6iu 3hilip *Ueen is tueat­ing the stuess with PXG Eaths ang hot stone Pas­sages things aue even Poue Eux­tal on the otheu sige oi the $tlantic IOU wiie 7ina ang Gaxgh­teu Chloe who can’t even go shop­ping in Cannes


If you have tears, pre­pare to shed them now. Philip Green has spo­ken at last of his or­deal. Col­lared at his health spa re­treat in Ari­zona, a BATHROBED SIR PHILIP Conirmed that for him Hal­loween came early this year. “It’s a hor­ror story,” he told the Mail on Sun­day, and who could ar­gue with that?

With Peter Hain cast as the vam­pir­i­cal king of the un­dead, and a hos­tile me­dia as his le­gion of ghouls, no star prize for guess­ing the iden­tity of the in­no­cent.

“I’ m very, very up­set ,” he said .“i’ m be­ing used as tar­get prac­tice.” Also dis­tressed, nat­u­rally, Is HIS WIFE. “TINA Is Hor­ri­ied. She’s ap­palled that peo­ple are treat­ing us like this.”

On the off chance that he sees this, Sir Philip is re­as­sured that he and her la­dy­ship are not alone. I be­lieve I speak for the si­lent ma­jor­ity – count­less BHS pen­sion­ers among us – who are as bored as out­raged by th­ese kind of fake news al­le­ga­tions.

In the com­ing days, I will be launch­ing a crowd­fund­ing web­site. Un­der the #mehtoo ban­ner, this will raise money for a pub­lic re­la­tions coun­terof­fen­sive ex­press­ing our shoul­der-shrug­ging in­dif­fer­ence about the lat­est slew of con­fected charges against a ti­tan of com­merce.

The dream is to co-opt a fel­low suf­ferer to the cause. When Pres­i­dent Trump learns a lit­tle about Sir Philip, HE should BE su­fi­ciently struck By THE un­canny sim­i­lar­i­ties to tweet in sup­port of #mehtoo, and make one of those lav­ish char­i­ta­ble pledges he likes to hon­our with­out de­lay. At the very least.

From birth un­til to­day, with some mi­nor di­ver­gences, the two have fol­lowed such closely aligned twin tracks that they might be broth­ers un­fath­omably separated in in­fancy in a Jef­frey Archer novel.

Both the sons of prop­erty de­vel­op­ers who be­queathed them the busi­ness when they were young, each has built splen­didly on in­her­ited wealth. Hence Trump be­ing picked to host The Ap­pren­tice, and Green re­port­edly BE­ING THE BBC’S irst CHOICE to front its ver­sion.

Their com­mer­cial tri­umphs have at­tract­ed­snip­ing from the cynic sands ne ere rs who dis­pute the yach­to­cratic hu­man right to avoid pay­ing taxes at the same rate as the rest of us, if at all.

Their un­der­stand­ably brusque re­sponse when in­so­lently ques­tioned about this and other mat­ters – the treat­ment of staff, and women in gen­eral, the use of in­del­i­cate ra­cial ter­mi­nol­ogy – has in­cu­bated poi­sonous me­dia cam­paigns against them.

Each has to en­dure the trauma of be­ing smeared by peo­ple – Lord Hain, Stormy Daniels – with too lit­tle sense of de­cency to hon­our the sanc­tity of the non-dis­clo­sure agree­ment.

And each is cal­lously taunted for point­ing out the inar­guable fact that it is they who are the vic­tims.

In four decades of busi­ness, as Sir Philip tells the pa­per, “there has ob­vi­ously from time to time been ban­ter and a bit of hu­mour, but as far as I’m con­cerned there was never any in­tent to be of­fen­sive … If any­thing I have said caused of­fence, I’m happy to apol­o­gise.”

One for­mer em­ployee claims that Green was so hy­per­sen­si­tive to the needs of fe­male staff that dur­ing meet­ings he would sel­l­essly Ask IF “they NEEDED THEIR bot­toms slapped ”, on the com­pelling ground that they were “naughty girls”.

It’s also al­leged that he rou­tinely ad­dressed Filipino mem­bers of the crew on his £100m yacht, the aptly named Lion­heart, as “lazy f ***** Flip­pers”. Thrilling as it al­ways is to meet a new racist ep­i­thet, any­one who did over­hear him us­ing the phrase must have mis­un­der­stood.

He was ob­vi­ously re­fer­ring to in­do­lent MPS who lipped THEIR irst Homes. Know­ing how re­pulsed he is by the idea of (rit­ual dis­claimer: per­fectly legally) avoid­ing cap­i­tal gains tax, you ap­pre­ci­ate the pu­rity of his rage.

It may be true that in 2003, when a pa­per was mak­ing im­per­ti­nent en­quiries About HIS Cor­po­rate inanc­ing, HE SAID of a re­porter named Mur­phy, ”He can’t read English. Mind you, he is a f ****** Ir­ish­man.” But as some­one wise has ob­served, Wildean thrusts of the kind are the in­evitable byprod­ucts of a long busi­ness ca­reer.

While Sir Philip is treat­ing the stress with mud baths and hot stone mas­sages, things are even more bru­tal on the other side of the At­lantic for wife Tina and daugh­ter Chloe. “They wanted to go shop­ping in Cannes this week­end,” ac­cord­ing to a source, “but they can’t face go­ing out.”

They have been trapped in the Monaco pent­house, with noth­ing but a co­terie of ser­vants and ne tl ix shows to sus­tain them, like the be­sieged of Stalingrad.

Touch wood it won’t be long be­fore Tina spends some of that tax-free£1.2bn div­i­dend on an Ama­zon pur­chase, and wears her new “I Re­ally Don’t Care, Do U?” jacket on a jaunt to the ma­rina.

In the mean­time, look out for #mehtoo and give what you can, al­though we have hopes that Pres­i­dent Trump will go be­yond the tweet and imag­i­nary do­na­tion.

In recog­ni­tion of a kin­dred spirit and em­pa­thy for a fel­low vic­tim, the pres­i­dent should of­fer Sir Philip per­ma­nent es­cape from a Bri­tain that is too small and en­vi­ous to value him, and ap­point him to the newly cre­ated cab­i­net post of Sec­re­tary for Ban­ter and a Bit of Hu­mour.

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