This is starting to go viral on the interwebs – serial liar Christopher Monckton threw a hissy fit and stormed out of an interview in New Zealand when it became clear the journalist had done her research:
There was one question I really wanted to ask Viscount Christopher Monckton, the visiting climate change sceptic, and it wasn’t about climate. It was about the idea he passed on to Margaret Thatcher, about the SAS giving those pesky Argies the squits by introducing a diarrhoea-inducing bacteria into the water supply in Port Stanley during the Falklands War.
There was a marvellous quote: “I can tell you from experience there is nothing more demoralising than having the trots in a trench!” I read this in the Guardian, and as the Guardian is unlikely to be his favourite newspaper, the whole thing may be entirely untrue. Who knows? Not me.
I did say: “But I wanted to ask about the trots in the trenches!” But he was no longer speaking to me. Not. A. Word. He had got the huff and walked out of the interview. It is very difficult to walk out on an interview when the only place you have to walk out of is the living room in the house where you are staying and into the kitchen where the person you are walking out on has to follow you to get to the front door. We stood about for a bit while he studiously ignored me and while I waited for him to laugh because it was so farcical.
But he didn’t. He wouldn’t even say goodbye, which was quite some feat because it might have been the first time he had ever stopped talking.
Also contained within – juicy information about the genesis of his fantasy HIV/Grave’s Disease/Malaria/MS/everything cure:
Although I am in full agreement with the specialist who said he was the most fascinating case he’d ever seen. The story, or part of the story, is about how nobody could figure out was wrong with him and so he did a mathematical diagnosis of his symptoms and exhaustive amounts of research and – after much going back to specialists – came up with a “preparation” which might help and which was then denied him by the NHS and so … he made it himself. What, in the kitchen? In the library, at home, as it happens.
“I got some eye of bat and toe of newt …” Then he couldn’t get the stuff to “go to solution” so he put it in the loch at the bottom of his garden and it did whatever it was supposed to do and then … “And then you took it?” I said, hopefully, seeking a cure as an answer.
“No, no, no. Of course not. I wrote up the lab notes and sent them to the surgeon and said: ‘Look, am I going to kill myself?’ So he rang up five minutes late roaring with laughter and I said: ‘What’s the point here?’ He said: ‘I’ve just been reading your lab notes.’ And I said: ‘These are serious lab notes!’ He said: ‘I know, but they’re terribly funny!”‘
That was back in at least 2006, meaning we’ve been waiting seven long years for Monckton’s potion to hit the market or even be tested scientifically. It’s almost like it’s not real.
This also clashes with Monckton’s previous claims that he had cured himself of Grave’s Disease.
What is it Chris? Did you take your fake cure or not?