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La storia senza fine del ’cavaliere’ |
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Bari, ascoltate 19 ragazze sette incontri nel mirino dei pm di GABRIELLA DE MATTEIS e GIULIANO FOSCHINI Diciannove ragazze già ascoltate. Una lista di trenta nomi almeno di donne che potrebbero essere state coinvolte nella vicenda. Le prime conferme, almeno per alcune di loro, di aver partecipato alle feste con il presidente del Consiglio, Silvio Berlusconi. E poi il racconto di altri incontri: cinque a Palazzo Grazioli e almeno due a Villa Certosa. La procura di Bari prova a chiudere il primo filone d’indagine sull’inchiesta che riguarda Gianpaolo Tarantini: il sostituto procuratore, Giuseppe Scelsi, vuole infatti circoscrivere il capitolo sullo sfruttamento della prostituzione. Al momento l’unico caso certo è quello che riguarda Patrizia D’Addario, ma gli investigatori stanno battendo altre strade. Le ragazze ammettono di aver partecipato ad altre feste, oltre a quelle che riguarderebbero il premier. A queste (a Bari, Cortina, Milano e Roma) avrebbero partecipato - hanno raccontato le ragazze agli investigatori - imprenditori, professionisti e politici. Esiste poi un capitolo sulle gite all’estero. Racconta Patriza e confermano Barbata Montereale e un altro paio di ragazze, che nella loro agenda ci sono tre, quattro viaggi fuori dall’Italia: c’è quello a Dubai, documentato con le foto insieme con alcuni sceicchi. E almeno due nei casino del Montenegro. Non solo: si parla di nove appartamenti in centro e sei ville nell’immediata periferia dove si svolgono due volte a settimana feste a "luci rosse". Ogni tanto però arrivano dei no. Come quello che Patrizia riserva quando le viene chiesto dall’entourage di Tarantini di partecipare al festeggiamento del Bari in serie A insieme con un gruppo di giocatori. Negli interrogatori le ragazze non fanno soltanto il nome dell’imprenditore barese. Raccontano che in più occasioni il ruolo di raccordo sarebbe stato fatto da Massimiliano Verdoscia, amico fraterno di Gianpaolo, l’unico a essere rimasto sempre accanto a lui negli ultimi mesi: non è un caso, infatti, che fosse l’unico invitato barese alla grande festa che a fine aprile Tarantini ha dato a Casina Valadier per il suo compleanno. Quella sera c’era gran parte del jet set romano, compreso Paolo Berlusconi. Dal racconto delle teste emerge però un secondo capitolo della vicenda. Quello più serio, dicono gli investigatori: la cocaina. Nelle feste a Bari, così come in quella in Sardegna, girava tanta droga. Veniva offerta a tutti, servita come se nulla fosse: una ragazza ha fatto il nome e cognome di un politico che tirava con una banconota da 500 euro. Insomma, un vespaio infinito che dopo aver coinvolto per la vicenda donne il presidente del Consiglio, rischia ora di far scatenare un terremoto negli ambiti che contano baresi e pugliesi. Nelle prime informative già si parla di un vero e proprio "sistema Tarantini": un giro di donne, droga, viaggi, favori e mazzette costruito con l’unico obiettivo di far guadagnare posizioni alle sue aziende. Un sistema che, raccontano le intercettazioni, ha coinvolto anche alti ufficiali della Guardia di Finanza che (venuti a sapere dell’amicizia di Tarantini con Berlusconi) si rivolgevano a lui per chiedere sponde per le loro carriere o favori per i loro familiari. Infine, ma non per ultimi, gli appalti: Tarantini ha il controllo assoluto della gestione delle protesi in Puglia, tanto che le sue aziende sono al centro anche di una seconda indagine della procura di Bari. Ma la sanità non è il suo unico business. Da qualche mese aveva puntato alla Protezione civile.
Silvio sapeva tutto di me ecco perché non può dire di avermi dimenticata" "Mi rimase la sensazione di un harem. Ma qua esisteva solo lo sceicco" di CONCHITA SANNINO e CARLO BONINI Patrizia D’Addario infila la mano nella borsa. Ne estrae il registratore più noto d’Italia. Ha un sorriso teso: "Se registrate voi, registro anch’io...". "Io lo faccio sempre. Grazie a questo registratore ho potuto vedere condannato l’uomo che abusava di me. Io non ricatto. Dico la verità. Ma nella vita, spesso, per farti credere servono delle prove". Patrizia accetta di parlare con Repubblica a una condizione. "Eviterò di affrontare i dettagli dell’inchiesta". Il presidente del Consiglio dice: "Quella donna? Ne ignoravo il nome e non ne avevo in mente il viso". "Se avessi voglia di scherzare, direi che non ricorda perché girano troppe ragazze che mi somigliano tra Palazzo Grazioli e, a leggere i giornali, Villa Certosa. Invece io la faccia di quell’uomo me la ricordo bene. L’ho avuta troppo vicina per dimenticarne i dettagli. Ma non ho voglia di scherzare. Mi stanno massacrando". Lei stessa ha detto di essere una escort. "Avrei potuto continuare a fare quella vita senza svelarmi e prendermi le buste del presidente con 10 mila euro. Io, invece, quando ho capito di essere stata ingannata, ho deciso di ribellarmi. Io sono l’unica che ha il coraggio di dire il mestiere che fa. Le altre tacciono, frequentano Papi, incassano le buste, fanno carriera e chiedono rispetto". Partiamo dall’inizio. Lei ha detto che a presentarla a Gianpaolo Tarantini è stato un amico comune, tale "Max". E’ Massimiliano Verdoscia? "Non lo so. Io lo conoscevo come Max". Può chiarire quanti soldi ha avuto in totale per i due incontri a Palazzo Grazioli? "Mille euro. Li ho avuti solo la prima volta per partecipare alla cena a Palazzo Grazioli. La seconda volta, quando sono rimasta tutta la notte, non ho avuto nulla. Se non la promessa che sarei stata aiutata a costruire finalmente quel residence per il quale ho le carte in regola e ho pagato già per ben quattro volte gli oneri di edificabilità". Andiamo alla prima volta a palazzo Grazioli. Metà ottobre 2008. "Io, a differenza di Silvio Berlusconi, ricordo ogni dettaglio. Quando arrivai saranno state le 22. Presi l’ascensore. Attraversai un lungo corridoio che si apriva in un salone dove trovai già molte ragazze. Altre arrivarono dopo. In totale saremo state una ventina". Ne conosceva qualcuna? "Alcune ricordavano dei volti televisivi. In realtà, mi colpì un altro particolare". Quale? "Mentre la gran parte di noi, come ci era stato detto, indossava abiti neri corti - il mio era di Versace - e trucco leggero, due ragazze che stavano sempre vicine, avevano pantaloni lunghi. Ho saputo, ascoltando quello che dicevano in pubblico, che erano due escort lesbiche che lavoravano sempre in coppia". C’erano ragazze minorenni? "Non mi misi a chiedere le età". C’erano ragazze straniere? "Mi sembrarono tutte italiane. E tutte mostravano, a differenza mia, una grande familiarità con la casa e il presidente. Lo chiamavano tutte Papi". Lei non lo chiamava Papi? "Io lo chiamavo Silvio. Mi disse di getto: "Come sei carina". Aveva una camicia nera. Quando si sedette notai i tacchi delle scarpe. Volle che mi sedessi accanto a lui nel salone con divani, dove proiettarono un lunghissimo video. Si vedevano i suoi incontri con i leader internazionali, i comizi, una folla che cantava "Meno male che Silvio c’è". Tutte le ragazze, a quel punto, fecero la "ola"". E lei? "Ero distratta da un barboncino bianco che leccava i miei piedi e quelli del presidente. Lui lo chiamava Frufrù e mi disse che glielo aveva regalato la moglie di Bush". Quanto durò il video celebrativo? "Fu lunghissimo. Il Presidente si alzava per chiedere champagne e focaccine. Poi, finalmente andammo in sala da pranzo. Un tavolo lunghissimo su cui volteggiavano tantissime farfalle. Di tulle, carta velina e altro materiale. Di vari colori. Farfalle ovunque, attaccate ai centro tavola e ai candelabri. Ho fatto indigestione di farfalle. La cena andò avanti fino all’alba. Ma non una cena da gourmet. Bresaola con sottaceti. Tagliatelle ai funghi. Cotolette con le patate. Torta di yogurt, che poi fu la cosa che mi piacque di più. Ne presi tre porzioni. Era morbida, come quelle della nonna". Una cena così non può finire all’alba. "Ci si interrompeva continuamente. Per canti, balli, barzellette. Berlusconi usò anche una storiella per parlare di me. Mi fissava e diceva. "Conosco una ragazza che non crede più agli uomini. La farò ricredere. La andrò a prendere con il mio jet privato". Poi, con il Presidente ballai. Un lento suonato dal pianista della casa. Era "My way". Ballammo molto vicini. Non si ricorda il mio volto?". Quando lei andò via, qualcuna delle ragazze rimase? "Non posso rispondere. Posso solo dire che era quasi mattina". Il presidente dice: "Mi è stato insegnato a non andare a dormire se c’è anche un solo documento di cui occuparsi sulla scrivania". Lei ricorda se il presidente si è assentato per esaminare qualche dossier? Per rispondere a qualche telefonata? "Il presidente ci parlava di molte cose del suo lavoro. Ma si è alzato soltanto per prendere i regalini. Ci teneva a distribuirli lui. Noi aprivamo e c’era l’obbligo di indossarli. Le solite farfalline, tartarughine, bracciali, collanine, anelli". Che sensazione le rimase di quella sera? "Un harem. Anzi. Gli harem sono una cosa seria che io conosco bene. Perché sono stata tre volte a Dubai. Gli sceicchi, a modo loro, rispettano le loro mogli. Se ne circondano, le precedono, ma le mostrano con orgoglio. Quello che vidi, invece, non mi piaceva. Esisteva solo lo sceicco: lui". Ha mai sentito parlare di Noemi Letizia? "Dopo la nota vicenda, sì. Ma non posso entrare nei dettagli. In generale, ripensando a quella storia, posso solo dire che non ho parole". Lei tornò a palazzo Grazioli la sera del 4 novembre. Tarantini disse "lui vuole te". "Evidentemente si ricordava di me". E’ la sera in cui resta l’intera notte. La notte dell’elezione di Obama, durante la quale, inutilmente si cerca di tirare fuori dalla stanza il presidente. Almeno fino alla colazione. "Su quella notte non posso dire". Ma è vero che lui la invitò a rimanere per la colazione? "Sì. Non in sala da pranzo. Fu una cosa più intima". La accusano di aver ordito un complotto a pagamento. La definiscono una "ricattatrice". "E’ ridicolo. In questa storia non ho mai preso un soldo da nessuno. Ho deciso di parlare il 31 maggio. Quando capii di essere stata ingannata. Che nessuno mi avrebbe aiutato nel mio progetto di vita: la costruzione del residence. Il premier era a Bari. Mi riconobbe e mi salutò. Poi, mi fece bloccare dalla scorta, nonostante fossi una delle sue candidate. Per altro, riconobbi chi mi fermò. Uno degli uomini della scorta che avevo visto a palazzo Grazioli fare altre cose". Cosa? "Guardarmi la sera del 4 novembre mentre il presidente, seduto su divano, mi accarezzava esplicitamente". Quindi decise quel giorno? "Fu l’ultima goccia. Parlai subito con un fotoreporter di Oggi. Ma c’era già stato dell’altro". Il furto nel suo appartamento? "Stranissimo furto. Avvenne in maggio. Pochi giorni dopo che avevo confidato a un amico che ero in possesso delle registrazioni dei miei incontri con il presidente". L’amico era Gianpaolo Tarantini? "No. E non ne posso fare il nome". Cosa rubarono? "Computer, cd musicali, tutta la biancheria intima, i miei vestiti di Versace, compreso quello che avevo indossato a Roma. Mi spaventai e cominciai a capire". Per questo motivo cercò un avvocato? "Cercai un avvocato per l’intervista che volevo fare con Oggi. Poi non se ne fece nulla e il mio avvocato rimase accanto a me quando, con mia grande sorpresa, l’8 giugno venni convocata come testimone dal pm". L’inchiesta ha accertato festini organizzati in cinque residenze con esponenti politici locali. "Non ho mai partecipato". Ha frequentato il vicepresidente della Regione, il Pd Sandro Frisullo? "Non so chi sia".de La Repubblica
THE NEW YORK TIMES / 23 Giugno 2009 Vice and spice di Maureen Dowd Sneaking a smoke now and again is not the worst presidential flaw imaginable. Our president is positively monkish compared with Silvio Berlusconi, whose Vesuvial vices spurred a trio of women academics in Italy to write an “Appeal to the First Ladies.” It urges Michelle Obama and other wives of world leaders to boycott next month’s G-8 summit in L’Aquila, Italy, to protest the Italian prime minister’s “sexist” and “offensive” manner toward women. One of the things the petitioners objected to, according to The Times of London, was Berlusconi’s attempt to put up actresses and showgirls as candidates in the European elections (not to mention as allegedly remunerated ornaments for wild parties at his posh villas). His wife, Veronica Lario, a former actress who met him while she was starring topless in “The Magnificent Cuckold” and who is now divorcing him, has operatically upbraided him twice: once two years ago after he had a public flirtation with a TV starlet whom he later appointed as Minister of Equal Opportunities; and again last month when Lario charged her randy hubby with “consorting with minors” after he went to the 18th birthday party of a model and gave her a diamond and gold necklace. Naturally, Berlusconi, who likes to be called “Papi” by his flock of chicks, upped the antics. The paparazzi splashed photos of topless babes — or “L’harem di Berlusconi,” as they’re known — and a buck naked ex-Czech prime minister romping at Berlusconi’s villa in Sardinia. And a comely 23-year-old starlet named Barbara Montereale told La Repubblica this week that she got paid by a hospital equipment vendor for going to the villa in January — an incident now under police investigation. “We played with a little puppy that Bush had given him as a present,” she said. She claimed she went with another girl, an “escort” named Patrizia D’Addario, who told her that she had had sex with the 72-year-old prime minister and asked for a favor about a building project but never got it. Now a disillusioned D’Addario has released a secret recording she made in which Berlusconi’s voice is heard saying: “Go and wait for me in the big bed.” The Wall Street Journal reported Tuesday night that Berlusconi, in an interview with the Italian society magazine Chi, which is owned by his holding company, denied that he had ever paid a woman to spend the night with him. “I’ve never understood what would be the satisfaction if there isn’t the pleasure of conquest,” he said, adding that he had “no memory” of D’Addario. Given Berlusconi’s louche ways, L’Aquila is a safe place for President Obama to indulge his lingering smoking habit. It’s interesting that someone with such daunting discipline can’t apply his willpower to cigarettes. The day after he signed a historic tobacco bill, the president conceded at a White House news conference that he “constantly” struggles with his vice and falls off the wagon sometimes. He got testy with the McClatchy reporter who asked him about his bill and his habit, pointing out that the legislation was meant to stop “the next generation of kids” from smoking. Then he got even snippier with Major Garrett of Fox News, who referred to the president’s strong opening statement on Iran, noting: “You said about Iran that you were ‘appalled’ and ‘outraged.’ What took you so long to employ those words?” The president protested that he had been consistent in trying not to let the White House and C.I.A. become foils that the Iranian government could blame. When CBS News’s Chip Reed later asked Mr. Obama if he was “influenced at all by John McCain and Lindsey Graham accusing you of being timid and weak,” the president grinned dismissively. But Mr. Obama regularly has to be cajoled by supporters and critics into using bolder rhetoric. It happened in his battle against Hillary during the campaign and with the A.I.G. bonuses and now Iran. Privately, he gets irritated at those who make him out to be a wimp just because he tends not to react dramatically or visibly to events. That doesn’t mean he’s not responding or that he’s not tough, he says; it just means he’s not doing it on the timetable or at the decibel levels that some would prefer. Like the Bushes, he will point out, as he did at the press conference, he is the president and his critics are not. He also got prickly with NBC News’s Chuck Todd when Todd said the president had “hinted” that there would be consequences for a repressive Iran. “Well, I’m not hinting,” Mr. Obama said. “I think that when a young woman gets shot on the street when she gets out of her car, that’s a problem.” When Todd asked why he wouldn’t spell out the consequences, the president shot back, “I know everybody here is on a 24-hour news cycle. I’m not. O.K.?” It was enough to make a guy sneak out to the Truman balcony for a smoke.
Silvio Berlusconi denies claim that he paid women for sex in his home From The Times June 24, 2009 Silvio Berlusconi denies claim that he paid women for sex in his home Avvenire, the Italian Catholic daily, has called on Mr Berlusconi to respond to public opinion urgently A defiant Silvio Berlusconi insisted yesterday that he had never paid a woman for sex, as pressure mounted on the Italian Prime Minister to explain his actions amid lurid allegations that he had entertained escorts and call-girls at his home. The comments — the first since an inquiry into alleged prostitution was launched — came as an influential Catholic magazine attacked his behaviour as indefensible and accused him of causing a “moral emergency” in his nation. In an interview with Chi magazine, which he owns, an unrepentant Mr Berlusconi said he had “nothing to apologise for” in his private life. “I have never paid a woman.” Referring to Patrizia D’Addario, the escort girl who spent a night at Palazzo Grazioli, his Rome residence, he insisted that he was the victim of a set-up. “Someone sent her with a very precise aim ... if I suspected a person of anything of the kind I would keep them a thousand miles away.” Berlusconi: the parties, the trinkets, the cash Ms D’Addario denied Mr Berlusconi’s account. She said: “If he has the slightest proof to support his allegation he should hand it to the authorities.” Mr Berlusconi admitted that he knew Giampaolo Tarantini, who is being investigated for allegedly abetting prostitution. “He was introduced to me as a serious and respected entrepreneur. Now that he is at the centre of an investigation I think that he should be presumed innocent, like any other citizen involved in a judicial case.” The Prime Minister added that his estrangement from his wife, Veronica Lario, who has asked for a divorce, was “a very painful wound”. He added: “I don’t know if time can heal it. What is certain is that ours has been a great love story. And true love stories can never be erased.” He said he was “sad but serene”, adding that the accusations against him had pained his children but had “brought us even closer together”. With new allegations emerging daily, commentators have expressed concern that the scandal is threatening to undermine the Prime Minister’s ability to govern. His supporters fear a drop in Catholic support and yesterday Italy’s most popular Catholic magazine said that Mr Berlusconi had “passed the limits of decency”. Father Antonio Sciortino, the magazine’s editor, said the Italian Church “cannot ignore this moral emergency. One cannot pretend that nothing is happening”. Father Sciortino said Christians were “bewildered by this climate of moral decadence” and that Mr Berlusconi had still not explained the contradictions in his accounts of how he knew Noemi Letizia, the aspiring model whose 18th birthday party he attended in a Naples suburb. Last weekend Pope Benedict XVI pointedly held up Alcide De Gasperi, Italy’s great postwar Christian Democratic Prime Minister, as an example of “morality in those who govern”. Meanwhile Avvenire, the Italian Catholic daily, has called on Mr Berlusconi to respond to public opinion urgently. The newspaper said the Prime Minister had to understand he needed to respond not just to his political adversaries but also to his own supporters. “In the end, everything has a price. And the danger here is that the debt will not be paid by a single person but by the entire country,” it said.
Berlusconi’s vanity makes him truly unattractive Professional escorts face many indignities, but surely few are as unpalatable as having to sit and watch an hour-long documentary in praise of Silvio Berlusconi. More degrading still, the nubile women who attended parties for the Italian prime minister had to sing along to a song entitled It’s Just as Well There’s Silvio. For this alone, they deserved a lavish reward, although some merely claimed to have received costume jewellery. You can see the T-shirt: "I went to Silvio’s villa and all I got was this lousy turtle brooch." A rich man’s decadent party ought to be like a scene from Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut: lots of beautiful naked people, exquisite antiques, plus the obligatory man in a goat mask. Chez Berlusconi, you just get the goat, albeit an antique one. I agree. Any man that egotistical has to be a staggering liability to his country. I have witnessed a lot of Berlusconi-style peacocking in my time, and it has always preceded disaster. When I was 23, a journalist friend invited me to dinner with two other random chums of his, the then Cabinet minister David Mellor and a sexy actress called Antonia de Sancha. I watched, entranced, as de Sancha twisted Mellor round her little finger, telling him how extraordinary and clever he must be to have such an important job. His chest puffed out like a rooster’s. The ensuing affair would effectively end his parliamentary career. Around the same time, a well-known backbencher took me out for lunch. To my astonishment, he presented me with an unsolicited copy of his maiden speech during dessert. About as seductive as whipping out your A-level certificates. Unsurprisingly, this particular MP’s career has been dogged by jibes about his monstrous ego. The late Alan Clark might have seduced women, but at least he didn’t demand applause. I find it far easier to understand Max Mosley’s admission that he paid young women to spank him than Berlusconi’s belief that lissom beauties flood to his villas, without inducements, to bask in a little of that Silvio magic. That level of delusion is terrifying. ŠOf course, things are different on the Continent: passions run deep, and can ignite in a second – literally, on occasion. I was staying at my uncle’s place in France last week, enjoying a nightcap with a couple of girlfriends, when we heard loud screams. Exiting the house, we saw a great plume of fire in the sky. Keen to show we Brits can still be relied upon by our garlic-munching chums, especially in a crisis, we raced up the meadow with a torch and a hose. Bang up against the next-door farmhouse we discovered a burning car, and air ripe with expletives. The next morning, a burly man in a white vest strode down to our front door. He thanked us for our help, and told us, with a charming smile, that we shouldn’t be alarmed: it was merely that "one who wishes me ill set fire to my car". Clearly, the appetite for operatic feuds, so powerfully evinced in Jean de Florette, lurks deep in the Provençal soul. ŠI am deeply distressed to learn that British Airways is considering charging for wine and peanuts. Economy flying demands the kind of gentle anaesthesia that can only be derived from a dodgy cabernet sauvignon and a salted snack. If we were French, we’d set fire to BA’s headquarters. Being British, we’ll purse our mouths and suffer. DAILY TELEGRAPH / 24 giugno 2009
THE INDIPENDENT / 23 giugno 2009 Tom Sutcliffe: Without a plot there can be no revolution It’s a mildly startling fact that the first moonwalk is now less distant from the Wall Street Crash than it is from the present day. I take it that this is one reason why I found watching Moonwalk One – Nasa’s official "time capsule" film about the Apollo 11 mission – a faintly lowering experience. We naturally flinch from consigning the events of our childhood to book history and yet that is where, inexorably, the first moon landing is headed. But there was another reason too – and that was the poignant naïvety of the hopes that event generated at the time. Theo Kamecke’s film includes a section that dwells on the unprecedented world television audience for the moment that Neil Armstrong stepped down onto the lunar surface, and the feeling – quite widespread then – that this unprecedented sense of global community might mark some kind of turning point in human history. Well, a lot has happened since then and not a lot. Manned space travel stagnated, and the new "one world" sensibility it was hoped would diminish war and usher in an era of ecological restraint never turned up. Forty years on America is still losing – and killing – men on foreign soil, and the vast task of working out a sustainable way of living on spaceship earth has barely even begun. And watching Moonwalk One I couldn’t help but wonder why it was one apparently impossible task had been triumphantly achieved while the others remain so intractable. One answer would be that getting to the moon wasn’t all that difficult, relatively speaking. You didn’t have to mobilise the world, after all, just get them to watch while a hugely motivated body of people achieved the task for them. Nasa and the astronauts were the sharp spearhead, American wealth and power was the hilt – and it wasn’t entirely unpredictable that the latter would drive the former to its target. But a more significant reason (and one that certainly kept the taxpayers who helped to fund the enterprise on side) was that the moonshot had a compellingly simple narrative. It took Kennedy just one sentence to lay it out: "I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the Earth." From that point on everyone knew what the ending of the story should be and how far along in this cliff-hanger we were. Wars, for all their logistical and historical complexity, often depend on similar narratives... a vast and sometimes chaotic task distilled to a simple plot-line. Reach Berlin, say, or achieve Unconditional Surrender. And when such a narrative is lacking there will always be a problem in sustaining concerted mass effort, one that depends on a population or a crowd rather than just a few individuals. You could see the lack of a narrative beginning to bite over the weekend in Tehran, the initial simplicity of the protests beginning to falter, not only because the state had stepped up the violence, but because defeated presidential candidate Mir-Hossein Mousavi had not crafted a sufficiently compelling and simple plotline to encourage people to confront it. Too many people, I suspect, are now uncertain about what the desired ending is in that case. And for ecologists the problem is even worse. They have a catastrophic ending to make us fearful, but it’s virtually impossible to say what a happy ending would be, or how we would know with any certainty that we had reached it. As a result, we can’t even agree what the plotline is yet. What the green movement desperately needs is a moonshot of its own, and a politician with enough sense of drama to commit to it. Does Silvio need to go to the trouble? What I can’t understand is why Silvio Berlusconi allegedly felt he allegedly needed to pay for it... allegedly. He’s not to my taste, and I can see that thick, orange make-up (as, allegedly, worn during his encounter with Patrizia D’Addario) might be off-putting to even the most easy- going party girl. But surely, even so, a multi-millionaire, television tycoon Prime Minister would only have to cock his little finger to fill his bed with ambitious speakerines, without those troublesome "travel expenses" – so easy for one’s enemies to misrepresent. And, whatever the pious statements made about moral tone and national dignity and family value, I suspect that it is the allegation of payment, rather than what was paid for, which is potentially damaging. Not because the Italian people are particularly aerated about prostitution, but because the sense of Signor Berlusconi’s virility and potency would be subtly undermined by the discovery that he had to get his wallet out before he could exercise it. Scheduling makes or breaks a TV show I have some sympathy for the journalist John Ware, whose two-part documentary on social breakdown, The Death of Respect, has finally been given a transmission slot at 11.20pm. Sir Paul Coleridge, a judge who contributed to the programme, publicly criticised this scheduling decision, saying that he’d been told the programmes had been deemed "too dark" for prime time. It must be disheartening to find that your chances of picking up passing trade have all but been wiped out, and scheduling decisions do send out an important message about a channel’s sense of priorities. But arguments about where programmes are placed have surely been changed forever by the arrival of recordings and BBC iPlayer. Given that no one who really wants to see Death of Respect will have much of an excuse for missing it, insisting it is broadcast earlier in the evening is tantamount to saying "we’re going to make people watch this whether they want to or not", an approach that didn’t always work when there were just two channels, and certainly wouldn’t now. Even Peter Bowker’s excellent three-part drama Occupation dropped 1.2 million viewers on its second episode, despite being one of the best things on television for some months. Keep an eye on the programme trails though, because if the BBC really do care about The Death of Respect, then they should promote it properly. I’m not sure that it matters quite as much anymore where the pearls are scattered, so long as they still exist and the BBC don’t force you to hunt through an entire pigsty to find them.
BILD / 23 giugno 2009 Hier machen sich die Mädchen hübsch für ihn Ein junges Mädchen lacht kokett in die Kamera, hält sich einen Föhn an die dunklen Haare. Ihre Freundin fotografiert sie dabei. Wir sehen die beiden Showgirls Lucia (25) und Barbara (23) im Badezimmer des „Palazzo Grazioli“ in Rom. Sie machen sich schick für ein Dinner mit Italiens Ministerpräsidenten! Gestern wurden weitere pikante Details in der Affäre BerLUSTconi bekannt: So berichtet die 23-jährige Barbara von Partys mit etwa 30 zumeist slawischen Mädchen in Berlusconis Luxusvilla: „Sie waren sehr vertraut mit dem Präsidenten, nannten ihn alle Papi.“ Einige Mädchen seien als Weihnachtsmann verkleidet gewesen. Politisch gerät Berlusconi wegen der Frauengeschichten immer mehr unter Druck: Italiens Ex-Präsident Francesco Cossiga legte ihm den Rücktritt nahe
DIE WELT / 23 giugno 2009 Kirche verlangt Klarheit von Berlusconi "Nerone", wie Premierminister Silvio Berlusconi neuerdings in wenig schmeichelhafter Erinnerung an den berüchtigten Kaiser Nero in Italiens kritischer Presse auch gern genannt wird, muss allmählich doch um seinen alten Ruf als "Cavaliere" bangen. Dass er homosexuell sei, habe ihm bisher noch keiner nachgesagt, wie er in der vergangenen Woche noch stolz verkündete. Doch auch Berlusconis Stolz macht inzwischen eher ohnmächtigem Zorn Platz. Denn während inzwischen auch ein drittes Callgirl über die schmutzigen Bettlaken des Premierministers in den Zeitungen zu plaudern begonnen hat, haben sich jetzt erstmals Stimmen aus dem Raum der Kirche kritisch über das Liebes- und Sexualleben Berlusconis geäußert. Der Vatikan selbst mischt sich natürlich in weiser Kenntnis diplomatischer Gepflogenheiten und der Sündhaftigkeit allen Fleisches in die Debatte nicht ein, und bislang auch nicht der halbamtliche "L’Osservatore Romano", die Papstzeitschrift in deutscher Sprache. Doch die von der italienischen Bischofskonferenz getragene Tageszeitung "Avvenire" forderte Berlusconi am Wochenende zu einer Klärung seiner Beziehungen zu verschiedenen jungen Frauen auf, die ihm unsittliche Beziehungen gegen Geld nachgesagt hatten. Die jüngsten Skandale hätten sogar bei seinen Anhängern für Unmut gesorgt, hieß es in der Zeitung weiter, denn in der italienischen Politik gehe es ja auch um moralische Werte. "Famiglia Cristiana", ein auflagenstarkes katholisches Wochenmagazin, rief die Kirche inzwischen sogar zu einer klaren Stellungnahme in der Causa Berlusconi auf, um einer immer verwirrteren Wählerschaft klare Richtlinien zu geben. Öffentliche Ehekrise: Berlusconi sieht sich als Opfer linker Verschwörer "Der Premierminister hat die hochheilige Pflicht und Schuldigkeit, ungerechtfertigte Anschuldigungen gegen ihn zurück zu weisen. Das Volk hat aber auch das Recht, Klarheit zu verlangen", sagte Monsignore Carlo Ghidelli, der Bischof von Lanciano, ein Wallfahrtsort in den Abruzzen. "Wer den Posten des Premiers besetzt, kann nicht mehr sagen, dass es sich hierbei um Privatangelegenheiten handle. Was ist denn in den USA geschehen? Warum sollte es hier also anders sein?" Monica Lewinsky lässt grüßen. Doch so einfach lässt sich Bill Clintons Fall nicht mit dem des italienischen Premiers vergleichen. Denn die "Mädchen", die sich jetzt mit vielen Details über ihre Beziehungen zu Italiens vitalem Regierungschef zu Wort melden, waren Profis, Mitarbeiterinnen von sogenannten Escort-Services, Prostituierte der teureren Art. Der Premierminister selbst bezeichnet die Anschuldigungen bislang als Lüge oder "Müll", hinter dem er ein politisches Komplott gegen ihn erkennen will. Mit dieser Vermutung könnte er womöglich Recht haben. Es wäre allerdings ein äußerst geschicktes Komplott mit umfangreichem Text- und Bildmaterial, immer schöneren Mädchennamen und Gesichtern, von Patrizia D’Addario bis zu Barbara Montereale, und immer neuen süffigen Zitaten. "Geh und erwarte mich in dem großen Bett!", heißt es nun jedoch nicht mehr länger ins Ohr Patrizias geflüstert, sondern in einer Titelzeile von "La Repubblica". Montereale hatte am Wochenende erklärt, sie sei für Besuche in der Residenz Berlusconis bezahlt worden und bestätigte entsprechende Aussagen D’Addarios. Doch auch solche Aufforderungen durch einen Mann, der - wie Minister Claudio Scajola zu dessen Verteidigung vorbringt - "seit Jahren praktisch Single" ist, können den Wählern natürlich nicht als Kapitalverbrechen verkauft werden. Den originellsten Vorschlag machte deshalb Ex-Staatspräsident Francesco Cossiga, der Berlusconi in einem öffentlichen Brief empfahl: "Entschuldige Dich bei niemandem. Aber hör auf mit Deinen Komplott-Theorien." Vor allem aber solle er Neuwahlen ausrufen - um dabei rasch wie gewohnt über all seine Widersacher zu triumphieren.
EL MUNDO / 23 giugno 2009 El "usuario final" LUCÍA MÉNDEZ Martes, 23 de junio de 2009.- Niccolò Ghedini, abogado de Berlusconi, ha dicho que su cliente no puede ser condenado por pagar a las chicas de alterne que acudían a sus fiestas porque el primer ministro italiano sólo era "el usuario final". Aunque no lo ha especificado, es de suponer que con ello quiere decir que antes del "usuario final" había otros "usuarios iniciales" que eran los empresarios que contrataban a las muchachas para las juergas del palacio Grazioli y Villa Certosa. Lo único claro es que las muchachas iban allí a ser usadas, cobraban su tarifa por ello y, a juzgar por las fotos, usuarios y prestadoras de servicios se lo pasaban pipa. Tiene razón el letrado de "papi". Berlusconi no es el responsable de los escándalos que están abochornando a muchos italianos. Tan culpables o más que el "usuario final" son esos otros "usuarios" que en lugar de llevar a sus mujeres a las reuniones, fiestas y recepciones del primer ministro llevan a sus hijas jóvenes o adolescentes para ver si hacen carrera. Como en ’La fiesta del chivo’ de Mario Vargas Llosa, pero con bolsos de Prada y pantalones de Versace. Algunos detalles tan inquietantes y amorales como éste permiten pensar que los valores de "papi" han calado hondo en el establishment político, social y económico de Italia, un país del G-8 que al mismo tiempo que estimula el derecho de pernada de su presidente desarrolla políticas oficiales de igualdad entre el hombre y la mujer. El "usuario final" ha impuesto su modelo de televisión en la sociedad italiana, protagonizando un ’talk show’ permanente y sin interrupción. Berlusconi ya no es una persona, es un actor que se interpreta a sí mismo las 24 horas delante de las cámaras. Y cuando no hay cámaras se representa ante un público lleno de "velinas". Con una Historia como la del Imperio romano a sus espaldas, seguramente el "usuario final" cree que le queda mucho para igualar lo que hicieron ciertos emperadores que están en la mente de todos y en la prensa italiana de estos días. Aunque creo que "papi" está estudiando ahora cómo y por qué cayó el Imperio Romano. Y pensar que le llamaban "Il Cavaliere"...
DAILY TELEGRAPH / 23 giugno 2009 Wives of G8 leaders urged to boycott summit over ’sexist’ Berlusconi Three Italian female academics are calling on Gordon Brown’s wife, Sarah, President Obama’s wife, Michele and other leaders’ spouses not to attend the gathering in L’Aquila, which will be hosted by the Italian prime minister. The academics have written an open "Appeal to the First Ladies" and said they were appalled, "as citizens of Italy and Europe", by the attitude displayed towards women by Mr Berlusconi, 72, who is engulfed in scandal over his private life. In the past two months he has been accused of "consorting with minors" by his wife, Veronica Lario, of having an inappropriate relationship with an 18-year-old underwear model and of sleeping with a high-class call-girl during a private party at his residence in Rome in November. A businessman acquaintance of the prime minister is being investigated by police and prosecutors in Bari, southern Italy, on suspicion of "abetting prostitution" by allegedly supplying escorts to parties thrown by Mr Berlusconi at his mansion in Rome and his villa in Sardinia. Mr Berlusconi denies the claims. The academics accused the prime minister of sexism over plans drawn up by his party, People of Freedom, to promote actresses, a former Big Brother contestant and a Miss Italy model as candidates for the European Parliament elections earlier this month. The proposal was later shelved after Mr Berlusconi’s wife called it "shamelessly trashy". The letter was drawn up by Anne Maass, associate professor of social psychology at Padua University, Chiara Volpato, lecturer in social psychology at Bicocca University, Milan and Angelica Mucchi Faina, lecturer in social psychology at Perugia University.
THE TIMES / 23 giugno 2009 Has Italy finally grown tired of Silvio Berlusconi’s sexism? From The Times June 23, 2009 Has Italy finally grown tired of Silvio Berlusconi’s sexism?Richard Owen: Analysis After years of Silvio Berlusconi making sexist jokes and confusing the worlds of politics, television and showbusiness by surrounding himself with showgirls, perhaps the worm has turned. Italy is a country where feminism and political correctness have made few inroads. Two years ago Veronica Lario, Mr Berlusconi’s estranged wife, demanded a public apology after he told Mara Carfagna, a former topless model, that he would “marry her like a shot” if he were not already married. He apologised — then last year made Ms Carfagna the country’s Equal Opportunities Minister. Mr Berlusconi has been elected three times, and Italians are perfectly aware of his attitudes. He once told American businessmen to invest in Italy because “we have the most beautiful secretaries, stupendous girls”. He jokes about his wife’s allegations that he “frequents minors”, signing autographs for young women with the jocular remark: “I hope you are over 18.” If a female revolt has begun he probably has his lawyer, Niccolo Ghedini, to thank. Mr Ghedini appalled many Italians — men and women — by remarking that even if the Prime Minister had spent the night with an “escort girl” at his Roman palazzo on US election night last November, as alleged, it was not a crime because he was “only the end user”. Respect? Not for those who have begun a belated and brave attempt to reverse Italy’s macho culture.
THE TIMES / 23 giugno 2009 Berlusconi’s Italy shows a strange type of feminism Anyone who has been following the continuing saga of Silvio Berlusconi, the Italian Prime Minister, with its tales of Sicilian yachts, Roman villas, call girls and construction contracts, might well conclude that Italy is the land that feminism forgot. Surely only the most unreconstructed of chauvinist societies would elect and tolerate such a man as its head of state, a man who appears to treat women as commodities to be bought and sold for the indulgence of his ego. Here is a man who holds the second highest office in Italy (let us not forget the Pope). He has won it three times now, and on each occasion there have been serious questions about his performance. Yet he appears to have interpreted the role of Prime Minister of the Republic of Italy as a cross between that of a nightclub entrepreneur and a cabaret act (many of the most amusing anecdotes about his parties include details of his singing and his proclivity for make-up). Il Cavaliere, as he is known, is an exaggerated, cartoon version of your standard Italian male stereotype: vain, pompous, full of hot air, patronising and sexually insecure. He certainly fancies himself as a big shot with the ladies, but all the evidence points to the contrary. In fact, many Italians see his philandering not as an expression of his insatiable virility but, as one friend to whom I spoke at the weekend put it, clear evidence of his sexual impotence. Poveretto,” she said. “He can’t get it up any more, so he has to ship in carloads of hookers to make him feel like a man again.” Although my friend may be furious about his behaviour, underneath her exasperation there is a weary acceptance. He is, after all, an Italian man. What else do you expect? Like many of his countrymen, Berlusconi genuinely believes himself to be special and therefore invincible. It is a pattern that repeats itself all over Italy. From a young age, it is clearly understood that men and boys are uniquely favoured. But although they grow up believing themselves to be supreme beings, the reality is not so straightforward. A male child is still cause for great celebration in Italy and as children, young boys are allowed to play while their sisters tidy the bedroom. They subsequently grow into charming layabouts, frittering away their time on street corners, in bars and restaurants, talking the big talk, showing off to each other and whistling when a pretty girl walks by. What they don’t concern themselves with is domestic drudgery; statistically, Italian men do less housework than almost any other males in Europe — except for Latvians. Like a Ferrari, the Italian male is bred for speed rather than for efficiency. And what about the role of Italian women? At its heart, Italy is one of the West’s few remaining matriarchal societies, a country where women, far from being the helpless, exploited victims of a sexually predatory male supremacy, are at the core of everyday decision-making. From family-run small businesses to international fashion empires, women in Italy are as powerful and successful as they are elsewhere, if not more so. They just go about it differently. The quiet power-play is what feminism in Italy is really all about. It is not feminism in the traditional sense of the word but it is, in its own way, a triumph of the feminine. Unlike Britain, which traditionally was a genuinely patriarchal society, Italy has always been far more comfortable with the idea of the strong female. Not necessarily in public, of course — but in private, boy, does she exist. In small family firms it will often be the mothers and daughters who take the big decisions while the sons drive the fast cars and swagger around in sharp suits. Behind every successful Italian businessman there is a wily mother, sister or wife, controlling the accounts and keeping one eye constantly open for trouble. Think of these women, if you will, as lionesses: fiercely protective, eminently capable, terrifying when provoked but, for some ancient reason, quite happy to let their feckless males lie around in the sun all day long, flicking their tails at the occasional passing antelope and generally looking magnificent. Ah yes, I hear you say, but what about the fact that so many Italian women appear to dress like off-duty Playboy bunnies? Where is the empowerment in a pair of crippling 6in heels? Again, cultural. I won’t deny it: Italian chic is essentially strumpet chic. Look at Gina Lollobrigida, or Sophia Loren, or Nancy Dell’Olio. All important, successful, powerful women, all of whom have occasionally been known to dress as though they charge by the hour. Odd? Not at all: that’s just what many Italian women are like (in that respect it is so much easier living in Britain: you can wear flat shoes to work). But I can assure you of one thing: they are not doing it for their men. They are doing it for themselves. Perhaps the greatest exponent of Italian-style feminism is Donatella Versace. Not only is she an acclaimed businesswoman at the helm of a global design empire, she also dresses in her own flamboyant manner. Stylistically, there is very little difference between her and the women whose accusations Berlusconi is so ardently denying. Yet there is nothing defenceless or downtrodden about Versace. That is just what she happens to like wearing — and why not? So. Back to Berlusconi. A silly old man, overindulged by an entire nation of similarly overindulged men and over-indulgent women. In a country where politics is often a sinister, deadly business (see Paolo Sorrentino’s 2008 film Il Divo, about the mafia connections of one of Berlusconi’s predecessors, Giulio Andreotti, in this respect), a few pathetic fumblings may seem easy to overlook. I suspect, however, that Italy will not let this one pass. For there is one thing that Italians cannot abide. Already all the Italian newspapers are talking about it, and it will become increasingly inescapable as the G8 summit in L’Aquila approaches next month: humiliation in the foreign media. At least a Mafia scandal has a certain cinematic whiff to it; being caught with your pants down in front of the world is just such brutta figura. And that, in Italy, is a truly unforgivable sin. So even with all Berlusconi’s power and wealth, the people who hold in their hands the reins of this story, and therefore the future direction of his political career, are women. The women — Patrizia D’Addario and Lucia Rossini, to name but two — whom he tried so crassly to exploit. Escorts-cum-models they may be, but they are not to be underestimated. Whatever the truth of the business transactions that may have passed between them, Berlusconi’s biggest error was to misjudge them.
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