I refer to Jo Said’s letter, Picking on people (TMID, 5 February). In my article about the Labour Party’s use of him, I thought it seemly not to add to his public embarrassment by describing the precise circumstances in which he came to my attention. However, since he chose to demean himself further by telling your readers that he first came across me “sitting in my car and picking my nose”, I am going to have to put things straight.

Two years ago, while I was at a party talking to a friend, a man with long grey hair whom I had never seen before in my life walked up to us, failed to introduce himself, interrupted our conversation, and then monopolised it with a series of incredible inanities. My friend, assuming from his familiarity that I knew him, turned to me and whispered: “Who is this fool?”

Desperate to get away, we headed for the bar. In the course of the next hour, I noticed that he was following me around the rather large space in which the party was being held. This annoyed me and I left. A friend later told me his name: Jo Said. He obtained my telephone number and called me a couple of days later, when I was in Italy. I thought it was preposterous, because we didn’t know each other from Adam, and there was no purpose to his telephone call (he used the ridiculous excuse of a house that somebody connected to my husband had put on the market at least five years before).

A few weeks after that, I received an obscene joke from him as a text message at around 2am. When I failed to reply, he sent another message apologising. I didn’t reply to that either, not wishing to engage in any form of exchange. Like all other fairly intelligent women who live and work in a world of men, I have developed antennae for those who are trouble. Also, unlike some other women, I don’t find the attention of strange men flattering. I find it irritating, invasive and insulting.

For months there was silence, then another vulgar joke by text message in the early hours, this time about the pleasure to be had in consuming Valium and then washing it down with all the alcohol in the house. I didn’t reply (well, who would?). Two days later, he sat at my table when I was waiting for an associate at lunchtime. I was distant as he tried to engage me in conversation, and when my associate walked in, Mr Said was asked politely to leave the table. I didn’t ask why as it was none of my business.

That’s it. The next time I saw him, he was the Labour Party’s secret weapon. Truly, they must be desperate. And whatever Mr Said’s problems are, they’re certainly not political. He shouldn’t be using the public stage as a form of catharsis.



Daphne Caruana Galizia

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