Corruption is not endemic in Brussels. Okay, now we've got that straight, we can forget about the Italian in charge of tobacco subsidies who walked out of a fifth floor window on Rue Belliard. Or the Greek who's in the slammer for organising kickbacks from companies taking part in Europe's tourism programme. And we're turning a blind eye to the real reason why the EU's intergovernmental conference is opening in Turin at the end of this month.
The facts are that Susanna Agnelli is the Italian foreign minister; the Agnelli family owns Fiat; and Fiat owns Turin. Now the idea that the Agnellis could be involved in a conflict of interest is absurd; ludicrous; impossible. When a Brussels diplomat asked whether the Agnellis might consider sharing the Turin conference spoils with the Barolos, the famous Italian wine-making family, Mrs Agnelli replied: "And who might the Barolos be?"
Nobody dares say "no" to Mrs Agnelli, 73, a precious relic of Italian aristocracy who grew up with Count Ciano, Mussolini's son-in-law, and has kept her nose clean ever since. The only way to deal with the grande dame is to ask her to chair a meeting. Hopeless is an understatement. Her first performance at a meeting of EU foreign ministers in January was a comic disaster. She interrupted the people she disliked, and said "yes" to everyone else.
Mrs Agnelli may not survive if and when the Italians get around to forming a government.
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meanwhile, ministers are appalled at the prospect of dealing with Mrs Agnelli for the next four months of the Italian presidency, especially when it comes to chairing sessions in the other bin boondoggle conference of the spring season: the EU-Asia summit in Bangkok on 1st and 2nd March.
The official Brussels line is that the Bangkok summit is supposed to open a new era of co-operation between two powerful trading blocs, a joint partnership for the 21st century. Unofficially, Europe is desperate to counter US influence and get a piece of the action in the fastest growing region in the world. The Europeans have spent the best part of five years engaged in debate about their own future; now they're discovering that the rest of the world is carrying on regardless.
There are plenty of dubious characters among the 25 heads of government who'll be turning up in Bangkok. President Suharto of Indonesia isn't exactly Amnesty International's Man of the Year. The Chinese are no better-probably worse. But if the Europeans bring up human rights abuses or child labour, the Asians will counter with Bosnia, Chechnya and Northern Ireland. So the bet is that Bangkok will be a slow schmooze over rice and tea. That's not a bad start since most of the participants can hardly pronounce each others' names, let alone recognise each others' faces.
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one familiar face which has resurfaced in Brussels belongs to Cardoso e Cunha, a Portuguese gentleman businessman who served as commissioner for energy and small business 1989-1993. He's been quietly pushing one of the most bizarre projects ever to cross the desk of the European commission.
For the past three months, Cardoso has been lobbying his old commission colleagues to stump up Ecus 15m (?12.5m) to convert a derelict barge in Lisbon harbour. His idea is to create a multi-storey showpiece for Europe's maritime industry-or what's left of it-and to launch the floating exhibition at the Lisbon Expo in 1998, easily outdoing the expense of the EU's pavilion at the Seville Expo in 1992.
Cardoso is a persuasive chap; he soon convinced the credulous Club Med commissioners in Brussels that the super-barge was just the project to bring Europe closer to its citizens. Martin Bangemann, the German industry commissioner, also came aboard; but then everybody knows that Bangemann's a boat freak who loves spending other people's money.
It looked like plain sailing, until the rest of the commission caught wind of the project-and the price tag. The latest word is that Cardoso has ditched the barge, but he's looking to launch another Euro-friendly project on land. Watch this space.
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the sinking of Senor Cardoso is a sign that the Santer commission is more sensible about spending money than its predecessors. For that we should thank the Scandinavian commissioners, led by Erkki Liikanen, the former Finnish finance minister who runs the EU budget, and Anita Gradin, the taciturn Swede who handles fraud.
Their joint efforts to introduce financial management into the European commission are starting to pay off. Suddenly commissioners are being asked to explain why they need money rather than how they intend to spend it. Some, like Leon Brittan, have spluttered indignantly; but Liikanen says he's trying to create a new budget culture. For once, Sir Leon is lost for words.
