• Class wars: 'Gate-gate' scandal swamps UK PM David Cameron

    Dan Kitwood / Getty Images file

    British minister Andrew Mitchell, who reportedly insulted police officers after they stopped him from cycling out of the main gate down the street from the prime minister's official residence, arrives at a government meeting in May.

    By Chris Hampson, NBC News Director of International News

    LONDON - We’ve had Watergate, Irangate and even Weinergate.

    And now, in London, there’s a new hot-potato controversy that double-dips nicely the neat scandal-enhancing suffix “gate.”

    It’s called “Gate-gate.”


    The first gate in question sits at the end of Downing Street, home to generations of British prime ministers, and in recent years  -- in a nod to those who would destroy us -- a fortified enclave.  It is guarded around-the-clock by heavily armed police, cameras, barriers -- and that big, black, forbidding iron gate.

    Now this particular ballyhoo-gate involves a high ranking senior member of the British government, Andrew Mitchell, who wanted to ride his bike through the aforementioned main gate and, when he was refused and told to use the pedestrian exit,  apparently unleashed a tirade of four-letter abuse at the cops who are there to protect him.

    “Best you learn your f***ing place,” he reportedly said in anger.  “You don’t run this f***ing government.”

    But it gets worse.  Much worse.

    Facundo Arrizabalaga / EPA

    Andrew Mitchell speaks to the media in London on Monday.

    Mitchell allegedly also called the police officers “plebs.”  What?

    For those of us for whom Latin is a forgotten language, the plebs (Latin: plebes) of Ancient Rome were the middle-class of society – free people, skilled artisans, farmers.

    But in the intervening centuries the word in Great Britain became something of an insult, suggesting the person in question was common, ignorant and – importantly – of a lower order.

    It’s an old-fashioned word these days – not much used by the common people to whom it refers, and seldom heard outside of a certain privileged world.

    Now you only have to watch "Downton Abbey" -- the popular TV drama starring overdressed and underworked aristos and their forelock-tugging salt-of-the-earth servants -- to know about the class divide in the United Kingdom.  And if you think it’s as dead as Latin, read on.

    'Thrasher'
    Enter into this upstairs-downstairs world of ours the quaintly titled Government Chief Whip Mitchell.

    He’s an important guy in government.  Some of his critics call him self-important.  He has an office and official residence in Downing Street.   His job -- as the title suggests -- is to be the prime minister’s enforcer, making sure Conservative legislators toe the party line in parliament and outside.

    It’s a tough job and one for which Mitchell seems well suited.  He is an alumnus of the elite fee-paying Rugby School, a reputedly tough place that gave its name to the sport and where his disciplinarian ways reportedly earned him the nickname of “Thrasher.”

    In this extended interview, British Prime Minister David Cameron talks to NBC's Brian Williams about Iran, Afghanistan, the 2012 Olympics, the "special relationship" with the United States and whether or not he has danced around like Hugh Grant's character in "Love Actually."

    Clearly Mitchell seems not the sort to take any nonsense from the “lower orders” after a bad day at the office. Which is just what happened last week as he approached that now famous locked and guarded main gate.

    The essence of every “gate” scandal is that the event has far greater consequences than the perpetrator ever imagines as they commit the deed.  It is the stone rolling down the hill before it becomes the avalanche. Gate-gate is no exception.

    The furor that Mitchell provoked has reached national level -- and it’s still making front page news.

    The day after the outburst, Prime Minister Cameron traveled upcountry to the city of Manchester to pay his respects to the families of two unarmed, female police officers gunned down in cold blood. That evening he had to reprimand his chief whip for showing disrespect to the police.

    UK police resist calls to give all officers guns

    Then there’s a question of who is telling the truth. The police officers who suffered Mitchell’s tongue-lashing – members of the elite Diplomatic Protection Group – wrote down in their notebooks what had been said to them. They knew to expect more trouble.

    But Mitchell disputes their version of the truth.  Not that he may have used the f-word, as they claim.  But he denies calling them “plebs,” which would – it seems – be very rude indeed.

    (The Daily Telegraph on Tuesday published what it said was a log of the exchange as recorded by the officers involved)

    So either we can’t rely on the hand-picked cops chosen to guard our most important people – or we can’t trust the prime minister’s right-hand man. The police say, quite correctly, that it’s a question of integrity.

    Then there’s the politics of it, as the government struggles in second place in the opinion polls. 

    Has Britain's Prime Minister Cameron lost his gloss?

    Cameron has long tried to shake off the taunt of privilege that haunts him and his closest supporters  -- a barb that implies they are out of touch with ordinary folk.  That’s tricky for a politician who wants to win elections (ask Mitt Romney).

    So “Dave” Cameron has sought to convince the voters they are as ordinary as you and me.  But not, of course, plebs. He has Mitchell to thank for reinforcing an image he has tried so hard to shake off. 

    How tragedy transformed UK PM Cameron

    For his part, Mitchell has, eventually, been suitably contrite.  He has apologized to the offended officers more than once, without ever telling us exactly what he did say.

    “I didn’t show the police the amount of respect I should have done,” he said Monday, before adding  “I hope very much we can draw a line under this.”

    A view for sure shared by Cameron and his advisors.

    The prime minister is toughing it out and saying Mitchell will not lose his job.  But that’s what beleaguered prime ministers always say.

    In the end -- if the cops turn out to be telling the truth -- this particular “gate” may deliver its own last word.  As in:  “Make sure the gate doesn’t bang you in the … on the way out.”

    And the police -- whom Mitchell admits he abused -- will take satisfaction in being the ones holding it open for him.

    More world stories from NBC News:

    Follow World News from NBCNews.com on Twitter and Facebook

     

     

  • Brits rally around Games after Romney's Olympic gaffe

    GOP presidential hopeful Mitt Romney sparked a political firestorm during an interview with NBC's Brian Williams, in which he questioned whether London was ready for the Olympics. NBC's Peter Alexander reports.

    By Chris Hampson, NBC News Director of International News

    LONDON – The bells were ringing across a green and pleasant Britain on Friday morning to celebrate the start of the Summer Olympics.

    From Big Ben to the rusty clanger in our old village school, the noise of the bells could be heard for miles.

    The only other sound you could clearly hear above them was that of crunching metal – the sound of a politician slamming his campaign car into reverse.

    Republican presidential hopeful Mitt Romney came to the United Kingdom to launch an international charm offensive and ended up offending a nation.

    TODAY's Matt Lauer and Meredith Vieira discuss the much-anticipated London Olympics Opening Ceremony, including some of the top-secret details that have leaked.

     

    On the face of it, his gently expressed doubts to NBC's Brian Williams about Britain's readiness to stage a successful Games were not particularly shocking.

    Up until a few days ago, we'd been expressing doubts of our own.

    Troops everywhere, long lines and moans: A very British Olympic Games
    'Pain in the neck': London's Olympic lanes befuddle, frustrate motorists
    Fortress London: UK protects Olympics with biggest security plan since WWII

    But now that the Games are officially kicking off, it's party time – and the art of a politician is to judge the mood of the public. And on this Romney – as we say over here – dropped a clanger all of his own.


    "Mitt the Twit" screamed the headline in the popular tabloid The Sun. "Who invited party-pooper Romney?" asked the Daily Mail.

    Suddenly, Romney-bashing became a new gold-medal event.

    Read more Olympics coverage on NBC's TODAY in London blog

    At a concert in London's Hyde Park, Mayor Boris Johnson threw Romney's comments right back at him like an Olympic shotput: "There's a guy called Mitt Romney who wants to know if we are ready," he asked the 60,000-strong crowd.

    To a man, woman and child they shouted back, "Yes we are."

    Slideshow: Venues for 2012 London Olympic Games

    Oda / Getty Images

    From Wimbledon to Wembley Stadium to The Dome, a look at the venues for the 2012 London Olympic Games.

    Launch slideshow

     

    British Prime Minister David Cameron was also quick to jump to the country's defense, with a pointed comment sharper than a javelin: "We are holding an Olympic Games in one off the busiest, most active cities in the world. Of course it's easier if you hold an Olympic Games in the middle of nowhere."

    "Nowhere," of course, meant Salt Lake City. Romney organized the 2002 Winter Olympics there.

    Get the latest on London 2012 with NBC Olympics

    There were other gaffes: Seemingly forgetting the Labour Party leader Ed Milliband's name and calling him – in a desperate, odd-sounding ad-lib – "Mr. Leader." Spilling the beans about a private meeting he'd had with the ultra-secretive boss of MI6, the British foreign intelligence service. That's one stop short of telling the Russians we're still spying on them.

    Oh dear. It's all so different from the other presidential hopeful who visited Britain four years ago. On that occasion there was an air of excitement as Barack Obama charmed his way across London, not putting a foot wrong.

    On this one, it feels like someone has tied Romney's shoelaces together.

    Candidate Mitt Romney, who was slammed by the British media for comments he made about London's preparedness for the Olympics, now says that "after being here a couple days …  I'm absolutely convinced that the people here are ready for the Games."

    But like all good politicians he bounced back. On NBC's TODAY on Friday morning he was gracious and warm in his support of the London Olympics – sticking to the script this time.

    He can also take comfort in knowing that back home, there are many who will like him even more, just because the Brits like him less.

    Ah yes, we may have a special relationship – an "Anglo-Saxon" heritage, as a Romney adviser curiously termed it before the visit. But that doesn't mean we can't throw the pots and pans at each other from time to time.

    Slideshow: When the Olympics is your neighbor

    A diverse community in East London will welcome the world to Britain for the 2012 Olympic Games. Meet residents and hear how they feel about having a huge, world stage in their backyard.

    Launch slideshow

    More world stories from NBC News:

    News on NBCNews.com on Twitter and Facebook

     

  • A gloomy, gray - and great - day for the UK

    Celebrating her 60 years on the throne, Queen Elizabeth II and her family floated down the river on the Royal Barge. NBC's Stephanie Gosk reports.

    By Chris Hampson, NBC News

    It was, perhaps fittingly, a typical British summer's day.

    As I rode my bike toward Tower Bridge, the rain came tipping down from heavy gray skies and poured over me and the million other people who had crowded through London's streets to line the banks of the River Thames.

    But this was no ordinary summer's day. It's been more than 300 years since a huge pageant of ships sailed down the river — 60 years since Elizabeth became our queen.

    Queen leads giant Diamond Jubilee flotilla on London's rainy Thames

    A thousand ships, stretching seven miles long, led by dozens of rowing boats pushing their way through the choppy waters. A floating bell tower carrying the royal jubilee bells, their peals answered by church belfries all along the route. Little ships that had courageously evacuated Allied forces from under Nazi bombs at Dunkirk more than 70 years ago. History sailing in front of your eyes.

    Boats with orchestras, trumpeters, bagpipes, choirs and drums. Steamships sounding their horns. Artillery firing a royal salute from the Tower of London. And a bedraggled throng of spectators all along both river banks, cheering and singing — Union flags in one hand; umbrellas in the other.

    Then the royal barge, fittingly majestic, sailing by under the raised wings of Tower Bridge. I could barely make out the queen on board. But she was there, waving that stiff little royal wave of hers and doing what she always does so well: getting on with it.

    I confess I'm not much of a monarchist — the monarchy has always seemed to me to reinforce the sense of privilege and class that still divides this country. But as we both get older (she's 86; I'm not) my views get softer. And I have to hand it to the old lady: After 60 years doing the job, seven days a week, she's surely not a quitter.

    In pictures: Britain honors Queen Elizabeth II with Diamond Jubilee

    As I squeezed my way past the crowds and the renovated warehouses that once crammed the streets by the river, I passed thousands of families making their way to the water's edge. Kids in buggies who had no idea what was going on but who will no doubt gaze at the photos in years to come and be glad they were there. Grandparents who remember the queen's coronation in 1953, and have grown old with her.

    Melissa Harris-Perry and her panelists — Hill columnist Karen Finney; Robert Traynham, former communications director for Rick Santorum; former Virginia Gov. Doug Wilder; and Nation correspondent Ari Melber — look at the celebrations going on across the Atlantic.

    And thousands of visitors who saw the worst of the weather and the best of British history and tradition on the same day.

    Secret donors, foreign firms bankroll UK’s Diamond Jubilee celebration

    As I got close to the site of our broadcast, I came to a bottleneck of spectators. In the road, and slowing them down, a group of anti-royal protesters carrying placards and making speeches. Police were standing quietly by.


    "It's a good day for the queen," shouted one demonstrator, "and a bad day for democracy."

    Not quite, I thought. It's been a good day for both. Good that the queen should celebrate 60 years of service to her country. And good for democracy that we live in a country where people are free to disagree.

    My favorite moment? Our correspondent who — after outlining the amazing pageant of a thousand ships that sailed down the river with the queen in the pouring rain — was asked what else Her Majesty was going to do today. As if that wasn't enough.

    No, it was most surely not an ordinary summer's day.

    And you have to hope, don't you, that after 60 years on the throne, the queen is taking the rest of the day off?

    More world news from msnbc.com and NBC News:

    Follow us on Twitter: @msnbc_world

  • Britain's PM eats humble pie over snack tax

    Matt Cardy / Getty Images, file

    In days gone, pasties were the food of miners and farmers -- a robust parcel that (so legend has it) could be dropped steaming hot down a mine shaft or thrown over a high hedge to the agricultural laborers on the other side.

    By Chris Hampson, NBC News Director of International News

    LONDON -- We're a placid bunch, us Brits.

    You can call us names and poke us in the eye and we'll pretty much stand there and take it.

    So pity the poor misguided chaps who run this country and who decided to try their luck by introducing a tax on ... pasties.

    Man the barricades!


    For those who are not among the cognoscenti, a pasty is a traditional and tasty food that resembles a meat and potato pie. It has almost iconic status in its place of origin, the distant and beautiful county of Cornwall.

    In days gone by, it was the food of miners and farmers -- a robust parcel of pastry (so legend has it) that could be dropped steaming hot down a mine shaft to the menfolk below or thrown over a high hedge to the agricultural laborers on the other side.

    According to folklore, in one end there was savory meat, spuds and turnip and -- on the other side of a pastry wall -- fruit jam.  Entree and dessert all in one steaming package.  Genius.

    Wpa Pool / Getty Images, file

    David Cameron eats a pastry during an election campaign stop on May 1, 2010 in Woodstock, southern England.

    No wonder a simpler version was adopted all across the country.  It has become a staple of many a working lunch, snatched from the oven of a high street food store and wolfed down on the nearest bench or at a desk.

    Library opened by Mark Twain falls victim to austerity cuts

    So into this culinary sanctum stumbled the British government.  Always anxious to raise more cash in these dark days of austerity, the Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne decided back in March to slap a 20 percent tax on hot snacks like pasties, pies and sausage rolls.

    The plan was to raise an extra $150 million.

    But Osborne -- a millionaire whose diet does not apparently include pasties -- had no idea that he was about to walk into a political furore that we have seldom seen since the 1990 Poll Tax riots. 

    "Half-baked," screamed the tabloids.  "Save our pasties," the nation echoed as people licked their lips and bared their teeth.

    A newspaper hired an actress dressed as Marie Antoinette to pursue the hapless Chancellor -- a reminder of her infamous quote that led to revolution across the Channel: "Let them (the poor) eat cake."

    Justin Tallis / AFP – Getty Images

    Bakers and their supporters hold pastries as they gather outside the prime minister's official residence in London in April to protest and deliver a petition against the so-called pasty tax.

    The accident-prone Conservative-led government had walked into a minefield of meat and potato proportions. Politicians rushed to have their photos taken stuffing pasties down their throats.

    NBC News' UK partner ITV News on pasty debate

    Even Prime Minister David Cameron was wrong-footed when asked in Parliament when HE had last eaten a pasty.  He claimed to have done so at a shop that closed down some years ago. Ouch!

    So yesterday Cameron and Osborne decided on a change of diet: humble pie.

    The Sun's front page story on the British government's 'pastygate' climbdown on Tuesday.

    In a humiliating climb-down, the government was forced to abandon its snack tax.

    Well, almost.  In a wonderfully British muddle, pasties will avoid tax if they are hot but cooling down out of the oven.  If the shop keeps them hot -- that will be another 20 percent please.

    Telegraph video: David Cameron remembers his last pasty

    No matter.  Today's papers speak for the nation in declaring victory, with the mass market Sun saying it best: "Pasty la vista, taxman."

    Peace has broken out in Britain's leafy suburbs and town centers. One joyous Cornish Member of Parliament said there'd be "dancing in the streets."

    But the message to our politicians is clear.

    There is, after all, a line you cannot cross.  Our trains may not run when it rains or snows; you may not get through airport passport controls for hours; but mess with our favourite foods and we WILL bite back.

    More world news from msnbc.com and NBC News:

    Follow us on Twitter: @msnbc_world