If it's a tall order, send for the short men



Shorties may be angry, snappy terriers - but if you want anything done, tiny dynamoes are who to trust.

While the regular fashion shows in Milan are not exactly the Italian version of Just For Laughs, there are always some diverting, and dare I say amusing, distractions.

Occasionally all you need to do is stare at the catwalk to make yourself laugh (especially when you’re watching the inaugural show by some previously feted fashion student – ‘Aha, I haven’t seen the three-legged Astroturf trouser-suit for, oh, simply ages...’), and then sometimes all you have to do is look at the audience, and in particular some of those who have lobbied to sit in the front row.

Some ‘fashion journalists’ (and I use the term with some caution, as writing about trousers is, well, writing about trousers) seem to take great pride in dressing up like children’s entertainers, as though this might make them appear more interesting.



Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t at all. It just makes them look like children’s entertainers in the front row of a fashion show. Which, even less surprisingly, is not exactly a good look.

However, when Valentino used to host his wonderfully extravagant shows here, there would always be an Italian Valentino look-alike outside the show, interviewing passers-by and industry bigwigs for one of those early-evening TV programmes that seem to be so popular all over Italy.



This was obviously a rather reductive view of the great designer – the fake Valentino always wore a vivid red suit (which was Valentino’s signature colour), excessively coiffured candyfloss hair, and a suspiciously successful tan – although it was always taken in surprisingly good grace by the couturier.

Like the designer, I thought the look-alike had also perhaps retired, so I was surprised when I saw him in January, at a rather glamorous industry dinner in Milan. Although this time he wasn’t dressed as Valentino, but rather the Italian Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi.



In his skinny black suit and skinny black tie he looked a little like a Reservoir Poodle, and he appeared to be wearing eyeliner, had spray-on hair (this time it really was indistinguishable from candyfloss), a ridiculous fake tan that made him look not dissimilar to an orang-utan and what looked like lifts in his loafers. The thing was, as I stared and stared – he was only four feet away, on the table right next to me – I realised it wasn’t a look-alike, it was actually Berlusconi himself.

Now, as soon as I understood this I also understood that there was no way he would have been wearing eyeliner, spray-on hair, a ridiculous fake orange tan or enormous great lifts in his shoes – or at least I imagine that’s what the Mail On Sunday’s lawyers would suppose – but when he stood up to leave, oh my goodness…

Italian Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi, is what you might call 'diminutive' (above with President Bush)

I wouldn’t say he was short, but he isn’t exactly the tallest politician I’ve ever seen. No, he wasn’t what you would call an Oompa Loompa, but he was no Willy Wonka, not by any stretch of a chocolate, treacle and raspberry truffle, oh no.

Berlusconi is what you might call ‘diminutive’, and – although this might come as a disappointment to the Italian padrone – I have never got on especially well with unusually short people. Never.

Over the years there have been honourable exceptions – and Gillian, this is where I have to mention you, my dear friend – but usually we just don’t get on. Maybe it’s because I’m too tall (I’m 6ft 1in and the air is pretty thin up here, let me tell you), maybe it’s because they’re so terribly angry at the world, or maybe it’s because they can never see over the steering wheel. Whatever.

And what’s unusually short? Five and under, I reckon.

'Martin Amis has a rather large head in proportion to his body, which can make him appear quite sinister'

Martin Amis is certainly angry, and there’s no getting away from the immutable fact that he is extremely vertically challenged. The first time I saw him in the flesh I couldn’t get over how short he is.



Like Prince – another somewhat diminutive over-achiever – he has a rather large head in proportion to the rest of his body, and while this can sometimes make him look taller than he is (because having a ridiculously big head is usually indicative of a Napoleonic ego), it can make him appear quite sinister.

Which, I have to say, is my main problem with shorties. They are like terriers, and even though they usually appear quite benign – quietly moving around near the ground, diligently picking up litter and taking care of business like modern-day hobbits – they will snap every now and then, going for your legs and not letting go until you agree to stoop a little more as you’re walking around the office.

But while I don’t get on with shorties, they tend to be so tenacious that they get things done. Annoying they may be, chippy, brittle and occasionally rude, but give them a bone and they will run with it. All the way home. And back again. All day if necessary. Trust me: short people can get things done. Which is why Gordon Brown could do worse than hiring some. And although I have absolutely no interest in helping the Prime Minister regain control of the country, every now and then I begin to feel sorry for him.

So Gordon, forget the intellectual pygmies in your Cabinet (and yes Ed Balls, I am talking about you), and go out and hire some genuinely short people. They might actually achieve something.

Oh, and never say I never do anything for you, either.



Dylan Jones is the editor of GQ