Londongrad

Britain prides itself on being impregnable; a country which hasn’t been invaded for 1000 years and can’t be bought. The Lebedevs give the lie to all that. They spent a lot, but not a fortune, buying their way into British public life. And they did it in a way which perhaps nobody had tried before: they amused the people who mattered.

The oligarchs who made their way to London in the early 2000s and changed it presented themselves as embodiments of the new Russia; members of the global elite, and arms-length beneficiaries of Vladimir Putin’s new order, not slaves to it. Those were the terms on which Britain let them in, but it was mugged.

There comes a moment in any successful invasion of a country when you can no longer hide, your plans have to become obvious. It’s a moment of jeopardy but if you can get through it - as Alexander and Evgeny Lebedev did in Britain when they bought first the Evening Standard and later The Independent - then the scale of your ambitions can shift dramatically.

Years of warnings about Russia’s intentions had gone unheeded; discounted as scaremongering. But then came the invasion of Crimea, and the end of any doubts. In spite of it all, the Lebedevs' ascent in London continued, and so did the extraordinary parties.

The Intelligence and Security Committee of the British Parliament produced a report into Russian interference in British democracy. Boris Johnson saw it before his general election landslide in 2019. But his government went out of its way to make sure it didn’t see the light of day until long after the election had been fought and won.

It’s no secret that political patronage can get you a place in the House of Lords. But even people who understand the system well - even peers themselves - were appalled when Boris Johnson decided to extend his patronage to Evgeny Lebedev.

A former KGB officer, Britain’s foreign secretary – and a potential national security breach