What we are running short of is the basic thing that the British Army has been built on since at least the time of Wellington, ie stocky, tough, psychopathic little hardcases. I’m talking about those people who are suffering from acute anxiety disorders of all kinds: phobias, panic attacks, obsessive compulsive behaviour, intrusive fearful thought and so on – all the fun of the fear.I have experienced such things myself, and if you are a sufferer you will know that getting out of the house in the morning can be the most frightening thing in the world – as frightening as, but no more frightening than.. oh I don’t know… It was a delicious, if mildly terrifying moment. The time is five years ago and the place is the veranda of the Norfolk Hotel, in Nairobi. The elections which will see the end of his rule are still a long way away Daniel Arap Moi is the undisputed ruler of Kenya. We have been waiting for several hours for the Big Man to emerge The President is the guest of the Freedom Forum. Now those of you who know anything about Mr Moi might agree that he is an unlikely choice of guest for an organisation committed to the promotion of human rights, free media and good governance.

Maybe they think the old monster can be persuaded on to a more righteous path by the earnest platitudes of the assembled delegates. I have been trying to get a interview with President Moi for some months, but he has never been available. Which is hardly surprising considering that I want to ask him about the two decades of corruption and gross human rights abuses over which he has presided

It was a delicious, if mildly terrifying moment. The efforts of myself and the BBC production team haven’t gone unnoticed by the Kenyan authorities. One night we are interviewing a newspaper editor who has made serious allegations about corruption involving Mr Moi and his family; as we sit in my hotel bedroom the editor’s mobile phone rings The man begins to shake His head sags between his shoulders. The only words he says are “Yes, yes”.The conversation only lasted a few seconds, and when it was over the editor headed for the door “Where are you going?” I asked “I cannot talk to you anymore,” he said.

After some discussion, he told me the man on the other end of the phone was Gideon Moi, son of the President and a man with his finger in a few interesting pies. Gideon had told the editor that he knew he was in the hotel talking to the BBC. He did not need to say any more than that.Anyway, back to the veranda of the Norfolk. I have positioned the camera crew behind a pillar, and when President Moi eventually appears, surrounded by his fawning retinue, we pounce. “Do you feel any sense of responsibility for the catastrophe that has befallen your country?” I ask.For a few seconds he appears stunned The flunkeys are livid but aware that the camera is running. Punching journalists at a Freedom Forum reception would, even by Kenya’s standards, be poor piece of public relations.