LONDON 6.12.2003

Your Excellencies Mr Ambassador and Mr Alderman,
Ladies and Gentlemen,

When John Stuttard asked me to speak before this audience, my immediate question was: "About what?" John said that I should ventilate on "Finnish reflections on Britain" - and that's what I'm going to do.

The first Englishman ever to set foot on Finnish soil was a priest from London. The man in question was a bishop called Henry. Some 800 years ago he was sent to Finland by the Swedish court. His task: to convert the Finns to Christianity. He failed.

I regret to tell this audience that, in fact, we killed him. Poor Henry was axed to death by an angry peasant called Lalli. Historians have never succeeded in verifying the real reason. However, it is believed to have had something to do with sexual harassment. In those days bishops tended to be heterosexual. Later, to make up for our sins, we canonised the man. He is now known as Saint Henry of Finland.

At school I learned about the links between Britain and my small home town, Kuopio, in the centre of Finland's Lakeland. One of the local businessmen was called the British Consul. He had inherited this noble title since, before the first World War, Kuopio had been a flourishing "sea port" with connections to England through the Saima Canal.

A local trading company had at its peak twenty-eight ships sailing to London under their flag with timber, butter and rollers, returning to Finland with grain, sugar and cloth.

I first visited this country of warm beer, cold houses and private public schools in 1964. That was the year of the great Working Class Heroes that changed the world. "We are better known than Jesus", one of the Beatles later proclaimed modestly and was, of course, right.

During the Winter War of 1939 - 40 Finland received an overflow of sympathy when we stood alone against the mighty Soviet Union. I once met an elderly British gentleman in Hong Kong who told me that he had volunteered for the skiing troops in Finland. These troops were the sons of better families and properly trained in Scotland and Chamonix. "We were already steaming towards Finland", Sir John said, "when we learned over the ship's radio that Finland had signed a truce with the Soviet Union. We later found out that what Finland would have needed was cross-country skiers, not downhill skiers."

But two years later, when we accepted Herr Hitler's generous help in order to get back what had been stolen from us, the British attitude towards Finland grew chillier. Nevertheless, probably the most courteous declaration of war ever to be issued was PM Churchill's letter to our Marshal Mannerheim in 1941. Even after this Churchill continued to send Mannerheim Havana cigars on the quiet.

Despite occasional visits it was not until January 1985, twenty years later, that I started to get more familiar with the London lifestyle. I began my mission as a press councellor at the Finnish Embassy and Eira set out on her banking career in the City.

Thanks to the generosity of the Finnish taxpayer, for almost five years we could afford to live at Poulton Square, just off Chelsea's King's Road. Just a few weeks after we had moved in we were invited over to the neighbours for a welcoming drink. We explained who we were and why we had come to London. After the first drink the master of the house took me aside and offered his help should we think of defecting. I thanked him politely, assuring him that we would certainly give his offer serious consideration, but that unfortunately since my mother-in-law was being held hostage back in Finland it was unlikely that we would dare to defect. He fully understood my point.

One of the most difficult things for a Finn to understand has always been the English language. I am not referring to the language as such but to what lies behind the words. The Finnish language is very blunt. We say what we mean and mean what we say. In 1964 in Cambridge I was all the time asked "How do you do?" Every time I started to explain my current wellbeing in detail. To my amazement that was not at all what the locals wanted to hear. Why did they bother to ask?

As a diplomat in London I was once talking to a British colleague on the phone. Before we hung up he said: "Let's have lunch some day." I immediately took my diary and said: "When?" I later realised that this phrase comes in useful when one never wants to meet the person face to face.

Some essential words are entirely missing from the English vocabulary. For instance, when someone expresses something very precisely and wittily, an Englishman will turn to French and say: "Touché!"

The greatest joy of all, when something unfortunate happens to someone else, has no expression in this language of Shakespeare and Shelley. One has to fall back on the German word Schadenfreude.

The Great Finnish Book Club once had the great idea of inviting Jeffrey Archer to Helsinki to give a lecture on how to write a best-seller. Jeffrey Archer agreed, but on one condition: he wanted to meet our Prime Minister, since, as he modestly put it, he happened to be a very close political adviser to Ms. Thatcher. That I could arrange and he agreed to come.

His lecture was a fascinating story of his own success. We had a pleasant chat with PM Harri Holkeri and everything went well until my PM asked him: "Mr Lehtinen told me you write books. What kind of books?" By then Archer had already sold some 100 million copies. I was proud of my PM. His remark was touché, and I myself was definitely Schadenfreud.

For five years Eira was busy banking in the City. One day during her first few weeks there she called and asked me to go and see another banker. "Why", I asked. Somewhat irritated she told me that "in this bloody country" a lady spouse couldn't open a bank account without the permission of her husband. I was very amused - even Schadenfreud - and told Eira how civilised this country actually was.

When I met the bank manager he asked me if he had "quite understood", would we really like to have a COMMON account?" I nodded. He then asked where the bank should send the statements? "One copy to my wife and one to me, job addresses, please."

The seasoned banker was still more puzzled. "Should we write everything on your wife's bank statement as well?" I wanted to know why not. "Sometimes there are expenses gentlemen prefer not to show the lady of the house."

Britain has recently undergone a major change in at least two main areas in life, namely sex and food.

First sex: Twenty years ago, as one charecter in a television play put it: "If Freud hadn't mentioned it I don't think the British would have noticed." But today sex is overall. "How to sex with your Ex." The British are making up for lost time. Sex seems to be the only really classless thing in a class society. The royals, the Etonians and the working class are participating equally in tabloid sales. "Vicar's wife runs off with lorry driver."

Then food. Today's Britain is full of good ethnic restaurants but also fine dining places with famous British chefs. The French are copying fish and chips on their menus and selling roast beef under the name Boef Anglais.

What does the average Finn know about Britain? The royals, football and pop music for a start. But we sometimes have difficulties with certain details. A local Finn once walked around a British-registered car parked on our "estate" up in Lakeland. That was John's vintage Rolls, by the way. "Do the Brits drink a lot?" he asked me. I had to admit that according to EU statistics they do, in fact on average more than those notoriously heavy drinkers, the Finns. "And they have a lot of pubs, don't they?" "That is also true", I said. "And drunken driving is forbidden?" "Yes, of course." "But they're very cunning these Brits", he said and pointed to the steering wheel. "Already in the factory they put the steering wheel on the lady's side."

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Britain's gift to modern Finland is a certain Cambridge graduate called Neil Hardwick who writes for television and the theatre. We have treated him better than Bishop Henry. Finns, who desperately want to know what other people think of them, always wanted Mr Hardwick to say if there is anything he does NOT like about Finland. Finally he gave his answer: "Okay, if you insist, there are three things I would change about Finland: the people, the climate and the geographical location."

Is there anything I would like to change about England? No, not really. We all in Finland loved the film "Notting Hill". England became more popular than ever before. As Bob Hope once said: "There'll always be an England, even if it's in Hollywood."