‘We have told the Greek ambassador that the reason we are holding you has nothing to do with Greece, which we respect as an old civilisation,’ my interrogator announced. ‘Even if it is now in the EU,’ he added, unable to resist a little dig.‘No, the reason you are here is because of the role you have played as a spy for England.’ Jasoos-e Inglis. English spy. By this time I had heard those words repeated over and over again. At the sound of the word ‘jasoos’ my body stiffened involuntarily inside my prison uniform into a defensive position: crossed hands and legs. I knew better now than to laugh. During my first day in Tehran’s notorious Evin Prison the words ‘English spy’ had seemed comic. I was arrested trying to leave the country, soon after filing a piece for the Spectator, a description of the troubled streets of Tehran.
