Many fantastical ideas are cooked up conspiratorially at White’s, but most remain safely within the confines of that most exclusive of gentlemen’s clubs. Simon Mann had a habit of seeing through on his, whatever the consequences. Indeed, the ex-SAS soldier’s life read like the plot of a Frederick Forsyth novel — a tale of privileged upbringing leading to the extreme pursuit of adventure and excessive wealth.
The son of a former England cricket captain, the Old Etonian was an outstanding soldier in the British army before “boredom” took him into the murky world of special forces, security experts and mercenaries. A bon viveur whose chronic misjudgment landed him in one of Africa’s grimiest prisons with a 34-year sentence, Mann used his persuasive charm to pull himself out of the sizeable holes he dug for himself.
Clever, wry, unpredictable and restless, he came to public prominence on his arrest and imprisonment in Zimbabwe in 2004, when he was accused of playing a leading role in a conspiracy to overthrow the government of the oil-rich west African state of Equatorial Guinea in return for sharing a personal payment of £15 million.
It was nicknamed the “wonga coup” after Mann smuggled a note out of his Harare prison appealing to the plot’s alleged backers, including Margaret Thatcher’s son Mark (“Scratcher”), to pay a “splodge of wonga” (a large amount of money) to get him out of jail. The appeal fell on deaf ears and four years later Mann was extradited to Equatorial Guinea, where, in July 2008, he was sentenced after being found guilty of plotting to overthrow the country’s dictator, Teodoro Obiang Nguema.
Fears that Mann would rot away in the notorious hell-hole were to prove unfounded. After only 15 months he was pardoned by the dictator he had tried to overthrow and returned to his family in England, where he was introduced to his infant son, Arthur, who had been born while he was in prison in Zimbabwe. Officially, the Equatorial Guinea regime, which had a well-deserved reputation for brutality, had freed Mann on compassionate grounds because of his need for medical treatment. Most observers felt the early release had been Mann’s reward for his willingness to testify that a bevy of foreign businessmen and governments had supported the coup plot.
Simon Mann was born in 1952 to George Mann and Margaret Hildegarde (née Marshall Clark). His father won a Military Cross in the Second World War and made a fortune out of merging the family brewing business with Watney. George Mann’s father, Frank, had also captained the England cricket team — they were the first father-and-son pair to attain the honour.
Simon was educated at Eton (where he was known as “Maps Mann” because he was always looking at them) followed by officer training at Sandhurst, leading to that most pukka of regiments associated with the royal household, the Scots Guards. When the regular army failed to challenge him, Mann underwent the gruelling tests to join the SAS, succeeding at the first attempt and becoming a troop commander specialising in intelligence and counterterrorism. He saw service in Cyprus, Germany, Norway, Canada, Central America and Northern Ireland. While not on duty, Mann was a regular fixture at White’s, counting earls and dukes among his closest friends.
In 1981, aged 28, he left the armed services in search of wider horizons and better pay. His post-army freelance career began quietly enough, selling computer software. He quickly moved into the more lucrative security business, booming in London at the time, reportedly training and providing bodyguards to wealthy Arabs on their British estates. He was briefly persuaded to return to uniform in 1990 to serve on the staff of Peter de la Billière, Britain’s commander in the first Gulf War, in Riyadh.
After the Gulf War, Mann was offered a role back in the SAS but instead took his first decisive step into the world of mercenaries. He struck up a friendship with the businessman Tony Buckingham and together they established the British wing of Executive Outcomes, a private security company originally founded in South Africa to provide military and logistical support to officially recognised governments. Buckingham had a background in the oil industry and when oil installations in Angola came under threat from Unita rebels, President José Eduardo dos Santos turned to Executive Outcomes for help. The company earned millions supplying guards and soldiers for western oil companies during the savage Angolan civil war.
In 1995 Mann set up Sandline International, an offshoot of Executive Outcomes, with another former Scots Guard, Lieutenant Colonel Tim Spicer, and it became involved in an equally brutal civil war in Sierra Leone. Sandline was alleged to have provided training and arms to the Sierra Leone government in contravention of a United Nations arms embargo, helping it to regain control of the country’s diamond fields.
After order had been restored in Sierra Leone, Mann was extremely wealthy. He bought a 20-acre estate that once belonged to the Rothschilds called Inchmery, near Beaulieu in Hampshire. He also owned a private jet. He then rented out Inchmery and moved into a mansion in the Cape Town suburb of Constantia, where fellow residents included Earl Spencer and Mark Thatcher. Mann seemed to have finally hung up his military boots in exchange for a life of fishing, art collecting and dinner parties.
In 2002, he re-emerged unexpectedly into the limelight by agreeing to play the part of Colonel Derek Wilford, the commander of the British paratroopers involved in the Bloody Sunday killings in Northern Ireland, in a television reconstruction of the event. The director, Paul Greengrass, paid tribute to Mann as “an English romantic adventurer” and “tremendous company”.
The next time Mann took centre stage was in a real-life drama. On March 7, 2004, he was arrested at Harare airport along with the crew and passengers of a Boeing 727 owned by a Mann company, Logo Logistics. Mann had been in the Zimbabwean capital for several days to pick up guns, ammunition and men, and was waiting for the plane to arrive at the time of the arrests. Soon afterwards, Nick du Toit, a former South African mercenary and associate of Mann’s, along with 14 others, were arrested in Malabo, capital of Equatorial Guinea, whose government boasted of having foiled a coup to topple President Obiang.
The alleged plot centred on removing Obiang and replacing him with a veteran exiled opposition leader, Severo Moto. On top of a cash payment of $15 million, Mann and his backers would have been granted concessions to exploit the country’s vast offshore oil reserves. Mann was supposed to have recruited nearly 70 mercenaries, mostly from Angola and Namibia — the passengers of the Boeing 727 — and to have purchased £100,000 worth of weaponry in Zimbabwe in readiness to fly to Equatorial Guinea.
Mann admitted buying the weapons from the state-owned Zimbabwe Defence Industries but initially claimed the plane was not on its way to Equatorial Guinea but to the Democratic Republic of Congo to provide security for the diamond industry there. However, a written confession to involvement in the plot purportedly from Mann soon appeared in the South African press. Mann’s supporters said it had been extracted under torture. “We were tortured. Beatings. Sensory deprivation … all the sort of stuff we used to do to each other at Hereford,” Mann, who had a wry, laconic wit, told The Times in 2023.
In September 2004 he was convicted by a Zimbabwe court on arms charges and sentenced to seven years, although the term was later reduced. Most of his co-accused were released within a year. Mann was released early for good behaviour from his Harare prison in May 2007 but was immediately rearrested when a court there ruled that he should be extradited. Mann appealed against the extradition on the grounds that he would face torture in a country with an appalling human rights record. In January, 2008, the Zimbabwe High Court rejected the appeal and a few days later Mann was secretly deported to Equatorial Guinea without the prior knowledge of his lawyers.
Despite fears for his health and safety, Mann appeared unruffled by incarceration in the notorious Black Beach prison in Malabo. Interviewed in shackles by Channel 4 News while awaiting trial, Mann said he had been treated well and was co-operating with the authorities. By now he was ready to acknowledge that he had indeed been part of a plot to overthrow the government of the tiny, oil-rich west African state, but claimed his primary motivation had been to help the people of Equatorial Guinea.
He described himself as the “manager” of the plot, which he alleged had been instigated by Ely Calil, a British businessman of Lebanese-Nigerian origin. Calil, who died in 2018, repeatedly denied involvement. Mann also alleged that Thatcher had been not an “unwitting financier” but “part of the team management”. He said he had terrible regrets about the whole disastrous adventure, adding: “When you go tiger shooting, you don’t expect the tiger to win.”
At his trial in June 2008, Mann finally admitted involvement in the coup plot but attempted to present himself as a pawn of powerful international businessmen led by Calil. Mann also alleged that the Spanish and South African governments had sanctioned the coup attempt and that the Pentagon, CIA and US oil companies had given tacit consent.
His 34-year prison sentence was longer than even the prosecution had sought. However, the severity turned out to be a charade. Mann was spared the horrors that befell most of the inmates of Black Beach. He had his own cell, exercise machine and books, and was allowed calls home. He even had regular lunches with Equatorial Guinea’s security minister, who brought him food and wine from a luxury hotel. After Mann had served just 15 months of his sentence, in November 2009 Obiang announced that he was being freed on “humanitarian grounds” to receive “regular medical treatment near his family”. Mann had indeed had two hernia operations since being sentenced but otherwise appeared to be in surprisingly good health. The suspicion was a deal had been done even before Mann had been brought to trial.
Before leaving Equatorial Guinea, a tearful Mann expressed his regret for his part in the foiled coup. He also reiterated claims that Calil and Thatcher had been the key players and said he was anxious both should “face justice”. On his return to Britain, Mann was whisked away to his New Forest estate to be reunited with his family. After a bidding war among publishers, Mann’s autobiography Cry Havoc appeared in 2011.
His third wife Amanda (née Freedman) whom he called “the Duchess” and who was the mother of four of his seven children, thereafter kept “my passport under lock and key”. Last year the Daily Mail’s Eden Confidential column reported that he had left her and was being “comforted” by a woman 20 years his junior. He is survived by seven children from three marriages: Peter, Jack (a close friend of Prince Harry), Sophie, Freddy, Lilly, Bess and Arthur.
In the years after the Equatorial Guinea episode, Mann struggled to find work. “It was tough because, in my sector, my former peers couldn’t hire me, even in the back office,” he told The Times in 2023. “It was, ‘Look, Simon, don’t take it personally, but we spend a lot of time and money telling everyone that we’re not mercenaries’.”
In the same year The Times reported that Mann was launching a career in the City as the chairman of a start-up called Hydrogen Utopia International that would turn plastic waste into hydrogen. Mann’s knowledge of the technology was minimal and he candidly admitted that his role was to raise capital from among his wealthy connections, of which there continued to be no shortage joining his table at White’s.
Another “friend” was Obiang, the man whom Mann had once tried to depose in a coup, who reportedly started “vouching” for Mann when he attempted to do business with other African leaders. Oiled by Mann’s charm and a promise or two, the two men had “laughed it off”.
Simon Mann, soldier, businessman and mercenary, was born on June 26, 1952. He died of a heart attack on May 8, 2025, aged 72
