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We’re the Masters of the Spin Universe. We dole out every Treasury fiver three times. We’ve boosted a minimalist agenda of change as a triumphant revolution. When we go to the country on 3rd May on a platform of
So why are our leaders fighting like ferrets in a sack? Particularly over Mandy a minor Minister whose day had gone and whose contribution was never as significant as he himself portrayed it. MINOR EARTHQUAKE IN DOWNING STREET. NO ONE DEAD. SEVERE BRUISING OF ONE EGO.
Who cares? Our rank and file supporters don’t. They’re appalled by the rows, the cabinet antagonisms, the obsession with personalities and the grovelling pursuit of wealth power and money. As if Labour’s project was not to improve the lot of the great majority for whom life is a struggle, but to widen the eye of the needle so that every millionaire is an eligible for heaven. Or to contribute to Labour Party Funds. Forget the quiz night, the fete, the Gala evening, lads and lasses. No cheques of less than a million.
It’s an appalling spectacle. The sooner they all shut up the better. This isn’t the dropping of the Pilate-or even pilot. It’s just another an attic clearout. Mandy didn’t win the 1997 election, John Major did for us. New Labour was a good advertising slogan but tied our hands to Tory spending totals, which prevented any real improvement for and wasted our first two years.
Now we’ve proved we can govern, Tony Blair is his own man. He doesn’t need courtiers or any self-appointed mouthpiece to tell the world what he’s not thinking.
New Labour is disposable. So is Mandy. It’s time to be ourselves, Not new or old but Real Labour doing the job we were elected for not courting every passing millionaire or gracing the London dinner circuit rather than our own constituencies.
Like Icarus, Mandy flew too close to the Sun. And the Express, the Times, the Guardian and the Independent. Particularly the Independent. It’s sad to see someone fall and a promising career end. There is not a wet eye in the House. The Independent had it about right in saying nothing in power quite became him like the leaving of it. True. All it needed was another nice touch like a retirement letter saying "I never thought I’d be writing this letter. Again."
But why undermine it all by whinging like a Plangent Pom, calling Tony’s judgement into question, rubbishing Alistair and saying "Can I have my career back please?"
No, There’s another glittering career in Europe which lives by distorting the truth; in Public Relations (ditto); in television (ditto). There is even a book or two though they’ll have to say something this time. Unlike the last collage of puff pastry. Do an exercise video. Teach the tango. Write a gardening book- cultivating cash crops. Anything.
Or why not work as an MP. Serving constituents, dealing with their problems promoting development, doing the hard nitty gritty of constituency work. Though it does take the rest of us out of London most weekends, and that might not be convenient.
The world’s your oyster Peter. We’re keeping you on as the honorary life president of the Old Testament Prophets. No greater honour than that. Look around, make your choice. Until you do. Shut up. I explain. |
