A Lament for Parliament

Parliament was one of the great political institutions of England, a sign, forgive me for saying so, of our native genius. Over the ages it evolved into a partnership, occasionally broken, between the monarchy and the people. It was a practical way of ensuring that taxes or ‘supply’, as it was referred to in the past, was kept at manageable levels, and only granted after certain grievances had been addressed. Increasingly as the time passed Parliament did not just grant fresh monies but adopted more of an accountancy function, ensuring that the taxes granted were properly managed and spent.

By the eighteenth century this fiscal responsibility had turned England into one of the most powerful nations on earth, fully demonstrated during the Seven Years War. Contrast with the France, sinking lower and lower, crushed under financial profligacy and a long tradition of royal mismanagement.

Though there were times when Parliament seemed to represent an entrenched oligarchy, resisting change, change came notwithstanding, by slow degrees, but without the fracture of revolution.

But now look at Parliament, look how things have changed. The decline in the institution has been rapid, not gradual, accelerating ever faster since the election of New Labour in 1997. Power is bleeding rapidly away to Brussels, now the source of much of our legislation. Blair’s botched constitutional settlement has further disempowered Parliament in Scotland and Wales without increasing its prestige or power in England. MPs used to be the best accountants in the world; now they can’t even manage their own expenses. The mediocrity of so many who sit at Westminster simply defies belief.

Before the Reform Act of 1832 Parliament represented a tiny proportion of the population; but at least it represented them and defended their interests. Now Parliament seems to represent nothing but itself. It’s turning, as Walter Bagehot might have said, into the ‘dignified’ part of the constitution, except I can see little in the way of dignity.

The Worst Prime Minister Since...No, Just the Worst

I wrote in a previous blog that I thought Gordon ‘the Joker’ Brown was the worst prime minister since Frederick, Lord North. I think I owe an apology to Lord North; the Joker actually makes him look good in contrast.

I fully admit my bias: I despise New Labour; I despised Tony Blair as much as I despise Gordon Brown. But I also try to be fair. Looking over the historical records, looking at the conduct of the people who have occupied this office all the way back to Robert Walpole I simple can find no prime minister as disastrously bad as the Joker. Walpole was corrupt, yes, but he was a great political manager. There are one or two mediocrities like Aberdeen and MacDonald but all showed some leadership qualities, some understanding of what leadership was about.

And now consider the Joker, consider his latest ‘triumph’. It is now openly admitted that he and Miliband, the Foreign Secretary, did not want Addelbaset Ali Mohamed al Megrahi to die in prison; at least that’s what they told the Libyans. The families of the victims of the Lockerbie were being told something quite different. The double-dealing is bad; the hypocrisy is worse; the cynicism is worst of all.

Bit by bit this government sinks into fresh depths of turpitude and incompetence. I can’t honestly be sure how much further this will go, but I now believe anything to be possible. Brown’s appeasement of Gaddafi does not just make him look bad; it makes the whole country look bad. He’s been asked by David Cameron to ‘come clean’ on the whole issue, but he can’t, he simply can’t. He can’t criticise the SNP administration because they did precisely-and objectively-what he wanted, assuming he was sincere in his comments to the Libyans. He can’t say that this was something he did not want because it makes him look like a liar as well as a fool. He is now responsible, moreover, for the most serious decline in Anglo-American relations in decades.

It will pass, I know, these things do, but how much more damage can the Joker do before next June? I can just picture him in Downing Street, after the cold bath and the salty porridge, hiding under the sheets when confronted with some tricky problem; hoping that if he says nothing it will simply go away. As I have said several times now, leadership is not just about decisions and high office; it’s about moral courage. The Joker has none.

New Labour and the Politics of Insanity

I suppose we all feel that we are being driven mad by politics and politicians but look at the Labour government, look closely: it’s having a collective nervous breakdown! Are you surprised, is anyone surprised? I’m certainly not, though I’ve just read a good article in last week’s Spectator, which has helped me focus my thoughts. It’s by Martin Bright, the magazines’ blogger, and the piece is headed Insanity has always been integral to New Labour.

There are signs of personal insanity, yes, insanity, or forms of mental instability that some cabinet members, former cabinet ministers and key advisors have admitted to: John Prescott suffers from bulimia; David Blunket from depression, as does Alister Campbell, the former press supremo and one of the architects of the New Labour house of horrors. Lord alone knows what Joker Brown suffers from, apart from his well-publicised ‘psychological flaws’ and grim terminal Presbyterianism!

Now, there’s an interesting point on which to proceed, the Joker’s moral and religious convictions, the lie behind the whole thing, the lie behind him. The altogether loathsome Damian McBride served as a special advisor on Brown’s staff until he was caught trying to disseminate lies about opposition politicians, lies that did not stop short of embracing one MP’s wife. The emails in question were issued from Downing Street. What was the favoured poison? Perhaps you have already guessed? It was to be leaked that she suffered from a breakdown!

No surprise, really, that aspersions about mental health are this government’s favoured form of character assassination. I note that the ‘line’ on Hazel Blears is that she ‘could not handle it’, that she was ‘cracking’ under the pressure. It’s classic Freud, a process known by psychiatrists as ‘projection’-attributing to others one’s own feelings of disgust, inadequacy and self-loathing.

So, remember, the next time you hear one of the hydra heads of this government-possibly Lord Rumba- talking about the mental state of others, of opponents and ‘outsiders’, pay particular attention to the expressions used, to the width of the spin and the depth of the shaft. It will give you a better insight into the mental health of Joker Brown, “The Best Man for the Job”, and New Labour than I ever could. :-))

Moving into Reverse: Lord Rumba of Rio and the new Feudalism

In constitutional terms Britain appears to be going into reverse just at the moment, as power is seemingly drifting away from the Commons to the Lords.

There was a time when peers could serve in the office of Prime Minister, a practice that was fairly common throughout the nineteenth century. The last to do so was Lord Salisbury, who resigned in 1902. Although a ‘convention’-one of the great standbys of the British constitution-has grown up that Prime Ministers should sit in the Commons, there is no compelling legal reason why they must. As late as 1940 Lord Halifax was considered as a possible successor to Neville Chamberlain.

The location of the Prime Minster is really a reflection of the shifting balance of power within our constitution, one which, in the course of the last century, saw the ascent of the Commons and the descent of the Lords. But now, what is happening at this precise moment in time? Why, Gordon Brown, ‘The Best Man for the Job’, has, in order to save himself politically, grown ever more reliant on his good friend, darling Peter Mandelson, Lord Rumba of Rio, the new form of Mephistopheles.

So much power seems to be slipping towards the unelected Lord Rumba that it is conceivably no longer beyond comprehension that a Prime Minister could, once again, sit in the Upper Chamber. Not possible, you say? Yes, perhaps you are right. But did you know that no fewer than ten ministers now report to Lord Rumba in his capacity of ‘super secretary? That’s twice as many as report to the Chancellor of the Exchequer!

One of the blessings-and curses-of being a history student is that one always manages to uncover past parallels with present situations, along the lines of everything occurs twice, the first time as tragedy and the second time as farce. My mind flows back to the fifteenth century, to the time of the Wars of the Roses. There he is, Lord Rumba himself, although in the somewhat grander form of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, the Kingmaker! It’s 1469; the Yorkist Party has fallen out; Edward IV, ‘The Best Man for the Job’, has been defeated at Edgecote Moor and is now, more than ever, in the pocket of the Kingmaker.

I could go on like this, but it would only get tiresome. Still, I shall look for traces of a new feudalism in our present situation. Wait: perhaps it’s already with us.

One prop to Joker Brown’s crumbling power is Lord Rumba; the other is the super-union, Unite. Lord Rumba, by his parliamentary manoeuvres, has allowed the Joker to continue on course. Still, there was always a danger that things could get troublesome come the conference season, when the Labour Party at large has a chance to make its views heard, though in recent years these events have been so staged-managed that they resemble nothing more that meetings of the Soviet Communist Party in the time of Stalin.

Even so, there is no point in taking chances. So the National Executive Council has been packed with Unite placemen, answerable to an old confidant of the Joker. Can you guess who it is? No? Why it’s non other than the thuggish Charlie Whelan, his one-time spin doctor. Opponents of the Joker can thus expect ‘an offer they can’t refuse’ from Don Whelan.

Power has gone to the Lords; power has gone to the new Robber Baron. What hope for Parliament? What hope for the country?

Perhaps we truly are back in the Middle Ages. It begins to feel like it.

Keep on Smiling; Gordon Brown, the Joker and Europe

I mentioned Gordon Brown’s U Tube appearance recently, the one where his face suddenly acquires an unbelievably stupid grin that bears no relation whatsoever to the things he is saying. I was reminded of something, the lunatic smile reminded me of someone, but I could not quite recall exactly what it was. Now I know: it was the Joker from Batman!

Well, he’s got no reason to smile today, no reason at all. The reports I'm getting on the Euro elections indicate that the Labour vote is projected to sink as low as 15%. Can you believe that? It’s the lowest ever for Labour as a national party, a real record.

What a wonderful achievement Mr Brown. You keep breaking records, not the records you might want to be remembered for breaking, but records notwithstanding. Can any other Prime Minister claim to have so many cabinet colleagues walk out in one week? Can any other Prime Minister say that he allowed the shape of a reshuffle be dictated by his colleagues? Now your vote has haemorrhaged away. I think it must be your proudest achievement that at least part of it bled towards the BNP, which now sends two representatives to Europe, another milestone attained under your watch.

Oh, well, Joker Brown. Never mind. You can continue to call on the services of Mandelson, aka Lord Rumba of Rio, a man who has risen from the political grave more often than Dracula! He’s soon to be joined by Lord Sugar of Shoddy, another inspired choice of yours, two greater hucksters I personally find difficult to imagine.

Do you believe in karma, dear Joker? I do. All through the Blair premiership you sowed the seed, yes, you did. Now you are reaping the fruit. I wish you a hearty appetite. Keep smiling, Joker: keep smiling. :-)

The Reshuffle that Never Was

While I was going up the stairs,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today.
I wish, I wish he'd go away

Or you can have this version;

In Downing Street upon the stair
I met a man who wasn't Blair.
He wasn't Blair again today.
Oh how I wish he'd go away.

Isn’t it wonderful, Gordon Brown’s last gasp attempt to save his wretched government, the reshuffle that never was! Yes, I know there are new faces, I know that Alan Johnston is now Home Secretary and there have been some other moves. So what? Yes, I have to write that; so what? We know Brown wanted to refresh the front ranks in a more fundamental way; we know he wanted to shift Alistair Darling, a Chancellor who, well, gets confused about money! We know he wanted to do this despite the lie our benighted Prime Minister told in his press conference yesterday, a conference that made him look more than usually stupid and less and less in command. Dear old eyebrows Alistair remains because if Brown attempted to move him he was likely to have walked off in a huff; and having already lost so many heads pre-shuffle this was something he simply could not risk.

Gordon Brown is a man who no longer controls the cabinet or events, not in any fundamental way. He’s even growing more reliant on creepy Peter Mandelson, his old political enemy. He’s even calling on-Lord help us-Alan ‘Amstrad’ Sugar as his ‘Enterprise Tsar’ Amstrad! Like Brown it’s just so yesterday. Hey, Tsar Amstrad, let me whisper in your ear ‘iPod, iPod.’

It really gets funnier by the day, as government in this country descends from high drama to low farce. Yes, indeed, it remains true, those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.