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The Queen should stick to Christmas broadcasts but, otherwise, the Brits give great funeral
When the day of the Queen Mother's funeral finally came, few of us needed the Independent poll - 54 per cent in support, 34 per cent wanting radical reform and 12 per cent for abolition - to tell us that this nation has once again taken the royal family to its heart.
With the same deft PR touch displayed during the Blitz, the Queen Mother's "DIY funeral" reminded this country why the monarchy matters, or at least why it matters to us. And if ever we needed proof that it is the women who have defined the royal family, that funeral provided it: as one good woman departed front stage, her granddaughter Princess Anne stepped up to help fill the gap. The Queen, for her part, was regally tragic.
In media terms, it has been a triumph for the major players - the Queen, Charles and Anne, even Prince Philip. Except for Prince Edward, that is. Throughout the proceedings, he looked for all the world like a shifty little undertaker who had slipped unnoticed into the funeral procession.
Ironically, it was one woman, Diana, who almost destroyed Prince Charles's chances of becoming king, and another, his grandmother, who these past two weeks restored them. Charles surpassed himself with the broadcast to his "beloved granny". Every action thereafter demonstrated his love and, for the first time in decades, made the royals seem not so much one of us, but more like the rest of us. But in future, the Queen should stick to her Christmas broadcasts. The TV tribute is a difficult genre: as William Hague discovered after Diana's death, genuine sincerity and true feeling are not enough.
The Brits give great funeral, as does the British press. The early signs are that the papers which sold the most extra copies were the ones that devoted the most coverage to the Queen Mother's death - the Sun, the Mail, the Telegraph. Those expecting a Murdoch-inspired anti-royalist Times under the new Aussie editor, Robert Thomson, were disappointed. We'll have to wait for the final circulation figures to see who won the most readers during what must be remembered as Britain's longest goodbye.
The relaunch of the Independent is the latest example of our capacity for denial. When President Blair, sorry, President Bush talks of killing the leaders of hostile countries, he calls it "regime change". (The first time I heard the expression, I thought it was an anti-ageing cream.) Then the Indy, on the first day of its "improvements", welcomed readers to a "changed" product. The new "please don't call it a relaunch" package - introducing a tabloid second section and a return to a substantial first broadsheet section with leaders, letters, comment - feels right, but also gives one a sense of deja vu. Didn't Ian Hargreaves try the analysis-before-the-comment structure back in the Nineties? This paper has been relaunched more times than Michael Barrymore's career - I think I oversaw two of them myself. The two broadsheet sections never really worked, largely because the lack of pagination made it feel lightweight. The new package seems more substantial and makes the best use of the paper's writers. The Day 1 mission statement was ill-advised - mission statements are about as alluring as the missionary position; the only difference here was that the Indy asked us to lie back and think of Europe.
The real battleground for the broadsheets will now be their tabloid sections - apart from the Telegraph, which has so far stuck with tradition. With the Indy having just launched its tabloid, and the Times getting ready to relaunch T2, they are both seeking to take on and overtake the Guardian's G2. This is a tall order, especially given the Guardian's stranglehold over the classified ad market.
But good luck to the Independent's editor, Simon Kelner. With the smallest team and the tightest budget in Fleet Street, his newspaper is a daily miracle anyway. Oh, and I will never again listen when people tell me that Don Macintyre and David Aaronovitch are vain. Their Krays-style byline pictures in the Indy prove that to be a complete lie.
The Today programme should ban all ministers who use the latest trick from the "New Labour Spin Handbook", demonstrated most ably the other day by the Foreign Office minister Ben Bradshaw.
When asked - absolutely legitimately - about the link between the Prime Minister's personal foreign affairs adviser Lord Levy, an Australian property developer, a substantial fee and No 10, he cried with indignation that he had not been warned of the question by the show's producers and would therefore not answer it.
When pressed, he said he was not even aware of the story and was not in a position to comment. It was the splash in the Sunday Times the day before and was carried by almost every newspaper on the day of his interview. Ignorance is no defence, Mr Bradshaw.
Mystery continues to surround the naming of Liz Hurley's baby boy - Damian Charles. It is alleged, in polite circles, that Damian was the pet name for the pet part of the alleged father Steve Bing. The name will thus provide a constant reminder to the US businessman, as he continues to question his involvement in the matter.
Even more perplexing is this - if Liz is so sure that multi-millionaire Bing is the father and that "their" baby will be well provided for, why is she rumoured to be negotiating a huge fee for baby Damian pictures?
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