Time to abolish the City of London?

The Tory politician calls for the abolition of the corporation that governs London's square mile and

So at long last after endless media speculation we have a decision from Gordon Brown: Crossrail will be built.

Never mind whether this project is still viable or practical having been first proposed fourteen years ago. Never mind that it has no benefit at all for most actual Londoners as opposed to commuters from the Home Counties.

The Government has bullied and cajoled the City Corporation, the business community and the Mayor of London to stump up the £16 billion required to fund this bribe for the election that never was.

The few days running up to the announcement that gave the go ahead to the project was a typical British bodge job. The deputy director of the CBI appeared on the Today Programme to announce they were very happy with the proposals for a supplementary business rate in London only to have three of his largest retail members, Tescos, Sainsburys and John Lewis partnership on the phone within an hour saying how cross they were.

The Lord Mayor of London was prevailed upon to call an extraordinary meeting of the Court of Common Council for the first time in living memory to roll over to the Government’s demands that the City Corporation cough up £300 million of their accumulated wealth , the so called “City cash” to make up the perceived shortfall.

The role of the City Corporation or the Corporation of the City of London as it has just rebranded itself, in this whole matter bears some investigation.

Unlike proper Local Authorities the Corporation has no Leader of the Council and indeed was immune from the provisions of the 2000 Local Government Act and therefore has an unofficial leader in the Chairman of its Policy and Resources Committee currently Mr Michael Snyder.

As the City of London does not have any Party Politics it is replaced by the much more vicious personality politics and Michael Snyder who is currently serving the final year as Chairman has his fare share of critics.

Indeed his nickname among his many enemies on the Court of Common Council is 'Lord Voldermort' and just like his two predecessors (Michael Cassidy who bizarrely thought he could run for Mayor of London in 2000, and Dame Judith Mayhew whose reward for doing the Government’s bidding was a disastrous period as Master of Kings College) is perceived to have become far too powerful and in his desperation to receive a knighthood regularly pops round to Number 10, City Hall and the Treasury to charm Messrs Brown, Livingstone and Darling.

Apparently the City Corporation holds about £1 billion in City Cash the interest for which pays for the many (on the whole excellent) services that the City provides to the rest of London and also for the endless and lavish hospitality dished out to the Great and the Good at Guildhall, Mansion House and sundry Livery Halls, (I suspect that my invitations to such functions will now cease to the benefit of my substantial waist line).

This money built up over Centuries is held in trust by the Corporation on behalf of all the people of London and quite why the current members of the Corporation feel they can surrender it at the behest of this current Government I cannot understand. The exact figures remain a mystery as the matter as with so much City Corporation business was discussed in secret.

Whilst the tradition, pomp and ceremony of the City of London adds much to our Capital's life, the politics of the Corporation would benefit considerably from more openness and democracy. Quite why the City Aldermen should reject candidates for the top jobs of Sheriff and Lord Mayor on the grounds that they are Gay, female or an Evangelical Christian is beyond me.

One senior London Tory suggested to me that abolition of the Corporation in its current Political form was long overdue and a number are now saying that the time has come for all three Political parties to run slates of candidates in City elections to give the voters a proper choice.

Crossrail may well benefit the Corporation in the short term but the long term Political damage may not be worth a few trains from Maidenhead

Brian Coleman was first elected to the London Assembly in June 2000. Widely outspoken he is best known for his groundbreaking policy of removing traffic calming measures
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Would you jump off a cliff if someone told you to? One time, I did

I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain.

Ever heard the phrase, “Would you jump off a cliff if they told you to?” It was the perpetual motif of my young teenage years: my daily escapades, all of which sprang from a need to impress a peer, were distressing and disgusting my parents.

At 13, this tomboyish streak developed further. I wrote urgent, angry poems containing lines like: “Who has desire for something higher than jumping for joy and smashing a light?” I wanted to push everything to its limits, to burst up through the ceiling of the small town I lived in and land in America, or London, or at least Derby. This was coupled with a potent and thumping appetite for attention.

At the height of these feelings, I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain. One of the cool girls started saying that her cousin had jumped off the bridge into the river and had just swum away – and that one of us should do it.

Then someone said that I should do it, because I always did that stuff. More people started saying I should. The group drew to a halt. Someone offered me a pound, which was the clincher. “I’m going to jump!” I yelled, and clambered on to the railing.

There wasn’t a complete hush, which annoyed me. I looked down. It was raining very hard and I couldn’t see the bottom of the riverbed. “It looks really deep because of the rain,” someone said. I told myself it would just be like jumping into a swimming pool. It would be over in a few minutes, and then everyone would know I’d done it. No one could ever take it away from me. Also, somebody would probably buy me some Embassy Filter, and maybe a Chomp.

So, surprising even myself, I jumped.

I was about three seconds in the air. I kept my eyes wide open, and saw the blur of trees, the white sky and my dyed red hair. I landed with my left foot at a 90-degree angle to my left ankle, and all I could see was red. “I’ve gone blind!” I thought, then realised it was my hair, which was plastered on to my eyes with rain.

When I pushed it out of the way and looked around, there was no one to be seen. They must have started running as I jumped. Then I heard a voice from the riverbank – a girl called Erin Condron, who I didn’t know very well. She pushed me home on someone’s skateboard, because my ankle was broken.

When we got to my house, I waited for Mum to say, “Would you jump off another cliff if they told you to?” but she was ashen. I had to lie that Dave McDonald’s brother had pushed me in the duck pond. And that’s when my ankle started to throb. I never got the pound, but I will always be grateful to Erin Condron. 

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser