Baroness Warsi, Bahrain and the falsehood of British democracy

The Queen has invited the King of Bahrain to her Jubilee - but criticising her would be "mean", the

As Bahrain descends into its “three days of rage” leading up to Sunday's Grand Prix, at once barring journalists and repelling Formula One drivers, we have to wonder what pro-democracy protesters would make of a preened politician refusing to denounce their oppressor on prime-time TV.

Conservative Party Chairman Baroness Sayeeda Warsi, whose hair is so shiny it reflects off every camera pointing at her, told BBC Question Time viewers last night that it would be “mean” to condemn the Queen for entertaining the King of Bahrain at a Diamond Jubilee luncheon. 
 
Woops! Poor Liz. We clearly should never have said anything about the matter, despite, you know, living in a democracy and all. Like Bahraini king Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa authorising his army to detain nearly 3000 pro-democracy protesters and kill more than 50, perhaps our head of state should be able to do exactly what she likes without criticism. Does the Queen even know of the plight of Abdulhadi al-Khawaja, the former president of the Bahrain Centre for Human Rights who has been on hunger strike for 73 days now? He was sentenced to life imprisonment in June for plotting a coup against the ruling elite; the sentence was imposed under emergency laws specifically targeting activists who demonstrated in the uprisings of February and March last year.
 
Bahrain, like Syria, is still very much in the middle of its Arab Spring, more than a year after uprisings began. At first ignored by mainstream media and politicians who preferred to entertain the ethics surrounding a NATO mission in Libya, it is perhaps not far-fetched to suggest that were it not for the Formula One Grand Prix, this small island in the Persian Gulf wouldn't have received half the international media coverage it has. There seems no need to question why this might be: the coalition government, for all its disgust at Russia's arms deals with Syria, authorised the sale of £2.2m of arms to Bahrain in the summer.
 
Civil unrest in Bahrain is still being swept under the carpet. Formula One chief Bernie Ecclestone earlier this month refused to withdraw the Grand Prix from the country, despite doing so last year. Former leader of the Metropolitan Police's Special Inquiry Squad, John “Yates of the Yard” Yates, was appointed by Al Khalifa to help out his security services (from one moral scandal to another, some might say). As though writing a holiday postcard home, he commented that Bahrain was “a delightful place”. And while the Crown Prince Salman bin Hamad Al Khalifa was embarrassed into pulling out of an invitation to last year's ubiquitous royal wedding, Bahraini and British royalty will finally reconcile at a Windsor Castle jubilee lunch next month. 
 
The whole charade smacks of everything that is wrong with an unelected head of state. We can nod alongside William Hague's disapproval of the use of live ammunition on Bahraini activists, even protest against the exchange of arms approved by the same man's own government. But God forbid we should be "mean" enough to criticise the Queen when all she wants to do is celebrate 60 years of unelected rule with her dictator friends. 
 
Baroness Warsi might have caused outrage last night - but she also revealed a critical truth about Britain. Question the powers that be, and you get shot down. It might not be torture and teargas, but it's certainly not democratic. 
Bahraini Shiite Muslims protesting against the Grand Prix. Photo: Getty Images
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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times