The Prime Monster gets cuddly

Brown has become all touchy-feely since the Prime Monster bullying row.

Big Gordie is frightening his colleagues again -- this time with hugs. Brown has become all touchy-feely since the Prime Monster bullying row. I hear from a surprised visitor to No 10 that he has taken to greeting ministers and MPs with a mighty embrace instead of a growl. The government's less robust members complain that the Great Hugger's mateyness is intimidating. One said he would rather take his chances with a flying Nokia than a bear hug that squeezed him to within a breath of his life.

The Tory whip Simon Burns is plotting revenge on Speaker Bercow after he denounced Burns's rowdy behaviour at Prime Minister's Questions. A tearoom informant whispered that a seething Burns is threatening to stand against Bercow when the new Commons comes to elect its chair. If David "Daddy-to-Be" Cameron tells Burns to hold fire, the Chelmsford West bruiser has a plan B. He will run for deputy speaker. "I would be," Burns was overheard saying, "the deputy from hell."

"I am the daughter of working-class Italian immigrants," Gloria De Piero wrote on her CV for the Labour candidacy in Ashfield, Nottinghamshire. Twice. It worked. The former GMTV presenter, who came 85th in FHM's 2008 list of the World's Sexiest Women, won the ballot to succeed the rather less glamorous would-be lobbyist Geoff "Buff" Hoon. She was once known as "Tony Blair's favourite broadcaster", but it seems the ex-PM is not quite as popular with her. On her CV she also cited interviews (for this magazine) with Gordon Brown, Alan Johnson and Ed Balls. One name absent from the two pages was Blair.

Cash-strapped Labour is charging hacks £13,000 to sit on a bus to follow Brown during the election. The price smacks of an unsubtle subsidy. Fleet Street is revolting, if you know what I mean. There is talk of a boycott.

The Tory union-basher Michael Gove was a serial striker in his younger days. A snap of the trainee hack on a picket line outside the Press and Journal in Aberdeen two decades ago isn't the only evidence of Red Mike's militancy. A snout recalls Gove downing pens at the BBC in 1994. During unrest at Auntie, he was despatched by union officials to persuade other right-wingers to join the walkouts. By all accounts, he was effective. Up the Tories!

The target of Gove's recent anti-union blasts, Charlie Whelan, evaded the Tory tabloids by tweeting that he had been fishing when the British Airways strike started. But that very same day my spy observed a Whelan-like bloke in Unite House, the union's London office. Fishing for parliamentary seats, perhaps.

Laura Moffatt, MP for Crawley, had her majority at the last election -- 37 -- tattooed on an ankle. Quitting has its upside. Before deciding to step down, fiftysomething Moffatt had originally planned, if she won this time around, to get another tattoo. On her bottom.

Kevin Maguire is associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror

 

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Kevin Maguire is Associate Editor (Politics) on the Daily Mirror and author of our Commons Confidential column on the high politics and low life in Westminster. An award-winning journalist, he is in frequent demand on television and radio and co-authored a book on great parliamentary scandals. He was formerly Chief Reporter on the Guardian and Labour Correspondent on the Daily Telegraph.

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Why Philip Green's fall should bring down the honours system – but won't

Sir Shifty may fall in disgrace, but our ridiculous system will endure. No matter what's happening in the rest of politics.

Sir Philip Green’s Efficiency Review (2010) is his Das Kapital and it is still, happily, online. You can, if you wish, smirk at his recommendations to the government, which were solicited by David Cameron, I imagine, because when he stood next to Green he looked not like a 17th-century woodcut but like a tall, handsome semi-aristocrat.

“There is no motivation to save money or to treat cash ‘as your own’,” Green grumbles, before complaining, “There are inconsistent commercial skills across departments.” I am weeping with laughter at the whole report. But I’m not one of those BHS employees watching their pension ­vanish as the hideous cushions, throws and bedspreads pile up on the Green family yacht Lionheart. I instantly rename the yacht 14-Day Return Policy No More.

The days when Green could write efficiency reviews for people to ignore are gone. It is said that he could lose his knighthood, because that would be exciting and pointless. If so, I hope the ceremony features the formal rending of a garment from the BHS sale bin – perhaps a torn sock will be flung at his head? The Queen will not be happy, because de-knighting makes the ancient system of patronage look as ridiculous as it really is. Do intercessors between man and God make mistakes? Would they raise a man the Daily Mail now calls “Sir Shifty”? (I checked whether there was a Sir Shifty among the knights of the Round Table who flogged the Holy Grail to a passing tinker. There was not.)

Lord Melbourne advised Queen Victoria not to attempt to make her husband, Albert, a king, for if the people knew that they could make kings, they might unmake them. Green will discover this in his tiny way. But the elites should not hide their baubles. One fallen knight will not destroy the system (and I cannot think that Green will take £571m from his Lionheart cushion budget to save his knighthood by replenishing the BHS pension fund, because a knighthood is, in essence, just a tiny Bentley Continental that you wear over your nipple). One fallen knight should destroy the system but it won’t, because human conceit and docility are without end. Green will be shunned. Nothing will change.

One might have hoped that the Brexit vote would have alerted Cameron to the abyss between the electorate and the elected. (Even Alastair Campbell, chomping against Brexit, seemed to forget that he was as complicit in the alienation of voters as anyone else: government by sofa, teeth and war.) The response was glib, even for Cameron, a man so glib that I sometimes think he is a reflection in a pond. Brexit hit him like someone caught in a mild shower without an umbrella. He hummed at the lesson that history dealt him; he hummed as he left his page. It was the hum of the alpha Etonian caught out in a mistake, yes, but it was still a bloody hum.

His next act was to increase pay-offs to favoured courtiers against civil service advice and at public expense; then, it was reported, he nominated his spin doctor Craig Oliver and his former spin doctor Gabby Bertin for peerages, because the upper house needs more PRs. He has learned nothing. I wish him a relaxed retirement in which he will, apparently, write his four-page memoir, David Cameron: My Struggle (sub-subtitle: Eton Mess?). I hope he does not attempt to deny “the prosciutto affair”, because there is no need. It was not true. It was too pure a metaphor.

So the honours system, an essential part of our alienating politics, alongside dodgy donors, duck houses and George Galloway, endures in its worst form as conventional politics fails. It is a donkey sanctuary for political friends and Bruce Forsyth. I am not suggesting that everyone who has been honoured is dreadful – some lollipop ladies deserve to be patronised with an OBE (when there is no E any more), I am sure, and the lords, some of whom are excellent, are the functional opposition now – but the system can no longer be defended by the mirth potential of watching politicians ponder what light-entertainment celebrities might swing a marginal before being posthumously accused of rape. We must find something better before the house burns down. Perhaps a robust parliamentary democracy?

The problem is best expressed by the existence of a specialist consultancy called Awards Intelligence, which engages in “VIP brand-building” by soliciting awards. It sells “awards plans” from £795, which I could well imagine Philip Green perusing as he bobs about aboard Lionheart, were it not too late. The Awards Intelligence website tells us so much, though obliviously, about the narcissism of modern politics that I am tempted to reproduce it in full. But I will merely report that it asks:

"Did you know that you can join the House of Lords on a part-time basis as an Independent Crossbench Peer or a political peer affiliated to one of the main politial parties – even if you have ongoing work, family or community commitments!"

The message from Awards Intelligence, which boasts of a 50 per cent success rate, is clear: the legislature is part-time, it exists to “instil trust, add credibility and provide a platform for you to have your say” – and it can’t always spell “political”.

Sir Shifty and Awards Intelligence do not constitute the worst crisis in the history of honours, dreadful though they are. During the First World War the royal German cousins were stripped of their garters, so that British soldiers would not have to kill men of higher rank. But it is time for the Queen to stop pinning toys on nipples. They are part of a political system sweeping us, swiftly, towards the night.

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue