The indiscretion of Vince Cable

Should constituency surgeries always be confidential?

Today the Daily Telegraph publishes further reports of secretly recorded conversations with Liberal Democrat MPs. These follow yesterday's disclosures of Vince Cable's ill-considered comments recorded at his constituency surgery. The revelations are certainly interesting, but are such clandestine tactics in the public interest?

In the case of Vince Cable's remark that he had declared "war on Murdoch", there is arguably a public interest. It is unacceptable for a decision-maker with public law duties (or "quasi-judicial" powers, as old-fashioned lawyers would call them) to say such a thing of any party that could possibly be affected adversely by his or her decision. In my view, the quashing of such a decision would be a mere legal formality.

But the Daily Telegraph did not initially publish that particular remark, and it is not clear that it ever intended to do so. Instead, it was first published by the BBC in a scoop. This reluctance on the part of the Daily Telegraph may be explained by an understandable wish not to help a commercial competitor, though there could be other, less cynical explanations. Moreover, to catch the Business Secretary saying such a thing was not, in fact, the intention of the undercover reporters: it was an unexpected slip. Rather, the intention seems to have been to capture what Liberal Democrats were "really saying" about the coalition.

If so, there are easier ways. For example, the Daily Telegraph's lobby correspondents routinely hear what Liberal Democrat MPs are "really saying" about the coalition. But because these conversations are conducted on lobby terms, any criticisms will not be attributed to the MP in question. In this way, it would appear that the only mistake made by the Lib Dem MPs in this affair is to talk frankly to someone who appeared to be a constituent (whom the MP actually represents), rather than speak directly to a Daily Telegraph lobby correspondent. The exercise carried out by the Telegraph's undercover reporters would not be required if it were not for the conventions of non-attributed lobby briefings, in which the newspaper itself connives.

As a general rule, the constituency surgery of an MP should not be the place to make secret recordings. That said, the confidentiality of constituency surgeries exists to protect the constituent, not the MP (just as legal professional privilege exists to protect the client, and not the lawyer). As such, it is open for any constituent (real or supposed) to disclose what is said by an MP. On this basis, the Daily Telegraph's secret recordings do not so far breach any grand political or legal principle.

However, there is some cause for concern. One suspects that the first use of interceptions of voicemails by tabloid reporters had a solid public-interest basis; but it was quickly realised that such material was a rich seam, to be mined just for trivial stories. Similarly, one hopes that newspapers do not now see constituency surgeries as "fair game". The secret recording of constituents would never be appropriate: there will always be the need for a private space where a constituent can speak candidly to his or her member of parliament.

David Allen Green is a lawyer and writer. He is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and was shortlisted for the Orwell Prize for blogging in 2010.

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog.

His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case.  His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson.

David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court.

(Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.)

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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