Like B*Witched and the SDP, I am far greater than the sum of my parts

Playing Top Trumps inside your own head.

Susan Calman: she's much greater than the sum of her parts. Photograph: Getty Images

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I love Twitter. I really do. Little fills my heart with joy more than disseminating pictures of cats dressed in funny costumes. I think it’s what the inventor of the internet would’ve wanted. It’s also easy to get used to the concept of “less is more” with Twitter. A mere 140 characters to discuss important political issues? No problem. It’s simple to vacuum-pack your life philosophy into one tweet. What could possibly go wrong? The obsession with reducing complex issues to a bite-sized morsel hasn’t been all fun. Disappointingly, some seem to believe that social media have led to a reduction in the capacity of the public to understand more than one idea at a time. Suddenly simplicity is the key to explanation.

I have personal experience of this particular trend. I’m often asked in interviews what it’s like to be a Scottish, female, comedian, ex-lawyer lesbian. I always answer that I’d find it more difficult to be an English, male, comedian, ex-lawyer lesbian and then I wait for the laugh from the journalist asking the question. Sadly, like summer in Scotland, it never comes. Of course, I’m being flippant, after being asked what is, in essence, a stupid question.

What I’m really being asked to do is play a game of top trumps with my own head, to simplify myself into one banner headline. Sort of what you’d have to do at the world’s least exciting speed-dating evening. But how do you start defining what you are? Is my being Scottish more important than the fact that I’m a feminist? Is being gay more influential within my own psyche than being a comedian? Does the fact that I’m an ex-lawyer with a degree in constitutional law mean that I have more sympathy with politicians? Usually I give a long and involved answer to the journalist who’s dissecting my political make-up with the sharpness of a scalpel made from marshmallow, only to read the final article, where my analysis is summarised with the sentence: “Calman likes cats.”

Whenever it seems that I’m required to create a Venn diagram of my mind, I remember the greats. The Nolans, the Jackson Five, B*Witched, the SDP. All examples of people who, when they worked together, were greater than the sum of their parts. And that’s what I am. A girl band comprising one short woman who can neither dance nor sing. I should enter Eurovision.

But back to the problem. Can I really say I’m more Scottish than gay? Is that even possible? I can’t discuss my queer politics without remembering I grew up in Glasgow in the 1980s where being gay was as easy as being a vegan in an abattoir.

What about being a woman in comedy? I’m often described as a “female” comedian, as if that adjective is required in order to prepare the audience for what might occur. It’s not really required in other jobs. Oh look there’s a “lady teacher” or a “woman accountant”. It’s a subtle way of introducing to an audience the notion that I don’t deserve the full title. Like giving someone beans on toast and then, when presenting them, whispering, “Sorry, they’re own-brand.” My gender obviously influences what I say. I can’t, for example, bemoan how difficult it is to be a white, straight, middle-class man in today’s society. (Apparently it’s really tough – at least, that’s what I keep hearing.)

If I say I’m Scottish first and foremost then I’m accused of being parochial. If I’m gay first (or a premier gay, as I like to call it) then I’m angry and man-hating. If I say that my legal background is most important then I’m dull. And if I say that the comedy is the most important thing, then why would anyone listen to a foul-mouthed clown?

It’s not possible to dissect myself, like an attention-seeking Mr Potato Head, into the sum of my own parts. The obsession with the 140-character Twitter summary of one’s identity just leads to descriptions sounding like a personal ad. “Late 30s gay scots lady, interest in law, GSOH”. The complexity of the human mind can’t be reduced to a one-word description. If we allowed ourselves to breathe, then perhaps we wouldn’t be so disappointed about other people we meet or vote for. We don’t live in the world of Mr Men, where I can wear a badge that says “Little Ms Scottish” or “Little Ms Lady Gay Comic”. I wish I could. But it’d have to be a really big badge.

Susan Calman is a comedian, and more

This article first appeared in the 12 April 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Centenary Special Issue

Paul Farrelly
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I represent a Leave constituency - but I want to delay triggering Brexit

Unlike most of his colleagues, Labour MP Paul Farrelly refused to vote for starting Brexit negotiations in March. He explains why. 

Not quite top marks, but eight out of 11 will do - for the justices on the United Kingdom Supreme Court, who have ruled that our country remains, indeed, a parliamentary democracy. 

Furthermore, they have ruled that legislation is necessary to trigger Article 50, which starts the Brexit process, not simply a plebiscite, nor a government diktat fancifully dressed up as a "royal prerogative".

Last June, my constituency of Newcastle-under-Lyme in the area home to the historic potteries industry voted 61 per cent to 39 per cent to leave the European Union. Yet in December, I was one of just nine Labour MPs to vote - twice - against rushing for the door by the end of March, come what may.

It was the third time since 2015 that I’d defied the Labour whip (quite modest compared with our leader’s record). The last was when - with the Tories’ true statesman, Ken Clarke - I refused to vote for the legislation paving the way for the referendum in the first place. 

I thought it a reckless gamble with our country’s future, which profoundly disregarded the lessons of the past. Six months down the line, I now realise that, of the "December nine", I was the only one with a Leave majority (though not a majority of all voters) in my seat.

Why? Was it a political death wish? A deliberate slap in the face for my electorate, who have returned a Labour MP now since 1919?

No, it simply made no coherent sense to hand the government a blank cheque before Christmas, before we'd seen what Prime Minister Theresa May wanted to achieve, and given our verdict in the national interest. 

Does that make me – like the judges again, no doubt, according to Ukip, some Tories and the Brexit press - an "enemy of the people"? Certainly not. 

My parliamentary next door neighbour Sir Bill Cash, doyen of the anti-EU lobby, has spent the last 40 years defying the "will of the people" from the overwhelming 1970s referendum. So I think we "rebels" can be cut a little slack for wanting to ask a few hard questions to hold the government to account.

On the face of it, Labour’s continued, official support for the government’s timetable renders today’s Supreme Court verdict of little practical consequence - in the Commons, at least. 

In December, our front bench had tried to be clever, crafting a mild motion calling for debate on a published plan before Article 50, to stir a Tory rebellion. But the PM smartly agreed to the demands, tacked on her timetable and Labour got trapped into riding her coat-tails. 

But at least now, through amendments to a government bill, we’ll have the chance – and so will the Lords – to influence the terms of departure, and who in the future has the final say.

In the PM’s speech a fortnight ago, I was pleased with her commitment to protecting the UK’s science base. Last week, I was at the opening of the fifth Innovation Centre at Keele University’s Science Park on my patch, for which European funding has been vital. That’s been hammered out, until 2020, but what happens further out is wholly up in the air. 

I was happy as well, of course, with the passage on workers’ rights. Ten years ago, I introduced the Private Member’s Bill to stop abuse of agency workers – a Labour 2005 manifesto commitment – which was then delivered at European level. That was aimed directly, too, at tackling the sort of levelling down that, all those years ago, was already stoking anger at immigration in areas like mine.

But these were, really, just warm words for the wider audience. The key concerns for our industry, local and national, about tariff-free trade and access to the single market are still there in spades. And in the 21st century economy, we have not squared "control of our borders". The demand for skills, not least when incomers from outside the EU – the element the government ostensibly can limit – formed the majority in the last statistics.

The reality is that, once Article 50 is triggered, the government will not control the agenda.  That will be in the hands, like it or loathe them, of the other 27 member states. 

The PM’s statement was workmanlike, with no real surprises; but what hardly helps the negotiations are the frenzied Noises Off-style gaffes. For Boris Johnson to liken any French President, on his way out or not, to a Colditz camp guard just stores up more trouble for tough times ahead.

In my formative years, way before politics, I organised international youth exchanges. Every summer, teenagers from all over Europe gathered to tend war graves in Berlin – where wounds of conflict were still fresh, and the Cold War divided the city by the Wall. 

My involvement came from growing up in Newcastle - in Staffordshire, where the German cemetery from both world wars lies next to the Commonwealth memorial on Cannock Chase. I grew up believing that the European Union and its forerunners, for all their frequent frustrations, were part and parcel of the architecture of peace, not just prosperity. 

Those loftier arguments, however, got lost sadly in the bewildering trading of facts and fictions in the referendum. "Turkey, population 76 million, is joining the EU. Vote Leave." Well no, it’s not, but those huge, bright red posters certainly changed the tone of the debate in the last few weeks on many a street last June, not just in Newcastle-under-Lyme.
 
After a narrow 52 per cent to 48 per cent Leave vote, we are now, though, where we are. 

For Labour, on our front bench Keir Starmer has been trying to make the best of a bad hand. Thanks to the Supreme Court, he now has an extra card. But I still just don’t like the way the dealer has stacked the deck.

Paul Farrelly is the Labour MP for Newcastle-under-Lyme. He has sat on numerous select committees, and currently sits on the Culture, Media and Sports committee.