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Back to the fantasy

Public hysteria over Kate, Wills and the royal wedding is another kind of crowd madness, writes Will

In February 1542, Katherine Howard, Henry VIII's fifth wife, was executed under the terms of speedily concocted legislation that made it a capital offence not only for the Queen to have committed adultery, but for her "handlers" to have concealed that she had had sexual liaisons before her marriage. Henceforth it would be treasonable to keep from the king information concerning any "will, act or condition of lightness of body in her which for the time being shall be queen of this realm". The penalty for said light bodies and those who didn't rat on them was to be the same: death.

Half a millennium later, another Kate is getting hitched to an English monarch (albeit one in embryonic form); and while physical death probably wouldn't be Ms Middleton's penalty if it were discovered that she had spent her student days at swingers' clubs swigging back liquid Ecstasy while taking on all comers, she would certainly endure the modern equivalent: death by media. This Kate's head would be digitally severed from her body and pasted on to a billion tabloids, and the sanctity of public opinion would be withdrawn from her - a latter-day excommunication.

Sadly, we can be reasonably sure this ain't gonna happen. Ms Middleton's old linen has been thoroughly mediatised already, while MI5 will have gone over all her known associates with the proverbial pubic lice comb. Unlike poor Katherine Howard (or, indeed, her groom's late mother), no one is saying that the soon-to-be Princess of Wales should be virgo intacta, and yet the phrase "a past but no history", has been used approvingly of her.

Some may feel that my concentration on the sexual hinterland of the royal bride is a little prurient, but let's get this perfectly straight: this royal wedding, like all other royal weddings that involve the line of succession, is all about sex and nothing else. I say sex but what I really mean is procreation - I say procreation but what I really mean is breeding, although not "breeding" in the sense used by old-fashioned snobs, but breeding as practised selectively by members of the Kennel Club, or, indeed, adherents of a satanic cult that uses a so-called "broodmare" in its rituals.

It is difficult in the early 21st century to account for the stands along the Mall, the bunting here, there and every-bloody-where, the memorabilia, the unmemorable blether, and all the other manifestations of hysterical approbation that float around these nuptials in a great cloud of unknowing. Most Britons are pretty clear-sighted folk: they know there's nothing special about members of the royal family in and of themselves; they also understand that, in constitutional terms, the monarchy is a kind of feint, designed to distract us from our gerrymandered electoral dictatorship.

William Windsor seems to be a fairly decent young man, especially considering his upbringing; and while Kate Middleton is ostensibly blameworthy - having chosen to get mixed up with this farrago - she, too, is young and probably wouldn't take much deprogramming. Still, I've known crack dealers with a more aristocratic bearing than this heir to the throne, and I've consorted with prostitutes who were almost certainly wittier and smarter - and who indisputably have far better dress sense - than our future queen. I'm sure that so have most of you. How then do we account for this marriage madness?

The answer is that, just as with that founding father of serial monogamy, the reginacidal Henry, the British crowd is driven mad by the quest for an heir. And so, at a subconscious level, this perverse exercise in humans being treated as if they were miniature Schnauzers grips a good part of the nation.

To themselves, and to anchorwomen from the American TV networks whose visages closely resemble cling film stretched over cold chicken, the royalists will stolidly proclaim the virtues of the couple: their exemplary capability for public service, charity, forbearance, et cetera, et cetera. In fact, they will be unable to view the ceremony except through retinas and camera lenses smeared with royal sperm.

Freud viewed the hysteria of his female patients in fin-de-siècle Vienna as the result of suppressed sexual desire - in his memorable coinage, such phantasmagorical symptoms resulted from a failure to achieve "full genitality". The British body politic is similarly afflicted by delusional thinking. Due to a repressive convention that makes the statement "I want a republic" as unutterable for front-bench politicians as "I want to get laid" would have been for Freud's patients a century ago, the entire nation has become unable to achieve what we might term "full constitutionality". And so the people fall prey to voyeurism and other perversions, seeking their jollies in the consummation of the royal couple's union. Following the days of Pearly Spencer and her genuinely adulterous hubbie, the whole miserable syndrome seemed to be fading away. We had the Prince of Biscuits to thank for this, as his egregious exploits helped expose the grotesque chauvinism that lurks beneath all that satin, silk and tulle. I used to deride Chucky as "Prince of Tampons", but I now think there's something rather affecting about his leaked sex talk, and his blatant refusal to do only who was expected of him - by the public, if not the court.

Now his son is riding to the rescue and the whole storybook phantasia is under way once more: the queen-to-be is a clotheshorse to be serviced, the institution of monarchy is a honey trap for tourists, and so we carry on sending our armed forces - of which the prince is an exemplary officer - off to impose our ways on the Mad Mullah de nos jours.

With lunacy like this abroad in the land, now is not the time to be cutting down funding for mental health services, is it?

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 02 May 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The Firm

Andrew Bell/Guardian (Jeremy Corbyn)
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Who’s who in Team Corbyn

Who are the key players in Jeremy Corbyn's team?

Kat Fletcher
Head of strategy and key aide

By coincidence, there are two unrelated Fletchers at the heart of the Corbyn operation (the other one is Simon: see below). Both come with experience of beating the Labour establishment – Kat was elected NUS president in 2004 against opposition from the more centrist Labour Students group. She has been close to Corbyn for close to a decade and was his agent in this year’s election. She is also a power player in Islington politics in her own right, rising to deputy mayor just two years after being elected as a councillor. Outside politics, she runs a small chain of gastropubs called Handmade Pubs.

Photo: Kat Fletcher

 

Seb Corbyn
Bag-carrier

No race for the Labour leadership would be complete without the presence of a Red Prince or two. The second of Corbyn’s three sons is a Cambridge graduate who has been pressed into service as a bag-carrier and all-purpose aide for this election. (His mother is Corbyn’s second wife, Claudia Bracchitta.) Seb, 25, was the author of a touching scene on the campaign trail when he patted his father’s hair down after both were caught in heavy winds in London. Beyond the campaign, he works for John McDonnell, another close ally of his father’s.

Photo: Carmel Nolan, Jeremy Corbyn and his son Seb

Carmel Nolan
Head of press

Corbyn’s press chief is a former radio journalist and veteran campaigner from Liverpool – and, like him, was a leading architect of the Stop the War coalition. She has described the Corbyn team as “a coalition of the willing and the available” and “like Stop the War with bells on”. Nolan, formerly known as Carmel Brown, is respected by Westminster hacks as a serious operator. In her spare time she researches the fates of Liverpool men who served in the Second World War.

Her daughter, Hope, is credited with coming up with the name for George Galloway’s anti-war party in 2004. Then aged just eight, she picked two names: one was the “Give All Your Sweeties to Hope Party”. The other was Respect.

 

Clive Lewis
MP who nominated Corbyn

Star of the distinctly left-wing clutch of 2015 Labour MPs, Lewis was one of Corbyn’s earliest and most vocal backers – Corbyn credited the new MP for Norwich South with getting his nomination “off the ground”.

Lewis, who worked for more than a decade as a journalist with the BBC, is tipped for a shadow cabinet position (Defence or Culture are rumoured briefs) if Corbyn wins the leadership. He called New Labour “dead and buried” in his victory speech in May 2015.

 

Simon Fletcher
Campaign chief

A veteran back-room operative, Fletcher spent eight years as Ken Livingstone’s chief of staff. In 2000, after Tony Blair ensured that Livingstone was not selected as Labour’s candidate for mayor of London, Fletcher took him to victory as an independent, masterminding a “Stand down, Frank” campaign against Frank Dobson.

Photo: Simon Fletcher

Fletcher originally met Livingstone through Socialist Action, the Trotskyist group, and the former mayor’s memoirs record his friend getting the highest First from City of London Poly in its history (he led a student occupation there) before working on Tony Benn’s archives. In 2009 Fletcher denounced Gordon Brown for “pandering to the BNP” over allocation of social housing. More recently, he was an aide to Ed Miliband, working as his trade union liaison officer from 2013 onwards. He is credited with renegotiating the unions’ relationship with Labour after that year’s Falkirk selection row.

 

John McDonnell
Campaign manager in the Parliamentary Labour Party

After two failed attempts at the Labour leadership (he was kept off the ballot both times), the Socialist Campaign Group chair chose not to stand again this year. Instead, having persuaded Corbyn to run, the Hayes and Harlington MP became his campaign manager. Since his election in 1997, McDonnell, 63, has been one of Corbyn’s greatest parliamentary allies – though some MPs see him as abrasive, unlike his endlessly courteous friend. It was recently reported that he has been promised the post of shadow chancellor, a claim Corbyn sources deny.

 

Jon Trickett
Ideas guru

The Yorkshireman is Jeremy Corbyn’s only supporter in the shadow cabinet. Having been a senior adviser to Ed Miliband, the 65-year-old Trickett was pressured by some to stand as the left’s candidate in the leadership contest but declined – leaving the field clear for Corbyn. Although some in Camp Corbyn regard him with suspicion because he served as a PPS to Gordon Brown, the Hemsworth MP and former Leeds City Council leader is in line for a big role in Corbyn’s front-bench team.

Photo: Jon Trickett

Richard Burgon
MP and supporter

Another high-profile left-winger in Labour’s 2015 intake, Burgon is of solid socialist stock: a trade union lawyer and nephew of the former Labour MP Colin Burgon, a long-term champion of Venezuela’s Hugo Chávez. A dedicated Corbynite, the Leeds East MP might shadow either the Justice Secretary or Chief Secretary to the Treasury. Like Corbyn, he is a republican; he swore an oath to the Queen on taking his seat but describes himself as “someone that believes that the head of state should be elected”.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism