Television
They've never had it so good
Published 05 March 2007
Maxine Peake brings an unexpected sweetness to John Prescott's adultery
Confessions of a Diary Secretary ITV1
"A comedy" it said after its title, and a comedy it was. This recreation of the essentially recreational affair between John Prescott and his diary secretary, Tracey Temple, was not, as it would have been on BBC2, an exercise in political biography. It was not, as Channel 4 would have demanded, a satire on Blairism. It was a comedy and it found its home on unpretentious ol' ITV. Confessions of a Diary Secretary (28 February, 9pm) had no message to deliver and, as a result, form chased content. If ever there was an affair that - as men say to their wives - "meant nothing" it was this one.
It must be disappointing to discover one has, despite all one's power and influence, a physique and personality built only for comedy. Yet Prescott's resemblance to Les Dawson has, it seems, allowed him latitude others might envy. Had, say, the spindly Peter Mandelson struck out at an egg-thrower in the 2001 election, a prissy and histrionic career would truly have been over. If one is to believe Tony Basgallop's script, Prescott's spooneristic charm has licensed him to trade in vertiginous, possibly illegal, innuendo - although I am not sure if the chat-up line "I bet those nipples are fantastic when they are erect" strictly counts as innuendo.
The sheer unlikelihood of the affair was its greatest alibi, the comedy argued. "He's Prescott!" exclaimed Temple when a colleague questioned their friendship. The more outrageously they flirted in public, the less anyone would believe anything was happening in private. "Physically I would find it difficult," Temple's secretary agreed, "but if power and oafish charm were my aphrodisiac . . ."
The script was not afraid of striking beneath the belt. When Prezza flops one night in bed, Temple suggests procuring Viagra. "Who do you suggest I ring?" he asks. "Blunkett?" she offers. Footage of Robin Cook's honourable resignation from the government over Iraq is shown on television, as she administers the lesser man's blow job. If Prescott's reputation were capable of sinking any lower, Confessions would have holed it below the Plimsoll line.
The wonderful John Henshaw, unknown to viewers a decade ago, created a version of Prescott that was hardly even an exaggeration. But his wheezy jocularity papered over a diabetic melancholy whose roots might be grief at the loss of the Labour Party he joined.
But everything was seen through the girlish diarist. Maxine Peake, who played her, is emerging as one of the major talents of British drama. Here she was the sensible civil servant who was not quite sensible enough, the career girl whose career did not fulfil her, a man's woman who had not found her man. (Barrie Williams, her hopeless trucker boyfriend, was perfectly drummed up in his fleeting scenes by Daniel Ryan.)
As a comedy, perhaps, Confessions failed. Only the scene in which Tony and Gordon, the Tweedles Dum and Dee of British politics, came for supper at the DPM's flat made me actually laugh. Instead, the performances finally granted Prezza and his mistress pathos. Seeing her bravely make new friends in her demoted job brought a tear to my eye. "What was he like then?" the girls asked. "Fat," she giggled back. Only the revelation that she had sold her diaries soured the tale's unexpected sweetness.
Decadence is said to be the final phase of dying regimes, but Prezza's affair began five years ago, so exhaustion after a decade in office is not an excuse. Ten years is, however, a long time for anyone to write a column and, although I can blame my departure from this one on force majeure, it may not be before time. If you want to know what I think about television you will have, in future, to turn to the Times. In a few weeks, I hope to return to the NS to discuss radio and, from time to time, comedy. This column, which I have loved writing, could not be in safer, or more inspired, hands than those of my successor, Rachel Cooke.
Rachel Cooke starts her TV column the week after next
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Here's how the Senate hopeful failed to get John Kerry elected.
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9 March, 9pm, BBC1
The original reality game show returns after seven years adrift.
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