Party Political Animal

Posts Tagged ‘Gordon Brown’

It’s almost enough to make you feel sorry for Gordon Brown – but I urge you to resist the temptation.
The news that “Lord” Levy had stuck his well-heeled boot into the prime minister should be taken for what it is: book – and self – promotion.

Yet spare no pity for Brown. There is, and never was, a Rizzla’s width between Blair and Brown on policy, as is becoming increasingly apparent. Brown, like Blair, signed up to the corrupt sale of peerages in which Levy was pivotal. Brown, like Blair, raised hardly a whimper about the failure to honour the ’97 election pledge to democratise the House of Lords.

Brown himself was doshed-up by numerous dubious characters like Geoffrey Robinson MP, whose short-lived job as Treasury Paymaster General could not have been unconnected with his generous support of Brown’s office – not to mention the flash gaffs he made available for Brown’s relaxation and pleasure.

What is becoming increasingly apparent is what a poisonous mob these Labour people are. They came to us in ’97 all creepy-smiley nice-guy, but all they have in common is mutual contempt, allied to an unhealthy lust for power at almost any cost.

Sure, we Tories fell out. But it was over policy, not personality. The main protagonists under Major – Heseltine, Clarke, Hurd, Rifkind, Howard etc etc – all remained at least cordial and often on very good terms.

Of course I exclude from that the most toxic of the Tory eurosceptics. But where are they now? Bemoaning the fate of the Euro, no doubt. Woops – maybe not.

But I digress – New Labour was backed from the word go by a bunch of self-serving spivs. Now Labour can do no more for them, the spivs have turned and are hastening their end.      

Phillip Oppenheim

Gordon Brown is probably breathing a huge sign of relief that T5 wasn’t on Nick and Carla’s itinerary of great British achievements. They did, however, look in on the Emirates – fine stadium: shame about the public transport – none of the local Tube stations have been upgraded as originally promised, plus the nearest train station is closed on match-days! But that would not have worried France’s first celeb couple as they were wafted to north London in a motorcade-accompanied limo.

I suspect, however, Nick and Carla did share a snigger behind well-manicured hands when they heard of T5’s travails. Of course we British don’t do grands projects as well as the French with their TGVs. And thank God for that. The TGVs are great, but much of the rest of the French rail system has been starved and has uncomfortable echoes of British Rail in the ‘70s. The true cost of the TGV has also been lost in opaque French state public accounting, but is generally accepted to be vastly in excess of the published figure. Personally, I always find it comforting to know that my TGV trip is being subsidised by some cassoulet gobbling Citroen worker.

But I digress. The T5 crisis in so many ways epitomises New Labour Britain. Promise a lot: deliver f**k all. “We will be the servants, not the masters”. Remember that? And “we will be whiter than white”?  For more than a decade, Brown, Blair and their publicly funded PR boys have been trumpeting how great Britain has become since 1997. Now, our true economic performance is about to be laid bare – private and public over-borrowing has disguised a steady loss of competitiveness.

Try getting through immigration with a British passport

But T5 is not really the problem. If you want to see how comprehensively this government misses the point, try getting through immigration with a British passport. I have landed in Britain three times in recent months to be met by a massive new sign, emblazoned with the words ‘UK Border’, and serried ranks of immigration officers in crinkly new uniforms.

On all three occasions, there were many more desks available to non-EU travellers and no queues. But the UK and EU channels had only two or three desks and all the time the line stretched almost back to the gate.

At Gatwick, a sort of fat-controller sat on a podium picking his nose, observing the chaos and doing nothing until passengers began shouting at him – then, magically, several desks were switched to EU and UK passengers and the queue melted.

It used to be one of the great glories of being British that when you returned home, the immigration officer wore an old Pringle golfing sweater. Now, it’s like coming back to a sort of nylon-clad Ruritania.    

Only fetishists, inadequates and children really get off on uniforms.  

But there’s more. A government task-forced – led by old Tory/new Labour Quentin Davies no less – is proposing that off-duty soldiers should wear uniform “to reassure the public.”

The last time that was allowed was under Oliver Cromwell – not our finest hour. Charles II abolished the practice and the ban on military uniforms in public has remained more or less in force during peacetime ever since. That is another glory of being British. Not to have loads of over-bearing people in uniform knocking about the place.

The number of uniforms on display in a given country tends to be inversely proportionate to that country’s quality of life. Only fetishists, inadequates and children really get off on uniforms.  

So, identity cards, huge signs at the borders, uniforms everywhere, terminal incompetence – what’s all that sign of?

Answer – crap country with over-powerful government.  

Phillip Oppenheim