Sex, ridicule and Mr Prescott

The popular poet, Pam Ayres, described by the Daily Telegraph as “supplier of comic verse to Middle England for almost three decades”, has written an ode for the Deputy Prime Minister.

Entitled I am ready, Mr Prescott, it begins:

I am ready Mr Prescott
You can take me in your arms
All these years I’ve waited,
To experience your charms,
So fling aside those trousers,
I hope they’re quick release,
For all that hanky panky’s
Made you clinically obese.

What Prescott has discovered (and Blair is about to) is that there is nothing so corrosive as ridicule for a minister (or indeed any other authority figure).

A case in point is the speed with which the moral authority of the Irish bishops dissolved after it was revealed that Eamon Casey, the Bishop of Galway, had sired a son with his lover, Annie Murphy, many years earlier. But it wasn’t the fact of his paternity that did for Casey, but the revelation that he and Annie had done it in the back of a Lancia! There is something irresistibly comic about the thought of a Prince of the Church humping on the rear seat of an Italian saloon.

Much the same happened to the South African racist thug Eugene Terreblanche, who never recovered from transmission of the video footage of his hairy bum rising and falling in an erotic rhythm. Mae West said that “sex is very bad for one, but great for two”, which is true. But if anyone else gets in on the act, then there’s usually trouble. The problem with it, as the Earl of Chesterfield famously observed — and the Deputy Prime Minister is now discovering — is that “the pleasure is momentary, the position ridiculous, and the expense damnable”.

Prescott’s bonanza

John Prescott arrived at 7.45am. He left just before 11am, looking cheerful – and no wonder, for he had expected to lose his job, but has held on to his title, his car, his driver and his country house (with croquet lawn) while shedding his entire work load. Lottery jackpot winners have settled for less.

Simon Hoggart, writing in today’s Guardian

Creative swarms

AN interesting new way of financing film-making

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Britain’s Deputy Prime Predator

John Prescott has been stripped of his departmental responsibilities, but he keeps his Cabinet place (and the accompanying salary), as well as various perks (such as two Grace & Favour houses). Given the allegations that emerged over the weekend about his behaviour towards a female subordinate, this is astonishing.

What’s even more astonishing is the way the media have swallowed the government line that his sexual misdemeanours are a private matter. If he were the CEO of a public company, then his sexual harassment of a subordinate would already have led to his departure — if only because a juicy lawsuit would be imminent. But he continues as the UK’s Deputy PM. All of which makes Catherine Bennett’s icy column worth reading. Sample:

Miraculous to relate, Tony Blair, Alastair Campbell and a host of columnists appear, for once, to agree on something. John Prescott’s use of a secretary for sexual purposes was “a private matter”.

If, as seems likely, this view prevails, when Blair next takes a holiday this country will be led by a man we have long known to be a violent, inarticulate oaf and now know to be a violent, inarticulate, sexually predatory oaf. At least no one could call us elitist.

How will it be for the women secretaries, civil servants and political colleagues who must continue to work alongside him? Fine, perhaps, when they remember the prime minister’s assurance that this is a private matter. Simply because Prescott assigned his secretary various challenging sexual tasks, and is alleged to have attempted the molestation of at least one other woman, that is no reason to suppose he will lift up the skirt of Tessa Jowell, or look down the front of Margaret Hodge, or harass other senior women who do not appeal to him, or talk dirty to them at staff parties, or turn his assessing gaze on their cleavage, speculating on the kind of underwear that might be supporting it. That is something he only does to his juniors. In private…

There’s more…

Luminaries of New Labour, that most enlightened hammer of sexual and all other forms of discrimination, are defending a man whose lewd approaches to a junior colleague – it will be obvious to almost any other employer or employee in the land – should make him a candidate for immediate suspension. Not to mention an enormous compensation claim on the part of his secretary. A private matter? In a lap-dancing club, perhaps. But this was the civil service. Aside from the choice of locations, a sexual connection this rudimentary, bereft of any romantic trimmings, so closely resembles unpaid prostitution that, given Prescott’s public position, the abuse of power more than justifies the public interest. At what point, during this administration, was the propositioning, at work, of subordinates, redefined as an irrelevant and entirely personal peccadillo?

Great stuff.

That Cabinet reshuffle

The media consensus is that Blair’s last-ditch reshuffle of his Cabinet was “brutal”, and so indeed it was. Two days ago, for example, he refused to accept Charles Clarke’s offer to resign; today he sacked him. But for me the really interesting aspect of the reshuffle is the way it has brought to the fore young Blair loyalists like David Miliband and Alan Johnson. Regular readers will remember that some time ago I surmised that Blair doesn’t want Gordon Brown to succeed him and is therefore trying to ensure that there is a credible younger candidate in place to challenge the Chancellor when the time eventually comes for him (Blair) to stand down.

One way of reading today’s reshuffle is that it has been designed with that objective in mind. And to be fair to Blair (though I have no desire to be), he might be motivated by something other than spite. He may want Labour to continue in power after he’s gone, and suspects that only a younger man stands a chance of defeating the new bicycling Tory leader.

Later: Then there’s the interesting question of why Jack Straw was demoted? I was puzzled by this — he seemed to be doing ok, relatively speaking. But Ewen MacAskill has has sussed it: Straw said a military strike against Iran was inconceivable. Blair thinks differently. So Straw had to go. Ye Gods!

The naked interviewer

From BBC Political Editor Nick Robinson’s excellent Blog, on his interview with the sacked Home Secretary, Charles Clarke…

I’ve often interviewed resigning ministers, but this was amongst the bizarrest. When I was called to be told the news, I was naked in bed in a Westminster hotel hoping to get at least an hour’s sleep, having stayed up all night covering the local elections. The interesting discovery I’ve made is that you can go from being in bed to attending a resignation statement in exactly seven minutes.

Er, bizarrest???

Summertime 1

Our crab-apple tree has done its stuff. I know I shouldn’t be amazed by it, but I always am. And gratified. It always summons up memories of Sue, whose pride and joy it was, and who loved with a special passion the magical day every year when it would explode into blossom. And I remember how anguished we both were this time in 2002, when we gazed at it with the same unspoken thought: would this be the last time she saw it happen? It was. C’est la vie…

Quote of the day

From MercuryNews.com

Microsoft co-founder Bill Gates told an online advertising conference Wednesday that he’d prefer not to be the richest person in the world.

“I wish I wasn’t,” he said in a session in which he was being interviewed by Donny Deutsch, the host of an interview show on CNBC.

Gates is ranked by Forbes magazine as the world’s richest individual, with an estimated wealth of about $50 billion.

“There’s nothing good that comes out of that,” he said. “You get more visibility as a result of it.”

Monotonic dates

Useless but interesting… Just noticed that today’s date is 04.05.06

Later: Lots of nice emails about this. Sean French wrote:

I’m afraid I can outdo you in trainspotteringness. If you’d set your alarm clock last night for three seconds past 1.02am you could have been awake when it was 01.02.03.04.05.06.

And James Cridland was actually awake at that magic moment:

I was listening to the radio this morning just after one o’clock. The exact time?

01.02 03″ 04/05/06

Virgin’s Robin Burke rather ominously played “The Final Countdown”: but the world hasn’t ended quite yet: possibly to Tony Blair’s irritation.