The cover story of the 1 July 1984 issue of the Observer Magazine is ‘99 Reasons Why Britain Is Best’, saving one for the readers. ‘What would be your 100th item?’ it asked. Peter Kellner introduces what he candidly refers to as ‘a random and subjective selection of reasons’. There’s a similar honesty, or in retrospect complacency, in admitting the list ‘comprises the collective, mainly white, middle-class, London-based wisdom of people who happened to wander in and out of the office while the feature was being prepared’.
HP Sauce. Tube map. Smarties. Mini. Seaside. Lawn bowls. National Parks. Fish and chips. London taxis. Pubs. Sunday papers. Marmalade. Jumble sales. Satchels. M&S. Torvill and Dean. Libraries. Buses. Follies. Marmite. Hovercraft. Gnomes… wait, gnomes? And Woodbines. ‘Forbidden first behind the gymnasium.’
There’s a picture of a jolly-looking Michael Fish in front of his weather map captioned ‘Weather. A national obsession with worldwide renown’ three years before he was felled by the great storm of 1987. And talking of hostages to fortune, Sir Clive Sinclair is hailed as ‘the technical wizard who helped develop Britain’s first mass market for home computers’ – six months before the arrival of his C5.
In a similar vein, there is the new Thames barrier: ‘The GLC may sink, but London certainly won’t.’ They were right about the GLC, which Thatcher put paid to two years later, and let’s hope they were right about the capital not flooding now that global warming is, er, a hotter issue.
But, quelle horreur! What’s this? ‘Passport. Prestigious, hard-backed blue number soon to be replaced.’ Were the hacks then really so very enamoured with it that they considered it a reason to live in Britain?
Odder still is the choice of ‘floral clock’, demonstrating, apparently, ‘both our weakness for horticultural kitsch and our sense of civic pride’. Or, just perhaps, it was a suggestion made after a long liquid lunch shortly before deadline when they were stuck at 98.
My 100th item from 1984? Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Well, I was 13 at the time.
