It has become commonplace to compare the frenzied events of the past few weeks to Armando Iannucci’s TV comedy The Thick of It. And there is a resemblance – the real-life politicians involved have all the malice and incompetence of Iannucci’s characters. But they have none of the sulphurous wit.
What I couldn’t help remembering was the scene in which two advisers, Glenn Cullen and Olly Reeder, are desperately trying to come up with a policy initiative. Glenn says: “What we need is something that the public want, is incredibly popular and is free.” Olly replies: “Return of capital punishment.”
Now that referendums have become so fashionable in British politics, I couldn’t help wondering about the outcome of some future referendum on bringing back the rope. Unthinkable? So was Brexit until a short while ago. And Theresa May’s government might need something to distract the barmy army of leave voters from the continued absence of that weekly £350m boost to the NHS budget they were promised.
Could it be that the ghosts of Cullen and Reeder will return to haunt us with ways of selling us this most modern and exciting policy initiative?
A legal headache
There is nothing glamorous about alcohol abuse, though there is a certain salutary black-comic horror in the nightmare of a hangover. Kingsley Amis conjured up a famous one in Lucky Jim; so did Tom Wolfe in The Bonfire of the Vanities.
Part of the ordeal of the hangover is not admitting to other people that you have one, in trying to keep up appearances at work the next day. So you have to be impressed by the brazen candour of Marco Pierre White Jr, who was unable to give evidence against his mother, Matilde – who was cleared of assault charges – because he was “too hungover”.
I’m sure the judge and all the clerks of the court will have been very understanding. Too hungover! Fair enough, mate, that’s fine, nice one.
Adam McKay’s Funny or Die website once devised a surreal version of The Hunger Games called The Hung-over Games, in which the contestants had to fight for their lives having drunk 13 vodkas the night before. Perhaps we can have a reality show for the Pierre Whites, in which they have to settle family disputes 24 hours after an exuberant evening on the town.
Unlucky woman catches Crabb sexting
One of the quirks of the news is that very often a celebrity death will eclipse the death of a lesser celebrity on the same day. The Kennedy assassination meant that few people cared about the passing of CS Lewis and Aldous Huxley. The loss of Michael Jackson coincided with that of Farrah Fawcett. And the spectacular death of Andrea Leadsom’s hopes of political greatness overshadowed those of one-time Tory leadership contender Stephen Crabb, a committed Christian and opponent of same-sex marriage, who has been caught sexting.
In a less action-packed period, Crabb’s shenanigans would have taken up many column inches. But no one has really been paying attention to the fact that he sent sexually charged texts to a woman to whom he was not married.
There is a brilliant documentary on release about the New York politician Anthony Weiner, who has also been addicted to the illicit thrill of sexting. Both seem to have fallen prey to the apparent safe-sex aspect of this activity, apparently unaware that it creates a documentary proof-archive of your misdemeanours. But attention spans and memories are short right now. Like texts and sexts, Crabb’s wrongdoing might yet be deleted.
