Unless you’ve been living somewhere civilised, you will have noticed that Britain’s political class has long nursed a massive hard-on for all things American. Indeed, over the past couple of decades, it has lovingly assembled tribute acts to almost every aspect of Earth’s most enviable democracy.
There was the excruciating faux West Wingery of the Blair government, whose nadir came when the PM’s self-styled chief of staff Jonathan Powell actually invited the actor John Spencer to Downing Street. Mr Spencer played President Bartlet’s chief of staff in the Aaron Sorkin drama, you see, and superfan Mr Powell appeared to crave some sort of bilateral.
Committee-wise, the Americans have their blockbusting Senate interrogations; we have Keith Vaz summoning Amy Winehouse’s dad to give his expert views on drug policy or something. And never say we are a country without any history, because, since 2010, we’ve had not just our wan TV election debates, but a sort of ITV daytime drama version of America’s spin alley, which permits the likes of Jeremy Hunt to swan about backstage in some draughty Victorian conference hall, imagining for all the world that he’s Lee Atwater.
Until now, however, what we have really lacked is an equivalent to Barbra Streisand, that serial endorser of Democratic hopefuls, whose imprimatur on any candidate is akin to handing them a battery-acid daiquiri and watching them wither before your eyes.
A rollcall of Barbra’s kisses of death down the years would be too lengthy to explore in full here, though standout moments would surely include the 2004 benefit concert at which she sang You Don’t Bring Me Flowers to John Kerry. How Kerry’s campaign chief didn’t resign in shame at that moment is beyond me. What was he waiting for? The candidate to cover Imagine and give the proceeds to gun control? Bin Laden to come on for the second chorus? People will tell you that Kerry conceded to George Bush at around 11 o’clock on the morning after the election. He didn’t: he did it the second he failed to so much as cringe during Barbra’s encore that night: a sledgehammer political parody of People. “Now Rumsfeld / We must get rid of Rumsfeld / He’s the spookiest person in the world. Let’s discuss this war we’re lost in / Don’t ask what it’s costin’ / What’s a trillion or two to rule the world?”
Then, of course, there was that splashy Hillary nomination in 2007. “We would’ve low-keyed it,” one of Barbra’s associates lied at the time. “But the campaign says it’s a net plus. They polled it. Among Democratic primary voters, even in places like Iowa, they love Barbra. By the way, she just sold out concert tours around the world.”
Well, of course she did – and what price a farewell? (Around a grand a seat in the stalls, for what it’s worth. Still, if you couldn’t afford it last time there will always be another one to save up for.)
Anyway, the good news – for everyone except perhaps Jeremy Corbyn – is that we lack a Streisand manqué no longer. Step forward Russell Brand, who has this week come out for Corbyn in a move critics are already calling his finest since he plonked Ed Miliband in front of his brushed-chrome kitchen spray tap and explained that nothing “had meaningfully occurred” since suffrage.
That encounter was widely nicknamed Milibrand – this column demands that Russell is now formally upgraded to Streisbrand. Either way, it’s great to see Russell back on the horse again, so soon after he rewrote every law of psephology by not turning his 10 million Twitter followers into 10m votes for Miliband. Even he can’t derail Corbyn’s march to the leadership, of course, but it is the next general election to which Russell is looking forward, albeit opaquely.
“The fear would be,” he declared, “can party politics ever impact the will of the people?” At the time of going to press, I had yet to hear back from Bletchley Park on that one, but when I get to the bottom of it, so will you.
In the meantime, we can’t conclude without commenting on a possible instance of synchronicity. The Milibrand encounter, you may recall, gave a special and lengthy focus to the many iniquities of News Corp boss Rupert Murdoch. “There’s no love lost between him and me,” explained Russell to Ed, appearing to imagine he even placed on Murdoch’s shitlist.
But you know what? Maybe some things are bigger than the both of them. Maybe adversaries do sometimes come together for the common good, because this week Murdoch has also broken his silence on the Labour leadership race. “Corbyn increasingly likely Labour winner,” he sensationally revealed. “Seems only candidate who believes anything, right or wrong.” Awwww. Lost in Showbiz knows you’re on a very slippery slope indeed when you start quoting random Twitter users, but the one who said of Murdoch “perhaps he has grown a conscience” is a new personal favourite.
Whether Jeremy’s campaign strategists regard Rupert or Russell’s backing as more significant is hard to say – but let no one dare to deny he is “unifying” and “inclusive” after this double coup.
