Features

‘I’m not an ambassador for New Labour, I’m an MP’

When I came to play back the recording of my recent interview with Bob Marshall-Andrews, the serially rebellious Labour MP for Medway, for a second or two my blood ran cold. As I remembered it, while I’d been drawing him we’d had a wide-ranging conversation about Blair, Brown, socialism, globalisation, MPs’ allowances, the constitution, the judiciary, the media and society at large. But instead of all that my tape started halfway through a long, rambling and very funny anecdote about a hotel where Marshall-Andrews had once stayed in Wales. My contributions, meanwhile, seemed to consist solely of monosyllabic grunts, occasional barks of laughter and increasingly frequent protestations that I must be getting home as I was feeling very ‘tired’.

‘There is nothing saying Labour will ever win power again’

The choice facing the governing party is between defeat and annihilation, says Fraser Nelson. For now, Labour is mired in ‘division without decision’ as Jack Straw, David Miliband and others wait to see who — if anyone — will wield the knife against Gordon Brown The catalpa trees in New Palace Yard are in bloom, a glorious heatwave has struck London. Yet dark despair is curling through the core of the Labour party. From Cabinet level to the rank and file, there is a hardening awareness that for Gordon Brown to fight the next election would be to court disaster. Yet no one can say with confidence how the Prime Minister might be persuaded to leave. Between the two political realities lies an abyss, into which the Labour party may tumble headlong.

The tightrope walk and the terrorists

Sarfraz Manzoor talks to Philippe Petit, whose stunning walk between the Twin Towers in 1974 is the subject of a new film — and discovers the mirror image of the horrors of 9/11 It was one small step, but for Philippe Petit it was to be a giant leap into immortality. The date was 7 August 1974, the location New York City and the 24-year-old Frenchman was standing on the top of one of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center preparing to commit what became known as the artistic crime of the century. Petit, tousle-haired and baby-faced, had been planning this moment for the past six years and now, perched 1,350 feet above the New York streets, he was about to take his first step onto the steel wire he had suspended between the Towers. It was 7.

In Cyprus, warm words conceal dark intentions

Don’t be misled by the notional amicability between North and South, says John Torode. Many Cypriots believe that Turkey is determined to annex the North, with our tacit approval Something is stirring on Aphrodite’s Isle. For the first time since Turkey seized Northern Cyprus in 1974, thousands of Greek and Turkish Cypriots, forcibly segregated for decades, are in amicable daily contact across the great divide. The new president of Cyprus and his unrecognised Turkish-Cypriot opposite number met recently, and actually agreed to start formal peace talks in September. So why are senior politicians on both sides privately warning that a new disaster, as dangerous as the original invasion and partition, is now a real possibility?

Jordan would have raised the tone at the polo

Venetia Thompson says that the pneumatic model — banned from the key enclosures — is no more of a ‘chav’ than the punters who throng at these increasingly vulgar events ‘What would we do/ usually drink, usually dance, usually bubble/All I want to do is tell you I love you/ That’s when I start promising the world to/ A brand new girl I don’t even know yet/ Next thing she’s wearing my Rolex.’ The sun has gone down and thousands of open-neck pale-pink shirts, blazers, Ray-Bans, blonde highlights and surgically enhanced perma-tan breasts bounce along to a surprise performance by UK rapper extraordinaire Wiley, singing his recent hit ‘Wearing my Rolex’. It is well received. Arms are waved in the air.

It is commercial television that is really in peril

Channel 4 can’t afford Carol Vorderman and says it needs more cash for its public service remit. Nonsense, writes Neil Midgley: it is mass-market television that needs help Carol Vorderman has, apparently, become too expensive for Channel 4’s game show Countdown. Gone are the carefree days when Channel 4 could afford to poach Paul O’Grady from ITV to chase teatime ratings. Now, says C4 chief executive Andy Duncan, it can only fulfil its public service remit if someone — most likely Gordon Brown — gives it a new £150 million a year subsidy. Similar bleatings come from senior BBC executives when- ever the future of the licence fee is discussed (despite the fact that the BBC can evidently afford £6 million a year for Jonathan Ross).

‘All local government should be abolished’

It doesn’t matter who’s in charge, says Rod Liddle. Once elected, a localcouncil automatically becomes self-important and incompetent A charity called Help for Heroes, which raises money for wounded British soldiers, asked Portsmouth City Council for a £500 donation towards a proposed ‘fun day’. The council declined the request, saying that to have given money ‘could cause offence to ethnic minority groups living in the community who may also have experience of injury/violence due to the war’. They’re my italics, by the way, not the council’s.

Marking Sats has always been a total fiasco

The Sats disaster is depressing, but I’m afraid that as someone who’s marked them for ten years, it’s not altogether surprising. In the early days of the National Curriculum tests — the Sats — I was a Key Stage 2 Science marker, sworn to Masonic-like secrecy about this mysterious testing process. In my innocence I had expected it to be a straightforward procedure, but I hadn’t allowed for the serial incompetence, the human error, the vagaries of postal deliveries, and most important: the political pressure.

Meet Italy’s answer to Boris

Gianni Alemanno, Rome’s new right-wing mayor, tells John Laughland that it’s time for the Eternal City to adopt a ‘zero tolerance’ approach There are few people, I imagine, who could make Boris Johnson jealous, but Gianni Alemanno is probably one of them. Two days before Boris’s election as Mayor of London, the conservative Alemanno conquered Rome after the Italian Left had held the city for a decade and a half. His victory was part of a dramatic overall national victory for the Italian Right, whose no-nonsense political discourse may now set the tone for European politics as a whole. While Boris governs London from a hideous blob of glass and steel, Alemanno reigns over the Eternal City from an exquisite palace on the Capitoline hill.

Don’t mention the Afghan–Pakistan war

At a recent dinner party in the British embassy in Kabul, one of the guests referred to ‘the Afghan-Pakistan war’. The rest of the table fell silent. This is the truth that dare not speak its name. Even mentioning it in private in the Afghan capital’s green zone is enough to solicit murmurs of disapproval. Few want to accept that the war is widening; that it now involves Pakistan, a country with an unstable government and nuclear weapons. But in fact the military commanders know that they are dealing with far more than just a domestic insurgency. Weapons, men and suicide bombers are flooding in from Pakistan every day. Like it or not, war is being waged on Afghanistan from Pakistan.

‘Make him sit and wait’

The lady in the orange baseball cap is shouting to be heard. It is true that she hasn’t got much choice — the barking has become deafening. ‘You have to teach them to respect you!’ she screams. Owners tug sheepishly at their dogs’ leads and attempt to shush them without appearing to be unworthy of respect. ‘Otherwise they can make your life completely miserable.’ It occurs to me that this is a point that could be made about creatures other than 12-week-old puppies.

Our lazy firemen must make a radical change

Britain’s firefighters are under-worked and inflexible, says Leo McKinstry. It’s time we created a unified emergency service A cooling breeze wafted through the plane trees under the inky-black Provence sky. In the distance, the band played as couples danced. The rural village’s annual summer celebration presented the gentlest of scenes. But suddenly there was a loud crash, followed by a commotion. I looked round to see the aftermath of a nasty accident. An elderly woman, standing near the dance area, had fallen over, badly gashing her mouth and breaking her front teeth. Within minutes, a red emergency vehicle arrived. ‘What use is that? This lady obviously needs an ambulance, not a fire appliance,’ I thought to myself. Then three men jumped out.

If the liberal press is to be believed, nobody has ever been stabbed — ever

An apology to all readers: a couple of weeks ago, in a public-spirited sort of way, I offered advice as to how to go about getting stabbed. Although I hope you will accept that I was well intentioned, the article was clearly deficient and even offensive in two important respects. First, I neglected to explain how one might go about getting stabbed twice — and, since I wrote, the window for that particular opportunity seems to have been closed. Jacqui Smith, the Home Secretary, unveiled an exciting plan to let stabbers loose in hospital accident and emergency wards, where they might joyfully run around stabbing people who are recovering from having already been stabbed by someone else, as part of a rehabilitative process for the stabber.

The Falun Gong show that meek can be provocative

Lloyd Evans joins the dissident movement in a ritual exercise near the Chinese Embassy. He is unsettled to find himself understanding why China’s rulers get so paranoid about them Bong. Up go our hands. Bong. Down come our hands. Bong. We bend our knees. Bong. We crouch down slowly. Bong. We sweep our hands around our feet. Bong. We pass our hands behind our shoulder blades. Bong. We straighten up. Bong. We make hollow fists. Bong. We release the energy. Bong. Up go our hands again. Bong. And down come our hands. And so on. It was a sunny morning in Regent’s Park and I’d joined a circle of Falun Gong practitioners as we indulged in a spot of communal aerobics.

Imagine the terror of the Chinese officials

David Tang reflects on his visits to Beijing in the run-up to the Games, where Western expertise has been harnessed to the ruthless efficiency of China’s government machine Albert Speer was commissioned by the Chinese government to lay out a masterplan for the access to the Olympic Green in Beijing. His design consisted of one impressive avenue connecting the Forbidden City and the National Stadium in which the opening ceremony will take place. Speer is indeed the son of the infamous Albert, chief architect to Hitler and his minister of armaments. Speer Senior had also laid out his signature axis within Hitler’s megalomaniac city ‘Welthaupstadt Germania’ which, thankfully, was never realised.

Big Brother versus YouTube: let the Beijing Games commence

Mark Leonard, Britain’s pre-eminent analyst of modern China, says the Olympic genie is out of the bottle. The prospect of global scrutiny has actually increased repression as the authorities try to stamp out dissent. But digital technology is impossible to police ‘For years we couldn’t wait for the Olympics to start. Now we can’t wait for them to be over.’ That is how a Chinese friend described the horrible limbo in Beijing as a control-freak state tries to anticipate and eliminate any possible challenges to its glorious coming-out party on the 8th of the 8th, 2008.

Nudge, nudge: meet the Cameroons’ new guru

The economist Richard Thaler — a favourite of the Cameron and Obama camps — talks to James Forsyth about the power of ‘nudging’: small transformative acts of persuasion No one likes to be pushed, prodded or shoved. But no one objects to a nudge in the right direction. The idea that people can be nudged into making better choices is the brainchild of Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein, two whip-smart University of Chicago academics. The two professors see nudging as the ‘real third way’, an alternative to both government regulation and laissez-faire liberalism. The idea is the new big thing; the two politicians of the moment — Barack Obama and David Cameron — are both keen on it.

I feel for Ingrid Betancourt — I was kidnapped, too

I was once kidnapped and held hostage by political terrorists in South America. My ordeal only lasted about an hour — but it was rather frightening. Like Ingrid Betancourt, it was partly my own fault for ignoring obvious security advice. Unlike her, I was able to talk my way out of it. It is hard to imagine the six years of continuous terror and abuse this doughty lady experienced at the hands of the Marxist terrorist group, FARC, in Colombia. Her release, in a bold exercise by the Colombian Armed Forces, is, rightly, a matter of universal rejoicing and a triumph for President Uribe.

The web is the most conservative force on Earth

Archiving is not regarded by most people as sexy, glamorous or even interesting. Odd then that most of us, and especially the young, hip and trendy, seem to have become avid archivists without even realising it. My archive, which I keep on the web, and in my computer, mobile phone and iPod, is neither particularly extensive nor interesting: several thousand digital photographs, play-lists of songs, endless dull policy reports, papers and presentations, some internet postings, Facebook friends and connections. Teenagers, however, are archiving their lives as they happen through blog entries and photos taken on camera phones, much of which they organise collaboratively, in semi-public, on the web. We have become a society of mass archiving.

I fell helplessly in love with Christine Hamilton

Scotland had the Macbeths and Romania had the Ceausescus. But while Tony and Cherie made a pretty good stab at it, in the annals of notoriety in British politics no husband and wife team can compare to the Hamiltons. Or at least it seemed like that in 1997, when allegations about cash for questions in brown envelopes catapulted Neil Hamilton, the relatively obscure MP for Tatton, into the eye of the storm about to overwhelm John Major’s government. The decision by the former BBC correspondent Martin Bell, in his white suit, to stand as an ‘anti-sleaze’ candidate in Tatton drove Hamilton’s wife Christine to confront him during a press conference on Knutsford Heath, hurling her into the maelstrom as well, and they duly enjoyed their 15 minutes of infamy.