Steerpike

Nick Robinson came under attack last week after quoting a government source’s description of the Woolwich bombers’ appearance. Writing in tomorrow’s Spectator, Robinson recalls the storm: ‘A glance at Twitter revealed, however, that those words — despite being a quote — had outraged some who thought they revealed a prejudice that all Muslims look the same. One witty tweet asked if the man playing at Wembley in Bayern Munich’s no. 7 shirt looked Muslim. Franck Ribéry is French, he’s white and he’s Muslim.

Welcome, Sally Bercow, to the naughtiest club in town: the Libel Club. The colourful Mrs Bercow has often got it in the neck from the press; what with her demimondaine ways and penchant for wearing bed clothes. But few things can endear one more to Grub Street than being found guilty of libel. Sally is covered in ordure at present, while weathering some dismal ‘innocent face’ banter from all and sundry. But, once the schadenfreude has abated and the damages paid, Fleet Street's libel reformers may adopt her case for their cause. Stranger things have happened. Indeed, there is already rumbling on the wires.

Lord Bell opened the summer party season last night, with martinis on the back lawn of Lancaster House. It was a reception for the marriage of money and power. Norman Lamont and Peter Lilley were happy to chin-wag with old friends and campaigners. But the government’s big hitters are obviously wary of rubbing shoulders with lobbyists at present; Michael Fallon was the most senior minister I saw. I did, however, notice James Wharton, Tory-boy of the moment. Wharton topped the Private Members’ Bill ballot last week, and he may yet turn the Tory EU referendum promise into law. The man’s going places, apparently. I asked him if he was enjoying his new-found fame and the interest of our national media. ‘No, not really,’ he sniffed, grumpily.

Sir David Tang and friends packed out the Dorchester Hotel last night to taste Johnnie Walker Blue Label. I last tasted Blue Label in an airport departure lounge, where the expensive tipple is ubiquitous. Old Mr Steerpike has a bottle on the go, which he uses from time-to-time to top-up his favourite 50-year-old malt. The sight of a near-full bottle of that particular treat on the sideboard warms the heart on a cold night. Still, the evening was not without incident. Ben Elliot, co-founder of Quintessentially, revealed that he has been taken on to fundraise for the Thatcher legacy project. They want to build a permanent museum in her honour.

‘Red Ed’ invited the great and good of the media into his Westminster den for hummus and natter last night. No one knew what they were celebrating. Poor local election results? His rescue of a cyclist? Christmas? Who cares; no hack ever passed up a free drink. Ed glided through the room, flirting with friend and foe in an easy manner that does not translate to television. And, unlike Cameron and Clegg, Ed is not one for an early bed. He stayed right to the bitter end, even after the wine and beer had dried up, just as he did at last year's Spectator summer bash. Incidentally, the Labour leader has a soft spot for The Spectator. There, on his is desk, in pride of place, was our Parliamentarian Award.

Michael Gove likes to make mischief. Every so often he stokes London’s liberal elite into fits of righteous indignation. If he does this out of pure joy, then his latest caper will not have disappointed. This afternoon the education secretary gave a speech to private school headmasters in which he made an important point about the quality of children’s education: ‘I suspect that all of us who are parents would be delighted if our children were learning to love George Eliot, write their own computer programmes, daring to take themselves out of their comfort zone and aspiring to be faster, higher or stronger.’ But Gove couldn’t resist teasing his pious critics: ‘Unless, of course, we write for Guardian Education.

Last week I chided those in SW1 who were criticising David Cameron for appointing yet more Old Etonians to his staff without first checking their own teams for signs of blue blood. Now news reaches me that Downing Street has not done much to counter the original charge. Etonian stereotypes were alive and well during Jo Johnson’s first meeting with the government’s special advisers. A humble state educated aide could not help but notice that all the OEs gravitated to one side of the table. ‘Jo Jo’ was joined by Cameron’s chief-of-staff Ed Llewellyn. And when Rupert Harrison, the chancellor’s brain, entered the room, he was drawn to the ‘right side’. It was almost a school reunion.