A perfect day for walking; not hot, lightly clouded and a gentle breeze, sparkling rivers marching by our side keeping us on track; we both feel fine as we swing along: a couple of good friends are walking with us who who don’t talk too much and keep us happy company.
We lunched in Bewdley, an antique little town and beautiful in every way. Clearly the local council knows what it’s doing because the centre has not been ripped out and replaced by a small army of matchbox, grey buildings. Nor is the town centre infested with gambling shops, always a sign of poverty and despair.
Since you ask, Tony Blair’s government was the worst ever in a number of ways – incontinent immigration far too fast, ghastly devolution, the war leading to the death of thousands of innocents; last, it was responsible for relaxing the laws regulating “gaming”; thereby turning the UK into the world centre of gambling. I exaggerate not. This last has caused a growing number of crazed addicts and 420 young men‘s suicides at the last count. If you doubt this, watch any sporting event on the telly and count the number of “gaming” advertisements seeking to entice the vulnerable to squander their bits of money in a sea of debt. All thanks to Blair’s tame buffoon, John Prescott. What a glorious legacy.
As it’s a bank holiday, the crowds of the vaping and heroically tattooed are everywhere. I was always taught to serve others, but what the others are for has always been somewhat of an unsolved mystery.
All Hail the Beeb
I was brought up to think that God must be an Englishman and that anyone who was English had won the lottery of life. My parents taught me that our empire was beyond criticism and that its efficient handling of all our affairs made us innately superior.
Later, I learned that things are more complicated than this. Just because our armed forces perform Trooping the Colour brilliantly doesn’t mean the UK has a monopoly on talent or virtue. And then of course, our empire had – to say the least – some serious blemishes!
To be frank, the nature of any UK exceptionalism is very hard to define. It’s not our monarchy, for six other countries in Europe have monarchs, and it’s not the past glories of British rule, for although we had a vast empire (now much reviled), so did others. Then it’s not the war, for although Britain wasn’t invaded or conquered during the Second World War, we certainly didn’t win the war alone. And it’s not George Orwell’s picture of Sunday cricket on the village green, warm beer and ladies cycling to communion on misty mornings. (Let’s face it, today it’s more a case of people leaping out of the path of demon cyclists!)
The UK today is a different country, rapidly changing and confronting a dangerous and uncertain world. It’s a middle-ranking country, fraught with economic problems, and, after Brexit, facing an uncharted future.
However, David Dimbleby reminded me that we do have one exceptional feature and that’s the BBC. As the Capitol riots in Washington made clear, once a country stops believing in a common set of facts, democracy itself is placed at risk. Facing down distortions, lies, fake news and sheer prejudice, the BBC – with all its manifest flaws – is a unique bastion of objectivity and impartiality, whose only ambition is to serve its audience. It is trusted by half a billion people worldwide. Now, that’s exceptional – it needs funding properly and it’s worth fighting for.
Extra-Mural Activities
Why do those in public life hazard their careers with extra-mural sex?
Many of you will recall Christine Keeler, the 19-year-old model who destroyed the career of Minister for War, John Profumo, and shook the foundations of the Macmillan government. Then there’s Lord Lampton, a minister in Heath’s government, who was caught cavorting with call girl Norma Levy, and Jeffrey Archer, deputy chairman of the Conservative party during Thatcher’s reign, who lied about his liaison with hooker Monica Coghlan.
The list is long – do you recall Cecil Parkinson and Sara Keays, David Mellor and Antonia de Sancha, Jeremy Thorpe and Norman Scott, and John Prescott and Tracey Temple? Then, let’s not forget the sad fall of Air Vice Marshal Peter John Harding, who was brought down by the kiss-and-tell revelations of “Lady” Bienvenida Buck.
The sad roll call trails on to the general entertainment of everyone – except, of course, to those directly involved, whose relationships, careers and reputations are cruelly destroyed.
Why do famous people take such risks knowing that exposure will spell ruin? Of course, it’s complicated. My theory is that politicians are usually on the debit side of the good-looks ledger yet remain irredeemably vain. It’s a case of, “Wow! She seems to have spotted something in me that no one else has” – and so I fall like Lucifer for the first person who puts a hand on my knee.
But why? Leaders must exercise iron self-control to get to the top. As a result, successful people live with vast pressure. They must be supremely self-controlled, always watching what they say and do. However, their free-bird instincts are always there, waiting for the chance to fly from this bleak cage of self-denial.
And then comes the chance to naughtily nibble from the sweet, forbidden fruit. Suddenly, they are transported away to a private place, far from the world of groundhog days and tedious discussions with boring and often angry people. What a relief to bask uninhibited on their own private island of pleasure, released from the burden of family responsibilities or the need for crushing respectability, and free to become a different person – if only for a short time.
Of course, I am not condoning such behaviour, but it’s useful to understand the cause. It’s very stupid to put oneself in a vulnerable position and the discovery of affairs causes immense hurt. It leads to loss of work, a breakdown of trust and often the breaking up of the family unit.
So, dear ZANE donor, have you ever felt under such pressure? If not, do you gleefully condemn people whose lives have been destroyed? Does such exposure make us feel better about our own secret weaknesses?
Perhaps you recall the Biblical story about the woman caught in adultery – and Jesus’s response: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her”.