I blame the scapegoats (3 page)

There
are some cynics who suggest that the Tory leadership contest has failed to grip
the public's imagination; that it might have worked as a one-off show, but a
long-running series was stretching the idea too far. But everywhere else the
British people have been animatedly debating who'd be next to go. Will it be
the gay one, will it be the asset-stripper, will it be the ex-soldier? And then
it all got so confusing that one IOC delegate said he had voted for the 2008
Olympic Games to be held in Kenneth Clarke.

The
Tory Party has an even greater problem looming on the horizon in that the final
decision will be made by its dwindling ancient membership, the majority of whom
are completely mad. These die-hards are still fuming about the fact that back
in the 1970s Britain adopted the duvet and abolished good old English sheets
and blankets. 'British bedding is being dictated by Brussels . . .' they say.
'Continental quilts were introduced without a referendum, and the value of togs
is outside Westminster's control.' They hate foreigners and they hate
homosexuals and these are the very voters to whom Michael Portillo has to
appeal. If they find out his dad was an asylum seeker he's really in trouble.

In
the second ballot Portillo managed a net increase of just one, which is exactly
what the Tories managed at the last election, so it doesn't bode too well.
David Davies has jumped before he was pushed, but he only got this far because
some MPs were under the misapprehension that he was the bloke who used to
present
World of Sport.
Ken
Clarke was doomed from the outset because he would actually increase the appeal
of the Conservative Party and that is the last thing on their mind at the
moment.

They say that the issue of Europe is causing
even deeper division within the Conservative Party than the Repeal of the Corn
Laws, but this isn't too surprising because you hardly ever hear any Tories
talking about the Repeal of the Corn Laws these days. Iain Duncan Smith is the
most anti-European, which is why I think he will get the most votes from those
nutty party members. Having had a disastrous election result under William
Hague, they will decide that what they need now is a bald right-winger.

As someone whose hair is disappearing faster
than the Tories' chances of winning the next election, I know I shouldn't go on
about this bald thing, especially after the last time when it prompted letters
to the
Guardian
from
poor defenceless individuals like the editor of the
Sun.
But in the beauty parade of politics, first impressions
are important. It's always been like this, I'm afraid; when Charlemagne's
grandson became king of France he was immediately dubbed Charles the Bald. And
King Charles went round saying to his advisers, 'Forsooth, do the peasants see
how I have made Gaul strong once more? Do they say, "There goes our king,
Charles the Unifier of the French"?'

'Er, not exactly,
your majesty.'

'Do they call me
"Charles the Architect of the Treaty of Verdun"?'

'Not really, sir. You see, your brilliant
statesmanship and wise counsel just aren't the first thing people notice about
you . . .'

Unless the Tories choose someone with a
fringe, the fringe is where they will remain. Duncan Smith is William Hague
without the moderation and charisma. He is the continuity candidate, a vote for
more of the same. The good thing about this is that if the Conservatives
continue to increase their representation in the House of Commons at the
present rate, they will not achieve a Parliamentary majority until the year
2593. So the very best of luck, Iain, even if that's still far too early for my
liking.

21
July 2001

This
week members of the Welsh Assembly sacked the architect of their new building,
the famous Richard Rogers, due to soaring costs. As they say in Wales, they
'Englished' on the deal. They have decided to go for something cheaper and now
may be forced to buy a 'Welsh Self-Assembly': £79.99 from B & Q Or, even
worse, get Carol Smillie and Handy Andy to throw together a parliament building
over the weekend using some MDF and a bit of crazy-paving.

Many of the building problems were caused by
political constraints. Assembly members insisted that when the scaffolders
shouted offensive remarks at passing women, the same abuse should then be
repeated in Welsh. And there was always the worry that if the Welsh Assembly
building was to be built by an Englishman, it would be burnt down as soon as he
headed back to London. (Actually the 'Sons of Glendower' haven't burnt many
cottages lately - one of them got caught and a furious Glendower had to bail
them out of the youth court in Aberystwyth, saying, 'Just wait till I get you
home.')

Maybe the problem is having the Welsh
Assembly in Wales. If the English Cup Final is held in Cardiff, why not have
the Welsh Assembly in London? Richard Rogers' last great building was the
Millennium Dome. So there are all these Welsh politicians with nowhere to meet,
and a huge empty building in the middle of

Greenwich.
Any day now someone in Whitehall is going to say, 'Are you thinking what I'm
thinking?'

The farce of the new Welsh Assembly building
follows the pattern of recent architectural commissions by national and
regional governments. Portcullis House was beset with scandal and delay. MPs
were furious that the builders took longer than expected to finish the job
-they didn't want any working-class people in Westminster for a moment longer
than was necessary. The estimated cost of the Scottish Parliament has risen
from
£40
million to £109
million, which would have been severely criticized by Scottish Conservatives if
there were any. And another great British Architect, Sir Norman Foster, fell
out with his political clients when he got the commission for the Reichstag in
Berlin. Personally, I was surprised to discover that it had taken the Germans
so long to rebuild the Reichstag after that fire. I suppose it took ages
sorting out the insurance claim. Apparently under 'Cause of Fire' the claimant,
a Mr A. Hitler, had written 'International conspiracy of Bolsheviks and Jewish
bankers', when most people had thought it was just down to some dodgy wiring.
In any case, Nazi Mutual Insurance Ltd must have finally paid up because Sir
Norman finished the job a couple of years ago, only to have the Germans withhold
the final payment till the builders came round and removed that pile of sand
from the drive and finished the little wall at the front.

Every time a new major government building is
commissioned, we end up with a political scandal. It must be a really hard
issue for the tabloids to call. Imagine the extended editorial conferences at
the
Sun
as they agonize over
which side of the fence they should come down on: 'So - politicians spending
millions of pounds of taxpayers' money on their own offices employing the
latest modern architecture. Hmmm, are we for or against this?' and they all
scratch their chins and wonder.

When
we are constructing new centres of government we have to be clear what these
buildings are actually for. The word 'parliament' comes of course from the
French 'parler' which means 'to ask sycophantic planted questions in a
desperate bid for eventual promotion'. The building of great debating chambers
is a throwback to the days when the debates changed things. These days most
decisions are quietly fixed by a couple of civil servants who happen to bump into
each other at the urinals. Maybe in recognition of this fact the centrepiece of
a new parliament building should indeed be the urinals; great marble bowls
could majestically sweep down from the wall containing beautiful hand-carved,
scented disinfectant bars. There could even be the televising of the urinals so
we could hear the crucial discussions of the day.

Of
course by sacking Richard Rogers and showing so little ambition for the new
Assembly, the cheaper new building in Cardiff will probably be a bit of a
toilet anyway. We're lucky to have great architects in this country, and our
centres of government should be exciting and bold statements about the type of
country we are. But the members of the Welsh Assembly are still reeling from
the fact that, shock, horror, a major architectural project has gone up in cost
during construction! Yet this happens every time. And the angry politicians
round on the builders and scream, 'You said you'd be finished by now. You said
it wouldn't cost so much. I can't believe it - you haven't kept any of your
promises.'

And the builders just
shrug and say, 'Well, you started it. . .'

28
July 2001

This
week a survey revealed that the average British chief executive now takes home
half a million a year, not including bonuses, share options and those Post-it
notes that he nicked from the office stationery cupboard. Defenders of the very
rich say that the criticism of these enormous boardroom salaries is based on
envy and class hatred. And they say it as if this is a bad thing.

Boardroom
salaries first soared after the famous Company Directors' Strike back in 1982.
Who can forget those dramatic scenes as an angry mob of pin-striped businessmen
fought pitched battles outside the Stock Exchange? Food convoys were organized
to bring them four-course lunches from L'Escargot. Violence erupted as they got
their chauffeurs to overturn cars. Mounted policeman rushed up to the strikers,
saying, Are you all right there, sir?' After months of bitter struggle a
complex pay settlement was agreed and executive salaries are now decided on the
following criteria: the chairmen say to themselves, 'What's the most outrageous
and exorbitant pay rise I can give myself? Right, I'll have that much then.'

Even companies that are laying off staff
still seem to find the money to pay huge bonuses to the board. A director of
Marks and Spencer's just decided his bonus was the wrong size, so he took it
back and got a bigger one. Last year the chairman of Vodafone took an award of
£13
million. I know it sounds like a lot, but really by the
time you've paid the accountants and the tax man it's actually only around
£12
million. And now the only good causes that are getting
more money from Camelot are the directors' own bank accounts. It leaves you wondering
why these greedy people need so much money. If I was a multi-millionaire, I
wouldn't want much more than I have now. All I'd buy is a nice house with a
bigger garden and that would be it. And I suppose if I've got all that garden I
might as well have a swimming pool in it. And a tennis court, and there could
be, like, a little stream with a bridge and a path that leads down to the
orchard. But apart from that - oh and the cars, and the flat in town and the
villa in Tuscany - my needs would be modest.

There is an unhealthy fascination with the
lifestyles of the super-rich that needs to be countered with some positive
publicity for the people at the other end of the pay scale. As well as
Hello
I,
there should be a magazine called
Wotcha!
in which skint ex-squaddies invite the cameras in to see
their cockroach-infested bed-sit. And the colour supplements should publish a
'Sunday Times Poor List' - 'this week we list Britain's 100 most impoverished
plebs. At number 57 is Fat Degsy of Urine Towers, Rotherham, whose assets
include half an ounce of Old Holborn and a beard. Total value: 34 pence. But
he's still much richer than the couple who've just gone straight in at number
one: congratulations to Neil and Christine Hamilton.'

Just as Britain's poorest have formed an
underclass, so the very rich are excluded from society as an 'overclass'. They
do not use the schools, hospitals, trains or anything else which might involve
the horrors of mixing with ordinary people or, even worse, queuing. These poor
people are outcasts from society; they need all the help and support we can
give them so that they can start to live normal lives once again.

What
is needed is a new windfall tax to be levied on Britain's fat cats. This
suggestion is based purely on economic grounds and is certainly not prompted by
any sort of left-wing bitterness. Anyway, the so-called 'Rich Bastard Tax'
would involve a £10,000 tariff on anything that the newly appointed 'Toff Tsar'
deemed to be 'vulgar, ostentatious or just annoyingly wealthy'. Personalized
number plates would be a good place to start - I don't see why these don't just
all say '2 MUCH MONEY'. There'd be a surcharge for anyone driving a Porsche
with a sticker in the back saying 'My other car's a Porsche'. Second homes
would be another good target, and the tax would be doubled if the owners were
overheard referring to them as 'just a little bolt-hole in the country'. Rolex
watches, automatic garage doors, Moschino handbags, or any clothes bought from
a shop where you have to ring a bell to be let in - all sorts of things would
warrant the extra duty. I'd like to put in a personal plea to surcharge the
owner of that £100,000 cabin cruiser I saw on the Thames that was called
Just
A Whim.