The Publicus Party

Lots of talk today about changing the voting system and making Parliament so transparent that we’ll soon know the most intimate secrets of our MPs. And the most common reason given? People have lost faith in politics because of the expenses scandal and an archaic voting system- so the argument goes.

Well I say that’s tosh. A survey released the other day showed a steadily declining number of people who saw voting as a civic duty, over a number of years. Bottom line- fewer and fewer of us feel obligated to participate.

And why is this?

The truth is that we no longer get new ideas from anyone. It’s not that they sometimes lie (we knew that) or that they sometimes don’t answer the question (we knew that too), it’s that they have become so monotonous, so identikit that they have simply failed to inspire us.

They seem to think they’re like the ‘compare the market/ compare the meerkat’ adverts- superficially the same but at root quite different.

Actually, they’re more like the Chuckle Brothers. And as annoying too.

Apparently the PM shed a tear during his interview with Piers Morgan, due to be aired next weekend. Alastair Campbell was also at it, taking a lip quiver of a pause during a bout of pretty mild questioning from Andrew Marr. And that got me thinking, am I missing a trick? Should I be bearing my soul on TV? Is it now expected of every politician?

I asked my spin doctor, Gary for his verdict….

From: Leonard Cartwright
To: Gary Joseph
Date: Monday 8th February 2010 09:34
Subject: Crying

Gary,

I was thinking, in my next interview, maybe I should find a moment to strategically cry? Could be a winner with a British public who are growing increasingly wet and soppy.

LC

From: Gary Joseph
To: Leonard Cartwright
Date: Monday 8th February 2010 09:56
Subject: RE: Crying

Leonard,

Firstly, try not to think too much. It only leads to complications which I inevitably have to deal with.

Secondly, no I don’t think you should cry- strategically or otherwise. Principally this is because you have no emotions to speak of. In my opinion you would end up looking like you had hemorrhoids.

Also, what would you cry about? The time you met Maggie Thatcher and she remembered your name doesn’t really count in the eyes of most voters.

And the time you gave yourself a papercut probably wouldn’t work either.

Yours ever,
Gary

Apparently our dear leader and much-loved Prime Minister has told the Evening Standard that Tony Blair will play a ‘major role’ during Labour’s election campaign.

Well, that would be the obvious inference from this quote;

“Tony has a major role to play in the election”

Now most people would take the Prime Minister at his word at this point and stop writing (and thinking). However, I read the rest of his quote and detected something quite different.

Let me explain;

“Tony has a major role to play in the election. We are party that is renewing itself after ten very successful years.”

This is what is now a widely acknowledged occurrence; Brown’s ability to give a clear statement that he then goes on to directly contradict in thought and deed.

“I think you will find Tony Blair has a role,”

The backtrack begins, with the omission of the word ‘major’ and the defensive tone. Brown is particularly good at answering a straight question as if he has been accused of murder.

“I think you will find that many people in Labour who are no longer in Government but who have been part of the ‘project’ for years will have a role.”

Backtrack continues. As his Scottish mind whirs, he realises that his initial statement made it sound like Blair would be star of the show. Obviously, he couldn’t have that. So he puts Blair on the same level as Alastair Campbell et al. Nice.

“Tony will have to explain, when he wishes, what he can do.”

And there we have it. Within three sentences he has completely shot down his original statement. Surely, if Blair was to play a ‘major role’, the precise nature of that role would have already been worked out? Instead, he will ‘have to explain, when he wishes, what he can do’. Not exactly a ringing endorsement is it?

On the day when most MPs are crawling over themselves to self flagellate, one esteemed member stands alone, quenching my thirst with some much-needed independent, rational and downright sound refreshment;

“I think the whole report has been unsatisfactory. It was important that it be accurate, and I’m afraid that Legg in so many cases wasn’t. Everybody has been tarnished. The frontbenchers were pretty well forbidden from putting in appeals because the leaders were in competition to wear the hairiest shirt.”

“Everybody in the land, whether high or low, is entitled to proper justice and just as I fought for it on behalf of constituents for 23 years so now have I taken up the cudgel on behalf of MPs.”

So I stroll up to a door last night, leaflets underhand. I deliver a loud and steady knock. A young man answers the door, with the kind of dead look behind the eyes that is so common among our youth. In fact, he had such a expressionless face I would not be surprised if Stephen Fry told me such a feat actually requires the use of more facial muscles.

I say, “Good evening young man, are your parents home?” He stares at me blankly, before someone from the bowels of the residence shrieks; “Who is it?” He continues to offer nothing by way of facial recognition. So I, kind spirit I am, offer him a life raft; “Tell her I’m here to talk to her about the election.”

He turns his head and yells; “Politician!”

The yell bounces back; “It’s about bloody time!” Before I know it, a whale of a woman is bounding towards me waving a sheet of paper. Before I can gather my senses, she has launched into a tirade about how we’re all crooks, liars and how I should be locked up for having the temerity to ask for her vote. She then presents the sheet of paper to me and asks for her money back. The paper is an invoice she has purposefully prepared for just such an encounter as this. It had a neat breakdown of some of the more tasty expense claims.

I calmly studied the sheet, before looking up at her and saying; “My dear, think what you will of the rest- but I am worth every penny.”

Starting your own party is certainly an uphill struggle. There’s a lot more legwork to do, and without the benefit of a generous councillor’s allowance I have to work that little bit harder for votes. So I spend most evenings on the doorstep, talking to people and trying to persuade them to give the Publicus Party a shot.

And of course, the Great British Public never cease to amaze me with their…unique attributes. And who am I to deny this insight to a wider audience?

Last night it was a bit cold, so I stayed in and did some telephone canvassing instead. My wife, Susan, made lasagna and my spin doctor Gary (who was staying over after a row with his girlfriend) hit the phones.

On one call, it rings and rings. Finally, someone picks up. ‘Hello, I’m Leonard Cartwright and I’d like to ask you how you intend to vote’, I said. ‘What?’ came the reply. So I tried again. ‘What?’ came the reply again. I tried a third time. ‘Sorry love, I’m deaf’, line goes dead.

Now, that was either an inventive way of getting rid of me, or she really was deaf.

In which case, why have a bloody phone?