Back to HOMEPAGE Gordon Brown survives another day on
purple rhetoric and a few porkies
Ann Treneman
Parliamentary sketch: The Times
Filed 05 Jun 09
©Ann Treneman
This article was originally published in The Times on 6th June 2009.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of its author and of the newspaper
Knackered. Nervous. Determined. A bit punch-drunk. The man who many thought wouldn’t last the day as our Prime Minister emerged at 4.45pm yesterday, at his reshuffle press conference, with that strange smile plastered to his face.
“I’m here to be totally candid, to accept my responsibility and to set out what I intend to do,” he announced.
Well, if that is candid, then I’d hate to see shifty. There were even a few blatant porkies in there, such as when he claimed he never, ever wanted to move Alistair Darling as Chancellor. To that, many would say just one word: “Balls.”
So he’s taking responsibility but, then, as he explained, it’s not his fault. It’s a global crisis. It’s an expenses’ crisis. He’s the answer, not the problem. His face had a strange patina and at times he rocked to and fro, his arms flapping. But then, I reminded myself, he’d been in the bunker for way too long.
His tie was bright purple, his rhetoric equally so. At times he appeared to be speaking in some sort of haiku-inspired verse.
“I have faith in doing my duty.
“This is who I am.
“I believe in never walking away.
“This is what I stand for.
“I have the determination . . .
“This is what I am doing!”
I halfway expected him to grab a microphone and start booming out My Way. Actually, in addition to Frank Sinatra, he seemed to be channelling Churchill (it is the eve of D-Day after all). “Yes, it was a tough night. But we fight on for what we believe. I will not waver. I will not walk away. I will get on with the job. And I will finish the work!”
I could see James Purnell hurling his shoe at the television. Watching Gordon perform, I was amazed that anyone ever thought he’d leave: the man would nail himself to No 10 if he had to. Indeed, his belief in himself is a bit Messianic. It soon became clear he will stop at nothing. He’s even taking his new Defence Secretary, Bob Ainsworth, to today’s D-Day events. The Queen can’t go, but Boring Bob can. Surely those soldiers have suffered enough already.
Outside Downing Street, it had been a duck of a day, calm on the surface, frantically paddling below. The political paparazzi who live there, across from that gleaming black door, had nothing to do other than watch the begonias grow and interview the delicate flower that is Peter Mandelson, who has, surprise, surprise, organised a promotion for himself. (The acronym for his new department is D’Bis, pronounced The Biz.) News of the reshuffle came in dribs and drabs through the rolling news channels. Resignations and appointments merged into one. Hain is back, Hutton and Hoon out. (Forget the number of women, what about the number of Hs in the Cabinet?) And let’s not forget Suralan who will, presumably, soon be Lord Sugarpuff.
On the green opposite Parliament, a collection of tents and gazebos (the ones you can buy at B&Q with fake church windows) had sprung up. Here, throughout the day, reshuffle refugees roamed from tent to tent, grazing on soundbites and gossip.
Tourists stopped to stare (as you would). I befriended a group of Danish women wearing plastic see-through rain ponchos taking mobile phone pictures of Siobhain McDonagh, the Labour rebel, dressed in what appeared to be white satin evening-wear. Did they know what this was all about? They nodded. “George Brown is in trouble,” said one. I nodded. So he was but, it must be said, not as much as before.
©Ann Treneman
Finis
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