I took David Cameron's money can't buy happiness speech as the main subject for my latest column and Podcast, after Cameron appeared to take up my earlier suggestion that the party which most closely manages to identify itself with this agenda will win the next election.
"Bit by bit, Mr Cameron is cleverly positioning himself as the man who – in contrast to the dour Scotsman - can put a smile on Britain’s face."
But wait. It now emerges that someone else whose name has frequently been mentioned in connection with Number 10 Downing Street is making a big pitch for exactly the same territory.
Step forward Alan Milburn, who like Cameron, is no friend of the Chancellor and may conceivably be entertaining thoughts of running against him in a contested election sometime soon.
The really interesting thing about Milburn's piece in this week's Sunday Times News Review is that although it starts off as a paean to family life and spending more time with the kids, the more your read on the more it starts to come across like a personal manifesto for the future.
Take this for example:
"I suppose most of us have always known in our hearts that neither power nor money can buy happiness.....But while money alone won’t make us happy, tackling poverty alleviates misery. The happiest societies tend to be the most equal ones. And since unemployment — alongside family breakdown and bad health — makes the biggest contribution to unhappiness, creating paid employment is good news for the individual as well as for the economy."
Furthermore, although he several times insists he made the right decision in resigning twice from the Cabinet, not once in the piece does he rule out another return to the frontline.
Regular visitors know my views about Milburn's chances - I think they are very slight in view of his relative lack of standing with Labour MPs and the unions compared to Mr Brown and other potential rivals such as Alan Johnson.
But I wonder whether Milburn might just be craftily positioning himself as the man who can beat Mr touchy-feely Cameron at his own game?
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
My Desert Island Discs
David Cameron has done it, so has Iain Dale, so without further ado here are my eight Desert Island Discs - with not a Benny Hill novelty record or piece of aspirational M People rubbish in sight!
1. 101 Eastbound - Fourplay. Smooth jazz has been the music of choice in the Linford household for the past few years, perhaps because my wife got fed-up with me listening to The Smiths and Prefab Sprout all the time. But I needed no musical re-education to get into this wondrous, uplifting piece of jazz funk. Whenever we hear it, it seems that God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.
2. Piano Concerto in C Minor - Sergey Rachmaninov. Rach 2 is, quite simply, the most romantic piece of music ever written. Forget the fact that Barry Manilow ripped off the tune of the 2nd Movement for "All By My Self," and immerse yourself in those luscious chord sequences and impassioned climaxes.
3. I Trawl the Megahertz - Paddy McAloon. Paddy is of course best known for his work with Prefab Sprout, but this solo effort released in 2003 is his masterpiece. A 22-minute voiceover set against an orchestral theme, it builds into a musical poem which is astonishing in its sheer breadth of imagination - full lyrics here.
4. Adagio - Samuel Barber. This will forever be associated in my mind with the 2001 Last Night of the Proms when, in the wake of 9/11, American conductor Leonard Slatkin dispensed with all the usual nationalistic rubbish and played this instead. "This is our music of grief," he explained. Totally moving.
5. Thieves Like Us - New Order. There are any number of things I could have chosen from my student days in the 1980s when most of my musical tastes were formed, but this stands out for its sheer symphonic sweep and immensity. The lyrics - something about the air supporting eagles - are best forgotten though.
6. Blood on the Rooftops - Genesis. A unique song-writing collabration between Phil Collins and the great Steve Hackett, who sadly left the band the shortly afterwards, this pips "Supper's Ready" as my favourite Genesis track. Perfectly captures the spiritual hangover of the 1970s, "dark and grey...the Wednesday Play."
7. Come Together - Primal Scream (Album Version). An extended remix featuring a voiceover from Martin Luther King. When the long instrumental introduction finally cranks up and the full works kick in, it's supposed to mirrror the rush of E - hence "Come Together" - but when the music's this good, who needs the drugs?
8. "I Cannot Tell...." - Londonderry Air. Set to the tune of "Danny Boy," "I cannot tell, how he whom angels worship" is my favourite hymn. We had it sung at our wedding in 2001 and, one day, it will be sung again at my funeral, whenever that is. I hope it raises the roof.
Book: The Bible. No contest here - as the Westminster Confession says, this contains all that is necessary for salvation.
Luxury Item: My Tent. Apart from the fact that I might need it from time to time, most of my happiest memories are mixed up with it and if I ever was stranded on a desert island, I could close my eyes and imagine I was back in my favourite place, the Lake District.
1. 101 Eastbound - Fourplay. Smooth jazz has been the music of choice in the Linford household for the past few years, perhaps because my wife got fed-up with me listening to The Smiths and Prefab Sprout all the time. But I needed no musical re-education to get into this wondrous, uplifting piece of jazz funk. Whenever we hear it, it seems that God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.
2. Piano Concerto in C Minor - Sergey Rachmaninov. Rach 2 is, quite simply, the most romantic piece of music ever written. Forget the fact that Barry Manilow ripped off the tune of the 2nd Movement for "All By My Self," and immerse yourself in those luscious chord sequences and impassioned climaxes.
3. I Trawl the Megahertz - Paddy McAloon. Paddy is of course best known for his work with Prefab Sprout, but this solo effort released in 2003 is his masterpiece. A 22-minute voiceover set against an orchestral theme, it builds into a musical poem which is astonishing in its sheer breadth of imagination - full lyrics here.
4. Adagio - Samuel Barber. This will forever be associated in my mind with the 2001 Last Night of the Proms when, in the wake of 9/11, American conductor Leonard Slatkin dispensed with all the usual nationalistic rubbish and played this instead. "This is our music of grief," he explained. Totally moving.
5. Thieves Like Us - New Order. There are any number of things I could have chosen from my student days in the 1980s when most of my musical tastes were formed, but this stands out for its sheer symphonic sweep and immensity. The lyrics - something about the air supporting eagles - are best forgotten though.
6. Blood on the Rooftops - Genesis. A unique song-writing collabration between Phil Collins and the great Steve Hackett, who sadly left the band the shortly afterwards, this pips "Supper's Ready" as my favourite Genesis track. Perfectly captures the spiritual hangover of the 1970s, "dark and grey...the Wednesday Play."
7. Come Together - Primal Scream (Album Version). An extended remix featuring a voiceover from Martin Luther King. When the long instrumental introduction finally cranks up and the full works kick in, it's supposed to mirrror the rush of E - hence "Come Together" - but when the music's this good, who needs the drugs?
8. "I Cannot Tell...." - Londonderry Air. Set to the tune of "Danny Boy," "I cannot tell, how he whom angels worship" is my favourite hymn. We had it sung at our wedding in 2001 and, one day, it will be sung again at my funeral, whenever that is. I hope it raises the roof.
Book: The Bible. No contest here - as the Westminster Confession says, this contains all that is necessary for salvation.
Luxury Item: My Tent. Apart from the fact that I might need it from time to time, most of my happiest memories are mixed up with it and if I ever was stranded on a desert island, I could close my eyes and imagine I was back in my favourite place, the Lake District.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The best John Reid story of the week
Amid all the sound and fury about John Reid and the deportation of foreign prisoners debacle, together with some mischievous speculation about the whereabouts of his PhD thesis, Stalin's Gran lightens the atmosphere with this delightful story about what the Home Secretary saw in his wife. Enjoy!
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Guardian poll prediction would mean constitutional crisis
The Guardian leads this morning on an opinion poll which shows support for Labour now down to 34pc with David Cameron's Tories on 38pc and Ming Campbell's Libs on 20pc.
Julian Glover, who seems to have taken over from Alan Travis as the paper's poll-meister, writes that this result "suggests that the next election may well produce a hung Parliament."
That is something of an understatement. Not only would such a result produce a hung Parliament, it would also lead to certain constitutional chaos in that the party that lost the election would still have the largest number of seats in the House of Commons.
To see what I mean, go to the Electoral Calculus site and type in the Guardian's poll predictions. It will give you a result that has Labour on 305 seats, 19 short of a majority, the Tories on 272, and the Lib Dems on 37.
What this means is that the party that would be deemed by public opinion to have "won" the election - the Tories - would not be in a position to form a government even in coalition with the Liberal Democrats.
The Labour Party, by contrast, would probably be able to stitch together enough alliances withe minor parties to stay in power, even though it would be clearly seen to have lost the confidence of the British people.
This is pretty unchartered constitutional territory. Only once before, in 1950, has the party which won the most votes (the Tories) not gained the largest number of seats and consequently not formed the Government. But then it was only by a tiny margin and there was no third party to complicate things.
As the Chinese used to say, we live in interesting times....
Julian Glover, who seems to have taken over from Alan Travis as the paper's poll-meister, writes that this result "suggests that the next election may well produce a hung Parliament."
That is something of an understatement. Not only would such a result produce a hung Parliament, it would also lead to certain constitutional chaos in that the party that lost the election would still have the largest number of seats in the House of Commons.
To see what I mean, go to the Electoral Calculus site and type in the Guardian's poll predictions. It will give you a result that has Labour on 305 seats, 19 short of a majority, the Tories on 272, and the Lib Dems on 37.
What this means is that the party that would be deemed by public opinion to have "won" the election - the Tories - would not be in a position to form a government even in coalition with the Liberal Democrats.
The Labour Party, by contrast, would probably be able to stitch together enough alliances withe minor parties to stay in power, even though it would be clearly seen to have lost the confidence of the British people.
This is pretty unchartered constitutional territory. Only once before, in 1950, has the party which won the most votes (the Tories) not gained the largest number of seats and consequently not formed the Government. But then it was only by a tiny margin and there was no third party to complicate things.
As the Chinese used to say, we live in interesting times....
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Does David Cameron read my column?
Last Thursday, in my new(ish) column in the North West Enquirer, I made the following observation about the changing terms of the political debate.
"Other concerns are slowly coming to the fore.....most fundamentally of all, perhaps, the rise of the so-called “happiness” agenda – the idea that the first duty of governments should be to promote the emotional well-being of their citizens, even if this is at the expense of economic growth."
Yesterday Tory leader David Cameron, who may very well read the Enquirer since he has already featured in a front-page story and interview, said the following in a keynote speech.
"It's time we admitted that there's more to life than money, and it's time we focused not just on GDP, but on GWB - general well-being. Improving our society's sense of well-being is, I believe, the central political challenge of our times."
Seriously, I think Cameron's attempt to claim the "happiness agenda" is a potentially incredibly significant development in terms of the political battles of the next few years.
His reference yesterday to there being more to life than the "Protestant Work Ethic" is a direct dig at his likely election opponent Gordon Brown who the Tories see as obsessed with work and regulation whereas they want to be identified with wellbeing and relaxation.
In my Enquirer column, I also made the prediction that, as we enter the twilight of the Blair era, the party which best manages to tap into this changing public agenda will be the one that ultimately emerges as the dominant force of the next decade or so.
Well so far, it's 1-0 to Mr Cameron.
"Other concerns are slowly coming to the fore.....most fundamentally of all, perhaps, the rise of the so-called “happiness” agenda – the idea that the first duty of governments should be to promote the emotional well-being of their citizens, even if this is at the expense of economic growth."
Yesterday Tory leader David Cameron, who may very well read the Enquirer since he has already featured in a front-page story and interview, said the following in a keynote speech.
"It's time we admitted that there's more to life than money, and it's time we focused not just on GDP, but on GWB - general well-being. Improving our society's sense of well-being is, I believe, the central political challenge of our times."
Seriously, I think Cameron's attempt to claim the "happiness agenda" is a potentially incredibly significant development in terms of the political battles of the next few years.
His reference yesterday to there being more to life than the "Protestant Work Ethic" is a direct dig at his likely election opponent Gordon Brown who the Tories see as obsessed with work and regulation whereas they want to be identified with wellbeing and relaxation.
In my Enquirer column, I also made the prediction that, as we enter the twilight of the Blair era, the party which best manages to tap into this changing public agenda will be the one that ultimately emerges as the dominant force of the next decade or so.
Well so far, it's 1-0 to Mr Cameron.
The one that got away
My copy of the Little Red Book of New Labour Sleaze arrived in the post yesterday. A great effort all round to get this into print, particularly from co-editors Iain Dale and Guido Fawkes.
There are three contributions from yours truly, but I was mildly disappointed to see that my piece on the downfall of Ron Davies is not one of them - so I'm publishing it here instead!
***
A Moment of Madness
The bare facts are beyond parody. Welsh Secretary Ron Davies, returning to London after a difficult weekend spent dealing with a spate of floods, goes walkabout on Clapham Common near a notorious gay cruising zone known as "Gobbler's Gulch."
He meets a Rastafarian who invites him back to his place in Brixton for a curry. On the way there, Davies is mugged and some personal items stolen.
The hapless minister might have left matters there had it not been for the fact that one of the items stolen was his House of Commons pass, obliging him to report the matter to the police.
Within 24 hours, Davies was an ex-minister, ruthlessly dispatched into the political outer darkness in one of the most clinical operations of the entire New Labour era.
The police, it later emerged, told Home Secretary Jack Straw. Mr Straw told Tony Blair. Mr Blair told Mr Davies he would have to go, and asked Alastair Campbell to write his resignation letter for him.
But was he forced out because he had shown a lack of judgement in his dining companions? Or was it simply to appease a tabloid press who were convinced Britain was being run by a "gay mafia?"
If his case was "sleazy" it was more to do with the dishonesty involved in maintaining a double-life behind what was a robustly heterosexual façade.
Over drinks with journalists in opposition, Davies would regularly make jibes about the sexuality of the then Welsh Secretary William Hague, but Hague turned out to be straight, while Davies eventually admitted his bisexuality in an emotional personal statement in the Commons.
Would Davies had been forced to resign today? Probably not. His behaviour was foolish for a man in his position, but what tended to be forgotten was that he was essentially a victim of crime.
The fact that he was also Old Labour, Welsh, and a leading proponent of devolution meant he was never likely in any case to top the Prime Minister's Christmas card list.
Freed from the shackles and constraints of office, Davies went on to develop a passion for what he called "badger watching."
But that, as they say, is another story.
There are three contributions from yours truly, but I was mildly disappointed to see that my piece on the downfall of Ron Davies is not one of them - so I'm publishing it here instead!
***
A Moment of Madness
The bare facts are beyond parody. Welsh Secretary Ron Davies, returning to London after a difficult weekend spent dealing with a spate of floods, goes walkabout on Clapham Common near a notorious gay cruising zone known as "Gobbler's Gulch."
He meets a Rastafarian who invites him back to his place in Brixton for a curry. On the way there, Davies is mugged and some personal items stolen.
The hapless minister might have left matters there had it not been for the fact that one of the items stolen was his House of Commons pass, obliging him to report the matter to the police.
Within 24 hours, Davies was an ex-minister, ruthlessly dispatched into the political outer darkness in one of the most clinical operations of the entire New Labour era.
The police, it later emerged, told Home Secretary Jack Straw. Mr Straw told Tony Blair. Mr Blair told Mr Davies he would have to go, and asked Alastair Campbell to write his resignation letter for him.
But was he forced out because he had shown a lack of judgement in his dining companions? Or was it simply to appease a tabloid press who were convinced Britain was being run by a "gay mafia?"
If his case was "sleazy" it was more to do with the dishonesty involved in maintaining a double-life behind what was a robustly heterosexual façade.
Over drinks with journalists in opposition, Davies would regularly make jibes about the sexuality of the then Welsh Secretary William Hague, but Hague turned out to be straight, while Davies eventually admitted his bisexuality in an emotional personal statement in the Commons.
Would Davies had been forced to resign today? Probably not. His behaviour was foolish for a man in his position, but what tended to be forgotten was that he was essentially a victim of crime.
The fact that he was also Old Labour, Welsh, and a leading proponent of devolution meant he was never likely in any case to top the Prime Minister's Christmas card list.
Freed from the shackles and constraints of office, Davies went on to develop a passion for what he called "badger watching."
But that, as they say, is another story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)