Monthly Archives: June 2009

Brown’s really bad day

BillHaleyToday, even by his own standards,  has been an extraordinarily  bad one for the Prime Minister.

At PMQs he was savaged almost to destruction by David Cameron, who accused him of giving the House inaccurate information last week about capital expenditure growth between now and 2012.   Far from increasing, as Brown had contended, expenditure would actually fall after 2009 – 2010.

Brown, in replying, became angry –  no, furious –  and almost incoherent.  Embarrassingly, his hair became dishevelled and formed a Bill Haley–style kiss curl in the middle of his forehead.   He looked awful and very isolated,  his backbenchers sitting  ominously silent.

Later in the day, before the Treasury select committee, Mervyn King added to the PM’s woes by criticising the Government’s “unambitious” response to the need to reduce the alarming level of public borrowing:

“The scale of the deficit is truly extraordinary. 12.5% of GDP is not something that anybody would have anticipated even a year or two ago, and this reflects the scale of the global downturn.

“There will certainly need to be a plan for the lifetime of the next Parliament, contingent on the state of the economy, to show how those deficits will be brought down if the economy recovers to reach levels of deficits below those which were shown in the Budget figures.”

So, on the whole, an even worse than usual day for Gordon Brown. 

I wonder how many of those Labour MPs who pledged loyalty to him those two short weeks ago are now cursing themselves and their colleagues for their lack of resolve.

Delicious interlude

A brief but enjoyable sortie today to Grosvenor House and the annual British Hospitability Association lunch.  Guest speaker was Boris Johnson, who was on hilarious form.

I was delighted that my friend Shyam Patiar of Llandrillo College shared the award for vocational training.  Shyam has done a huge amount of good work at Llandrillo for the hospitality industry and it was good to see him receive further recognition for his work.

Had an early appointment in the House, so missed pudding.

PR triumph

gordonbrownPerhaps predictably, the Iraq inquiry, announced with great fanfare by Gordon Brown last as part of his latest (but probably not his last) relaunch, has proved a dubious PR triumph for the Prime Minister.

The difficulty was that, although the inquiry was welcome and long overdue, it was proposed by the PM that it should be conducted in private and should not report until after the next general election.

Since making his announcement,  Brown has performed something of a U-turn, by announcing that parts of the inquiry would be held in public. 

Now Brown’s position has been completely undermined by the chairman of the inquiry, Sir John Chilcot, who has announced that, except where there are “compelling” security reasons to the contrary, all the evidence will be heard in public. 

This will doubtless be immensely pleasing to Tony Blair, coming as it will during his campaign to secure the post-Lisbon European presidency, and will assuredly do wonders for rebuilding his rather  brittle relationship with the accident-prone occupant of No 10.

Breaking with tradition

BercowThe Speaker turned up for his first full day in the chamber wearing a black academic gown over a navy blue suit.

He looked a bit like a history master in a smart public school, but I’m sure we’ll get used to it.

Unsuitable for children

Speaker's HouseOn taking the chair for the first time after his election, John Bercow paid a very personal tribute to his family:

Colleagues, you will understand that my thoughts at this time are, above all, with my family: my wife, Sally, our three very young children, Oliver, Freddie and Jemima, not to mention my beloved mother, who has been keenly interested in the proceedings.

The new Speaker is unique among recent occupants of the chair in that he has a very young family; his children are aged 5, 3 and 1 respectively.

The apartment in the Commons which Speaker Bercow will soon occupy is palatial indeed, befitting the office of the First Commoner in the land.  It is not, however,  the sort of accommodation that most of us would regard as a suitable place to bring up a young family.

It will be interesting to see what steps the new Speaker will take to ensure that he achieves, to use that dreadful expression, the right sort of work-life balance.

Hands off Bryn Euryn

Let’s face it, life isn’t particularly cheerful at the moment, what with collapsing banks, rising unemployment, negative economic growth and disappearing pension funds.   We live in  a time in which many of life’s pleasures are becoming unaffordable; so we tend, increasingly, to resort to the simpler joys of existence.

Such as, for example, walking our dogs.   No matter how bad it gets, they can’t stop us doing that, can they?

Well actually, they can. Or at least they can try to.  If “they” happen to be the management committee of the Bryn Euryn nature reserve.

The Conwy County Council website tells us this about Bryn Euryn:

Bryn Euryn is a prominent limestone hill overlooking Rhos on Sea, with fine views from the summit. It is a rich mixture of grassland and woodland, part of it being a Site of Special Scientific Interest.  It also has great historical interest with Llys Euryn – a house dating from the 15th century – and a hilltop fort from the 6th century.  It is well served by a network of paths, including the Summit Trail, which links Llys Euryn and the fort at the summit.

What the website doesn’t tell us is that Bryn Euryn is also one of the best-loved dog walking sites in the entire area.  It has everything that both dogs and humans love: trees, open meadows and breathtaking views.  It is also free from livestock, meaning that dogs can be let off the leash in complete safety.  It is, in short, the next thing to a canine paradise.

But now the management committee has stuck its oar in.  The committee tells us that the site contains a rare limestone grass that is best encouraged by being grazed by livestock. Presumably that would also save the council the cost of grass cutting and produce a small profit in the form of a grazing fee.

The lovers of Bryn Euryn, however, say that that is bunkum.  They say that the grass doesn’t need to be trimmed and that the presence of livestock would make the Bryn less enjoyable for them and their dogs.

Personally, I’m with the dog walkers.  There are increasingly few places where dogs can be allowed the sort of freedom that they enjoy on Bryn Euryn.  The plan to graze livestock is downright unreasonable, would spoil the enjoyment of hundreds of dog walkers and their pets and should be abandoned immediately.

So on Saturday morning, I’m going to attend a meeting at Bryn Euryn to show my support for the friends of the nature reserve and my opposition to the spoilsports who want to make life a little less pleasant for dogs and their owners alike.  

If you feel strongly about this too, please show up at 10.30 a.m. The more of us who turn up, the more likely it is that the management committee will see sense.

Mr Speaker elect

John Bercow, by a significant majority, has been elected the 157th Speaker of the House.  He is also the first of the Jewish faith.

At 9.45 pm, he will attend in the House of Lords to receive the approbation of her Majesty.

We all wish him well.

Bated breath in the tearoom

The final ballot for the new Speaker has just taken place and the count is continuing.  The last two candidates are the two initial favourites, Sir George Young and John Bercow.  The challenge of Margaret Beckett, allegedly the Labour whips’ preferred candidate, never really took off.

Bated breath in the tearoom now.

Election report

Today is, of course, dominated by the election of the Speaker.  As I blog, the result of the first ballot has just been announced; John Bercow received 179 votes, with Sir George Young on 112.  This will be a tense time for the House official who I overheard telling a colleague that he’d got £25 riding on Sir George. 

The candidates’ hustings speeches were all very good.  The last speaker was Parmjit Dhanda, who outlined a radical programme of proposed reforms; the effect was spoiled only slightly by the sight of Tom Watson in the row behind him tapping furiously on his PDA.  He may have been blogging. 

Up in the press gallery, a distinguished member of the Fourth Estate who has been scarcely off our screens over the last four or five weeks sat staring at the ceiling, chewing gum, his face a picture of studied ennui.

Martin was not brought down by snobbery

speakermartinToday’s Observer carries an interview by Roy Hattersley with the former Speaker, Michael Martin – the first he has given since vacating the chair.

The article repeats the old refrain that it was snobbery that brought the Speaker down; interestingly, however, Martin appears to blame not his fellow MPs, but certain members of the press, for their disdainful attitude to his working class roots.

I have to say that I have never heard any of my colleagues express contempt of Martin’s background; indeed, on the day that he announced his resignation, it was one of the very grandest of the so-called Tory grandees who was the first to approach the chair and shake the Speaker’s hand.

What damaged Martin irreparably, in my view, was his handling of the Damian Green affair.  As I blogged at the time, his statement to the House on the issue appeared to me an exercise in distancing himself from responsibility for what was an almost unprecedented breach of the privileges of Parliament.

I must confess that, good, kind and courteous man though he is, I never regained my confidence in him.

Telegraphed

Yesterday, it was my turn. 

At 10.13 am, I received an e-mail from the Daily Telegraph, which began, portentously:

Dear David Jones,

The Daily Telegraph is investigating the expense claims made by MPs under the Parliamentary additional costs allowance system since the 2004/05 financial year. (As if I hadn’t noticed.)

We are considering publishing an article in tomorrow’s newspaper (20th June 2009) which will contain details of your expense claims.

We are aware of the provisions of the statutory instrument passed by Parliament last July and will therefore not be publishing members’ addresses or any other details which could compromise security.

However, as a matter of legitimate public interest and concern, we intend to publish the following details about your expense claims under the Additional Costs Allowance and Incidental Expenses Provision. We would invite you to respond to the following points.

The e-mail continued to outline two substantive allegations, the first of which was untrue and would, if published, have been defamatory.  The second was so ludicrous as to be laughable; I’ll let you in on that one a bit later.

The e-mail concluded, almost chattily:

Please could we receive your comments by 5pm today so that they can be given due weight in our inquiries and properly reflected in any article we decide to publish. Please could you also inform us if you do not wish to comment.

Many thanks for your time and I look forward to hearing from you shortly. I can be contacted on 07*** ****** or ******@telegraph.co.uk.

I composed a suitable reply.  That took some time.  I wanted to make it absolutely clear that the first allegation was wholly false.  I explained that I regarded the matter as very serious and that I was “reserving my position”, which is a useful turn of phrase understood by lawyers and journalists alike.  I sent the reply at 1.04 pm and said that I would be available to speak to the journalist that afternoon.

At 3.55 pm, having had no acknowledgment of my e-mail, I telephoned the journalist and asked him to confirm that he had received it.  He apologised, said that he should have got back to me, and confirmed that the Telegraph would not be publishing the allegations.

It would have been nice if he could have phoned me to say so, rather than wait for me to call.

And the second allegation?  Well, it ran as follows:

Using your office expenses, you spent £9.79 on a Welsh dictionary. Please could you explain in what way you felt this was an appropriate use of public money, and why it was necessary given that you have lived in Wales most of your life.

To which I replied:

I represent a Welsh-speaking constituency and I frequently deal with correspondence in the Welsh language.  My constituents are entitled to correspond with me in whichever language they prefer and I encourage them to do so.

Although I do speak Welsh, it is not with such fluency that I am able to deal with correspondence that is often of a technical nature without the assistance of a Welsh – English dictionary.  I use the dictionary regularly and exclusively for my constituency work.  In fact, I find it hard to see how anyone with any knowledge of Wales could not understand that a Welsh – English dictionary is an essential tool for correspondence in Welsh.

I thought I’d share that one with you.

Memo from Stockholm

StockholmLast day of the Baltic visit begins with a visit to the Swedish Urban Network Association at the grandiosely-named World Trade Centre, a large office block behind the railway station.

The weather improved yesterday and in the evening we had the chance to escape from the minibus (it seems to be the same one, no matter which city we are visiting) and take a walk around the old town. 

The FCO brief for Sweden is equally as informative as that for Finland, but less quirkily so.  There is, however, a fascinating nugget in the section headed “Royal Family”:

The Royal family holds a ceremonial role and is popular with the public.  Republican groups occasionally try to create a debate on the future of the monarchy but there is little public support for its abolition… A member of the Royal family is Princess Lilian – born Lilian Davies in Swansea in 1915.  She was married to King Carl XVI Gustav’s uncle, Prince Bertil, who died in 1997.

I am ashamed to say that I had never previously heard of  Princess Lilian, but the Swedish Royal Family website has a short but interesting biographical note, which tells us that she also holds the title of Duchess of Halland. 

Ferry to Helsinki

On the ferry to Helsinki, I study the comprehensive FCO brief on Finland.

This provides the following useful information:

  • Finns drink more coffee per capita than any other nation in the world.  Belgium are second and Norway third;
  • Finnish speeding fines are based on your annual income.  In 2004, the 27 year-old heir to a family-owned sausage empire received a record €170,000 ticket for driving at 80 kph in a 40 kph zone;
  • There are very few original Finnish words which commence with the letters b, c, d, f, q, w, x or z.  Most of them are loan words  with Swedish, Germanic, Russian or English origins;
  • Finland is home to the world mosquito-killing championship, the world mobile phone-throwing competition and an annual national wife-carrying competition (for which the first prize is the wife’s weight in lemonade);
  • 10% of Finland’s land area is covered by water and 69 % by forest;
  • Finland has 187,888 lakes and 179,584 islands.  The surface area of Finland is growing by about 7 sq km a year due to uplift following the last ice age.

All this is tremendously interesting stuff, with which I hope suitably to impress any Finnish politician with whom I may fall into conversation this afternoon.

Letter from Tallinn

TallinnA hectic day in Tallinn, meeting the finance minister, representatives of the port authority and educationalists, together with a visit to the Estonian Parliament where, ironically enough, they were voting for two new deputy speakers.  The vote was over and done with in five minutes; I doubt whether Michael Martin’s successor will be elected so speedily next Monday.

Tallinn is a fascinating mediaeval city, its centre almost untouched by the second half of the twentieth century.  If one were wholly cynical, one might observe that the dead hand of the soviet era spared it from the depredations of 60s and 70s architecture, which still afflicts so many British cities.  It is an absolute jewel, which deserves more time for exploration.

Unfortunately, we are off the Helsinki on the 10 o’clock ferry tomorrow.  We have had the merest glimpse of this Hanseatic town.  We have seen enough, however, to know that the effect of the recession here is considerably worse than in most UK cities.  Estonia is suffering from double-digit negative growth, and it shows. 

There are a few cruise ships in the port, but their passengers spend little – €29 on average, we are told.  The all-important tourist industry is suffering badly.

A friendly Estonian MP escorts us back to our hotel across the charming, but almost deserted, town square.  “We used to have 150 restaurants in Tallinn, but 60 have closed so far this year,” he says.

I feel desperately sorry for the Estonians.  They are warm, welcoming people, who experienced 50 years of misery under the Nazis and then the soviets. 

They, more than most, deserve a bit of luck, but it seems to be eluding them at the moment.   I sincerely hope their fortune changes before too long.

Product placement

Lake PeipsiGlancing at a map of Estonia, I was amused and astonished to see that the large lake that forms part of its eastern border with Russia is called Lake Pepsi.  The ultimate product placement, I thought.

A second look revealed that it is in fact Lake Peipsi.

I wonder how much Pepsico would have to pay the cash-starved Estonian government to drop that first “i”?