A Gleam of Hope

Whatever their political allegiance, Britons must have breathed a sigh of relief to have seen the performance of their un-elected Prime Minister at Camp David. Alongside the President of the United States, who, as one commentator put it rather unkindly, appeared to have dressed himself by way of the local charity shop, Mr. Brown wore a respectably tailored suit, in sharp contrast to his elected predecessor who looked more like an ageing pop star than a statesman, on a similar occasion.
If manners maketh man, a decent suit helps a lot as does addressing people correctly.
Mr. Brown was perfectly correct to address George Bush as 'Mr. President' and not as 'Georgie baby.' It's a subtlety that Mr. Bush has failed to spot, as witness his referring to the President of France as 'my friend Jacques,' when, had he taken note, Mrs. Chirac in public always referred to her husband as 'Monsieur Le President.'
If nothing else, the British Prime Minister's performance will have set the stage for a more useful relationship between the two countries, if not between himself and his present counterpart.
Fortunately for the United States and the rest of the world, Bush has little more time in which to inflict his ideology upon them and, it must be hoped, his successor will have been taking notes.
If I had been Brown, which luckily for all you out there I'm not, I would have taken exception to being mistaken for a humourless Scot. This Texas style folksiness has no place in meetings that concern the fate of many in this world and, it is worth noting, Mr. Bush is hardly Texan anyway. His family moved there from Connecticut to avoid the swingeing taxes in that state.
In America, a friend is someone with whom you have exchanged a few words on one occasion. A good friend is someone you have met twice and a true friend is someone who has bummed twenty bucks from you (or vice versa). It's a confusion of terminology that has fooled many, public or politician.
But there can be little doubt about the wording used by Mr. Brown to describe his meetings with President Bush.
'Full and frank,' which is, of course, diplomatic speak for 'we hardly saw eye to eye on a thing.'
When Mr. Blair met President Bush at Camp David and discussed that vital world topic, their brands of toothpaste, it is possible that, due to the tightness of his jeans, some circulation of blood to the brain was impaired.
Mr. Brown does not seem to have been suffering from the same distressing malady.
But if and when an American President comes avisiting, I suggest he meets him at Heathrow in a golf cart and does a 360 spin for the press.
It's what U.S. Presidents do best.

My book on Anglo-US relations, "Grounds for Divorce," is available from Amazon etc.

Dear John...........

......I, and many others, will regret your absence. No longer will we have the luxury of such an easy target for our jibes.
But the image of you there, in the House of Commons, slumped like a porcine lump of lard alongside your leader, will be for ever with me. I often wondered – what were you thinking about? Was it of candlelit dinners with Tracy followed by a romp in the ministerial bed, or was it the faint click of wood on wood, as the croquet mallets flailed at Donneywood, while the troops were hearing the click of AK 47’s in Iraq?
Or perhaps you were just ruminating on which of the Jaguars you needed to have polished for tomorrow.
A little further along the front bench we find Miss Hewitt, and, if she’ll just let me finish, I must say her teeth are a credit to the National Health Service, which, as you all know, has improved immeasurably under her aegis. You all know that because she has told you so, repeatedly.
The Foreign Secretary is absent, on a visit to China, which will prevent any major cock-ups in foreign policy for the moment. But soon, it is hoped, she will be trundling her caravan down the dusty road of private life, as far away from Westminster as the Foreign Office can arrange.
And so to the leader of this motley band of brothers and sisters. What of the reputation of the Vicar of St. Albions, as Private Eye like to call him? As he spins himself off into private life, how will he be remembered?
Of course, by the war, stupid!
Whatever he may or may not have achieved during his long tenure at the helm, it is this one terrible error of judgement that brought the good ship Great Britain on to the rocks, acerbating terrorism against his own people and frittering away lives and money on an unwinnable conflict being waged at the behest of his mate, George W. Bush, and against the wishes of a large majority of his own people.
It is this that, to me, is the great failing of his premiership. A failure to realise that he was to act for the people of the country and not follow the leadership of another, however much he may personally have believed that he was in the right.
But perhaps the most extraordinary decision was that of appointing Mr. Prescott as his deputy. The position was only created out of necessity during the Second World War, when, in Churchill’s frequent absences, a leader was required back at home. Clement Attlee filled the post admirably. Although Churchill is alleged to have said of him “a sheep in sheep’s clothing” and “ a modest man – with much to be modest about,” they worked extremely well together. Churchill was sometimes waspish, even about his friends, and could rarely resist a neat turn of phrase but, more than anyone, recognised and appreciated Attlee’s strengths.
What can be said of Mr. Prescott?
Well, many of us will regret his departure. The Blair cabinet gave us, in the cynicism and ridicule business, unparalleled opportunities for us to shy our verbal coconuts against some of the easiest Aunt Sallies ever assembled under one roof.
Somehow, I don’t think Gordon Brown’s lot will be half as much fun.

My book, “Grounds for Divorce,” exploding the myth of the Bush-Blair ‘special relationship’ is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble etc.