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Nick Clegg: A Stain on the Pants of
Politics?
by Westminster Insider
Monday, January 21, 2008
Though I can take no credit for it, I was nonetheless impressed by the
googling of the word ‘clegg’ by a noted political blogger. A month or so
ago, in the aftermath of Nick Clegg’s election as leader of the Liberal
Democrats,* Recess Monkey disclosed the following from an online
‘urban’ dictionary:
Clegg (n.)
Dried up poo found in the crack of one’s bum, often caused by a poor
wiping technique.
Revelation, or false omen? Would Mr Clegg make his (skid) mark on the
greying cotton y-fronts of the House of Commons in only a transient and
easily-scrubbed fashion; or would the force and potency of his efflux
permanently stain British politics, forever rendering said undergarments a
different hue?
Time would tell. He emerged as LibDem leader following the sort of angry
leadership competition only people with nothing to argue about can
muster. Those with little to separate them politically must do so via
lessons in comparative bitchiness. Witness also-ran Chris Huhne’s
‘dossier’ on Clegg’s flip-flopping (comically, now shadow Home Affairs
mouthpiece). Ditto deputy-leader Vince Cable’s ‘humorous’, policy-lite
PMQs interventions.
Through the contest, however, Clegg persevered with his gratingly
superior, sanctimonious style, trusting it would endear him to the LibDem
membership’s superior and sanctimonious cadres. He nearly fluffed what
all presumed would be a coronation: Huhne bested him in campaigning
terms and members fled the watery Clegg to his competitor’s somewhat
sterner, radical-liberal tonic.
But not in sufficient numbers; so Clegg lost an election he had
numerically won; leaving everyone with the impression that, given just
one more week, the pleasingly stubbly Huhne would have triumphed.
Following the Yuletide break and some respite from the Westminster
tedium (your correspondent took a rather pleasant sojourn in
Marrakech), the LibDems returned, earnest frowns knitted to their pallid
foreheads, sandals tightly fastened, indignation and resolve ever their
watchwords.
And as the new year got underway, the government was certainly in
trouble enough (its travails have been recorded sufficiently for me not to
list them here). An ideal moment, then, for the LibDems to attack the
government from both their traditionally-conflicting wings. They could
get uppity about civil liberties and state intervention, as Gladstone might
have. And they could call for the nationalisation of a bank, moan about
pensions, and even carp about social mobility. A golden opportunity,
one might have thought.
But Tory leader David Cameron had other ideas.
Cameron’s claim for the progressive, centrist-liberal mantle has been well
executed. So Clegg – often derided as a Dave-clone – would have to
battle hard to offer a distinctive voice, especially since his natural
tendency is to steer the LibDems towards their Orange-book, market
liberal wing: natural wet-Tory territory, in other words. How would this
be achieved? Clegg, it seemed, had a plan. It comprised of a red tie.
With Labour ministers voguishly sporting triangulatory blue, and Cameron
donning a (quite unsubtle) green number, the ever-astute Clegg thought
he saw an opening.
Red. Regal but radical! Bold but not Ming-orange! The colour of
socialism and of the blood the LibDems would surely spill for Clegg’s lofty
goals of doubling their Commons seats. “Go home to your tailors and
prepare for ideological cross-dressing,” he may have said at a LibDem
MPs’ meeting, conducted in a room larger than a primary school
classroom, but smaller than a lecture hall…
His first two PMQs, then, if hardly pyrotechnic, have been neat and tidy.
Still, it would not have been difficult to best his luckless predecessor,
Ming Campbell. All that was needed was a stern and unwavering voice;
a youthful visage; questions on propriety and on competency. He
delivered these well. But this is the honeymoon. Will this sort of noble
probing of the government suffice when an election is at stake? Does
Clegg have a Big Idea? In a hung parliament will he help Gordon or
Dave? Does he know if he is a social liberal or an economic one? Is he
(can he be?) both, or neither?
Back in 1997 the Liberal Democrats were reluctant-ish partners in a
progressive partnership with Tony Blair. Charles Kennedy started to
eschew this: politically it made sense for him to run the party to the left
and so to attack Blair on services and on Iraq. Internal arguments over
political economy could be ignored. Since then the LibDems have voted
less and less with the government. But what are the new leader’s
instincts? We do not know.
We only know this: that Clegg is a ‘roaring Sloane’ according to Ed
Vaizey [Pretty rich! – Eds.], the Tory MP with whom he once shared an
igloo. That he attended Westminster and Oxford (as did Huhne, his
challenger for the leadership of that most un-diverse of all parties).
That he is sort of interested in politics. That he was as wet and feeble
as can be in the party leadership election. That he has already made
laughable decisions, such as enlisting the risible 60-something rocker
Brian Eno as a ‘youth adviser’. And that he is so lacking in vim that Mr
Speaker this week forgot to give him his third question to the PM.
Skidmark it is, then.
--
* Britain’s third party. A bit like being Ralph Nader.
© lizardmagazine.com, 2008
Also see:
Politics?
by Westminster Insider
Monday, January 21, 2008
Though I can take no credit for it, I was nonetheless impressed by the
googling of the word ‘clegg’ by a noted political blogger. A month or so
ago, in the aftermath of Nick Clegg’s election as leader of the Liberal
Democrats,* Recess Monkey disclosed the following from an online
‘urban’ dictionary:
Clegg (n.)
Dried up poo found in the crack of one’s bum, often caused by a poor
wiping technique.
Revelation, or false omen? Would Mr Clegg make his (skid) mark on the
greying cotton y-fronts of the House of Commons in only a transient and
easily-scrubbed fashion; or would the force and potency of his efflux
permanently stain British politics, forever rendering said undergarments a
different hue?
Time would tell. He emerged as LibDem leader following the sort of angry
leadership competition only people with nothing to argue about can
muster. Those with little to separate them politically must do so via
lessons in comparative bitchiness. Witness also-ran Chris Huhne’s
‘dossier’ on Clegg’s flip-flopping (comically, now shadow Home Affairs
mouthpiece). Ditto deputy-leader Vince Cable’s ‘humorous’, policy-lite
PMQs interventions.
Through the contest, however, Clegg persevered with his gratingly
superior, sanctimonious style, trusting it would endear him to the LibDem
membership’s superior and sanctimonious cadres. He nearly fluffed what
all presumed would be a coronation: Huhne bested him in campaigning
terms and members fled the watery Clegg to his competitor’s somewhat
sterner, radical-liberal tonic.
But not in sufficient numbers; so Clegg lost an election he had
numerically won; leaving everyone with the impression that, given just
one more week, the pleasingly stubbly Huhne would have triumphed.
Following the Yuletide break and some respite from the Westminster
tedium (your correspondent took a rather pleasant sojourn in
Marrakech), the LibDems returned, earnest frowns knitted to their pallid
foreheads, sandals tightly fastened, indignation and resolve ever their
watchwords.
And as the new year got underway, the government was certainly in
trouble enough (its travails have been recorded sufficiently for me not to
list them here). An ideal moment, then, for the LibDems to attack the
government from both their traditionally-conflicting wings. They could
get uppity about civil liberties and state intervention, as Gladstone might
have. And they could call for the nationalisation of a bank, moan about
pensions, and even carp about social mobility. A golden opportunity,
one might have thought.
But Tory leader David Cameron had other ideas.
Cameron’s claim for the progressive, centrist-liberal mantle has been well
executed. So Clegg – often derided as a Dave-clone – would have to
battle hard to offer a distinctive voice, especially since his natural
tendency is to steer the LibDems towards their Orange-book, market
liberal wing: natural wet-Tory territory, in other words. How would this
be achieved? Clegg, it seemed, had a plan. It comprised of a red tie.
With Labour ministers voguishly sporting triangulatory blue, and Cameron
donning a (quite unsubtle) green number, the ever-astute Clegg thought
he saw an opening.
Red. Regal but radical! Bold but not Ming-orange! The colour of
socialism and of the blood the LibDems would surely spill for Clegg’s lofty
goals of doubling their Commons seats. “Go home to your tailors and
prepare for ideological cross-dressing,” he may have said at a LibDem
MPs’ meeting, conducted in a room larger than a primary school
classroom, but smaller than a lecture hall…
His first two PMQs, then, if hardly pyrotechnic, have been neat and tidy.
Still, it would not have been difficult to best his luckless predecessor,
Ming Campbell. All that was needed was a stern and unwavering voice;
a youthful visage; questions on propriety and on competency. He
delivered these well. But this is the honeymoon. Will this sort of noble
probing of the government suffice when an election is at stake? Does
Clegg have a Big Idea? In a hung parliament will he help Gordon or
Dave? Does he know if he is a social liberal or an economic one? Is he
(can he be?) both, or neither?
Back in 1997 the Liberal Democrats were reluctant-ish partners in a
progressive partnership with Tony Blair. Charles Kennedy started to
eschew this: politically it made sense for him to run the party to the left
and so to attack Blair on services and on Iraq. Internal arguments over
political economy could be ignored. Since then the LibDems have voted
less and less with the government. But what are the new leader’s
instincts? We do not know.
We only know this: that Clegg is a ‘roaring Sloane’ according to Ed
Vaizey [Pretty rich! – Eds.], the Tory MP with whom he once shared an
igloo. That he attended Westminster and Oxford (as did Huhne, his
challenger for the leadership of that most un-diverse of all parties).
That he is sort of interested in politics. That he was as wet and feeble
as can be in the party leadership election. That he has already made
laughable decisions, such as enlisting the risible 60-something rocker
Brian Eno as a ‘youth adviser’. And that he is so lacking in vim that Mr
Speaker this week forgot to give him his third question to the PM.
Skidmark it is, then.
--
* Britain’s third party. A bit like being Ralph Nader.
© lizardmagazine.com, 2008
Also see:
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