13 NOVEMBER 2004, Page 11

T , he Prince of Wales will be 56 on Sunday.

So will Paul Dacre, editor of the Daily Mail. It is interesting that these two men

were born on the same day, since observing their parallel careers tells you quite a lot about modern Britain. There are superficial similarities between them. Both men are very rich and have large country houses and desirable residences in central London. Both have two sons, and both sent both their boys to Eton. At first glance, Prince Charles would appear to have the better deal. He has more and larger houses (as far as I know) than Mr Dacre, since there is also Birkhall in Scotland, and he is a Knight of the Garter and of the Thistle, a Grand Commander of the Bath and a member of the Order of Merit, which Mr Dacre, so far, is not. Millions of people bow to the prince when they meet him, whereas no one, outside the Daily Mail's headquarters in Derry Street, does this to Mr Dacre. And Prince Charles, it is assumed, will one day be king, whereas Mr Dacre, according to our present constitution, will not. But in point of fact, it is much better to be Paul Dacre than to be Prince Charles. Dacre has power Over Charles and Charles has no power over Dacre. The prince may have more drivers and valets than the editor, but Dacre can send his minions to snoop on Charles whereas Charles cannot do the same in return. Mr Dacre can run headlines such as 'Charles weeps bitter tears of guilt' in the week of the death of Diana which suggest that the Mail has the power previously accorded only to what the marriage service calls 'the dreadful Day of Judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed'. The prince has no way to hit back. Privacy has become the greatest privilege in an intrusive society, and all members of the royal family are denied it. Mr nacre has it. He can stalk his twin with impunity.

ecently a politician suggested to me that David Cameron would be a good future leader of the Conservative party. A lot of people say this at the moment, but this man advanced a new reason of his own. It was that Cameron has a severely handicapped child. This, he said, would help to endear him to voters. It was a horrible fact, he said, that such afflictions are of great political use in modern culture. 1 fear he is right. If you suffer, you are believed to be a better person. There is a moral truth in this, since people who have

had few knocks in life find it harder to understand everyone else's pain and fear. But there are some other considerations. One is that an incentive to parade your sufferings can inflict new pain on other sufferers — spouse, children, parents. Another is that living with severe handicap does subject people to the most tremendous strain. Politicians are emotionally and physically overstretched anyway, as their families so often know to their cost. If they have to deal with exceptional difficulties, the burden is even heavier. David Cameron is a veiy able and likeable politician, and I hope he rises to the top, but it is a creepy society which sees a handicap in his child as a positive advantage.

Ihave just become an Ambassador for my county of East Sussex. No, we have not declared UDI, although one hears more and more talk of such a thing from several 'sad shires'. It is just that the county council's chairman has chosen 25 of us to go out into the world and preach the good news about our county. It is a great honour, but we do not get any diplomatic immunity, special number plates, free parking or even an entertainment allowance. We simply have to lie abroad (Kent? Surrey?) for the sake of our county. If I were a 'real' Ambassador, I would be slightly irritated that more and more bodies are adopting my title for their own purposes. In these trying times for the media, 1 am thinking of writing 'Ambassador' rather than 'journalist' on my passport. Now that Mr Prescott's schemes for regional government are, thank goodness, in ruins, I also await some recognition from the European

Union of the enhanced status of counties, and of their diplomatic representatives.

ne of those complacent wisdoms that

politicians love delivering is what Denis Healey liked to call 'Healey's First Law of Holes', which states, 'If you're in a hole, stop digging.' Is this always good advice? Since politics is a trade constantly looking for the weakness of opponents rather than making disinterested judgments of the merits of a case, ceasing to dig a hole you have begun can be very dangerous. Your critics immediately shout that you have 'blinked', or 'admitted' error, and at the same time complain that it is not enough to stop digging — you should start filling up the hole you made. Thus, it was probably a mistake by Tony Blair to apologise for the intelligence about weapons of mass destruction even to the extent that he has. It doesn't get him out of the hole: it simply makes him look more foolish to the people staring down at him round its edge. The alternative to Healey's law is the old first world war cartoon of two soldiers in the trenches: 'If you knows a better 'ole, go to it.'

Barbara Plett, the BBC's Middle East correspondent, has been made to apologise for saying on air that she 'started to cry' when she saw the helicopter carrying the dying Yasser Arafat out of his compound take to the air. The BBC is obviously right not to discipline her, though, since she only blurted out what they all think. Besides, it is traditional that the Corporation grieves at the death, or near-death, of murderers. In the first volume of his memoirs, The Missing Will, Michael Wharton (aka Peter Simple), who was working for the BBC at the time, remembers a drink with colleagues from their offices in Manchester in March 1953. Wharton went to the regular BBC bar and found a group of them looking extremely glum. 'What's the matter? What has happened?' he asked. The leader of the group `turned to me slowly and solemnly and said, "Haven't you heard? Stalin is dead." I could not help saying, "Pity he was ever born.".. . They did not speak to me again for a fortnight, and ever afterwards avoided me,' Recently, at a party, I came across a wonderful fountain which cascaded liquid chocolate for us to dip our fruit in. This was described as a 'must-have'. The phrase means the opposite. No one says that bread, water, light or shelter are 'must-haves'.