DIARY
ROBERT HARDMAN The oiks have certainly done Tony Blair a favour. For some time ministers have been bracing themselves for humiliation on 6 July when Fifa, the lords of international football, gather in Zurich to decide who will stage the 2006 World Cup. The govern- ment has spent millions promoting Eng- land's bid and presenting itself as the fan's friend. Remember all those laddish prime ministerial asides, all those photogenic knockabouts with Kevin Keegan and Sir Alex Ferguson at Labour party confer- ences? But long before the first English throwback threw the first chair in Belgium, the bid was limping. The European block vote was behind Germany, and the rest of the world was coming round to South Africa. Having wed himself to football, Mr Blair was going to be tied to England's fail- ure if (or rather when) Fifa did not vote for Ing-Er-Land. John Major did not suffer for backing Manchester's doomed bid for the 2000 Olympics since no one seriously thought that Salford could beat Sydney. The 2006 World Cup is a different matter. Most people thought England had it in the bag. With the mighty Blazza behind the bid, how could it fail? Now the Prime Min- ister has a scapegoat. The spin doctors are already at work, peddling the line that it is the hooligans wot lost it. Mr Blair and his football envoy, Tony Banks, MP, can lead us in disappointment rather than face our wrath. If the Cup goes to South Africa, they may even try to spin it as a sort of victory. Before the last election, to his subsequent embarrassment, Mr Banks put down a Commons motion calling for England to back out and support South Africa in a ges- ture of solidarity with Nelson Mandela.
In an ideal world, every World Cup would be staged in France, just like the last one. This week I am back in the same spot that was my base for the 1998 tournament. From here I had followed England's cam- paign across France and saw France victori- ous in the final. I had no official pass but it was not difficult to find tickets without pay- ing a fortune. The formula was a simple one — talk to the locals in their own lan- guage and be respectful. The French were as charming as they were long-suffering. I remember that grim night when England lost to Argentina and the yobs went berserk in St Etienne. Eventually, I managed to dodge the chairs, the bottles and the police charges to reach the restaurant where I had parked my car. Peeking through his shut- ters, the owner spotted me and invited me in. It was midnight, my compatriots were wrecking his city and he was opening his kitchen to feed me. After France's ultimate triumph, I found myself among a million people in the centre of Paris. There was not a whiff of trouble. Nor was there a problem finding a decent plate of roast lamb at two in the morning. If 'football's coming home', could it please come home to France.
July sees Horse Guards Parade in its ele- ment. It is a majestic space at the epicentre of national life but, for many years, it was wasted. Until recently, it served as a civil service carpark which was cleared only when a colour needed trooping. On 19 July, it will stage the birthday pageant for Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother; and before then it will be packed, night after night, for the Royal Military Tattoo. This is the gov- ernment's part-exchange for scrapping the Royal Tournament. It will be a spectacular event — even the Royal Tournament never managed real parachutists — and anyone can buy a ticket. But the Tattoo will be a one-off, a last blast of services showman- ship, which the government is not repeat- ing. Once it is over, New Britain can get on with creating new, 'relevant' showpiece events. The trouble is that New Britain is not very good at the big occasions. Millen- nium Eve summed it up, although some- how I found it sadder to watch several bus- loads of yawning, gum-chewing 'kids' being told to line up among the immaculate Guard of Honour at last year's opening of the Scottish Parliament. Old Britain does these things better. I defy anyone to watch the Royal Military Tattoo and then feel that this sort of event should be consigned to the past.
In some circles it is fashionable to be blasé about the Queen Mother's centenary. `Who gives a damn?' they sigh over the polenta and the pesto. I think they are mis- guided. But they may be interested to learn that the birthday girl has had similar thoughts. On 4 August, the birthday prop- er, the plan is for an appearance on the Buckingham Palace balcony. When palace officials first put the idea to the Queen Mother, she had her doubts. Will anyone be interested?' she wondered. Indeed, she is said to be far more excited about another royal milestone in two years' time. As one courtier put it to me, 'In her view, turning 100 is nothing special compared with seeing one's daughter clock up 50 years on the throne.' One's daughter, like millions of others, might disagree.
Adifferent centenary next week: Aus- tralia's. To mark the 100th anniversary of confederation, the British government is laying on several events and a state service at Westminster Abbey. Quite right, too. But, once it is all over, will the government explain why it is steadfastly refusing to mark the 200th birthday of the United Kingdom next year?
APrince William leaves Eton for the wider world, desperate publicists are dreaming up stunts to link him with their clients — as he himself acknowledged in his 18th-birthday interview. For several months, he was supposed to have been an ardent admirer of pop starlet Britney Spears (according to sources close to Miss Spears rather than the Prince). In fact, the Prince and his chums have more timeless tastes. I can disclose that the sixth-form common room or 'library' in the Prince's house is not a shrine to Miss Spears. In pride of place is a picture of a pouting Raquel Welch in One Million Years BC, a film released 16 years before either Miss Spears or the Prince was born.
Robert Hardman is a columnist and corre- spondent for the Daily Telegraph.
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