ANOTHER VOICE
The original English nanny emerges in her true colours at last
AUBERON WAUGH
Reasonably well-informed opinion has it that Mrs Thatcher may not be able to use her disgusting little veto against the EEC's harmonisation of excise duties, as she threatened to do in the House of Commons last Thursday. I do not know, not being an expert on the EEC constitution. But she was replying to what I suspect was a 'planted' parliamentary question from a back-bencher called Michael Colvin — certainly Colvin has no previous record as a temperance lobbyist, and was, indeed, at one time (possibly still is) parliamentary adviser to the National Union of Licensed Victuallers. Mrs Thatcher's intention was later confirmed by 'government sources', so we must imagine that her reply to Colvin's supplementary question was plan- ned in advance.
Colvin had pointed out that harmonisa- tion of excise duties would knock 18p off a pint of beer in Britain, it would (or so he wrongly claimed) knock 25 per cent off the cost of a bottle of wine and make a bottle of whisky cheaper by a third. 'What will that do for the sobriety of the nation?' he asked. Mrs Thatcher replied: 'We believe these attempts to harmonise duties are misconceived and unnecessary and we shall oppose them.' These mysterious 'govern- ment sources' then explained to the Daily Telegraph's political correspondent, George Jones, that Britain would use its veto to block the proposal.
One possible explanation for this might be that Mrs Thatcher actually believes the great torrent of government-inspired lies which has been flooding all the newspapers for the past month — combining soccer hooliganism and country town violence to give the impression of an epidemic of alcoholism. I do not, however, think this is very likely. She must know that the two claims at the centre of this canard — that the price of alcohol has been reduced in real terms since Mrs Thatcher came to power in 1979, and that consumption has increased — are not so much untrue as the exact reverse of the truth. Although wines and spirits have remained at much the same price in real terms, beer has shot up and, with it, the price of all alcohol. Far from consumption having increased, it has actually fallen, according to the latest available figures, from 7.2 litres of pure alcohol per head in 1978 to 7.1 litres in 1985. Far from being anywhere near the top of the world league, Britain comes 20th out of 29 major countries in alcohol con- sumption. Our problem is one of discipline affecting young males only, and could be solved easily enough by fines of up to £1,000 for drunk and disorderly behaviour in public.
Yet we are assured that it is the preva- lence of soccer hooliganism and 'country town violence' which has persuaded the Government to oppose reduction of duty in line with other Common Market coun- tries. Soccer hooliganism which occurs abroad would, of course, be unaffected, and I suspect the Government knows perfectly well that cheaper drink would make no difference to its incidence in this country. Country town violence may be no more than a silly-season story put around by various chief constables who want more money, but it is quite alarming how our sycophantic newspapers have joined the anti-alcohol crusade. Even the Sunday Telegraph led with a ludicrous claim that alcohol leads to hard drugs, while the Sunday Times toured the whole country looking for signs of drunkenness in Leices- ter, Chelsea, Chard (Somerset), Coventry and Sheffield and devoted nearly a whole page to quoting an 'expert', Douglas Rutherford, of the Institute of Alcohol Studies, without once mentioning that the 'Institute' is an entirely-funded front for the National Temperance Alliance.
An alternative explanation for Mrs Thatcher's behaviour might be that the Treasury is seriously worried about the £6.5 billion revenue it receives from drink- ers. If it lost half of that, Mr Lawson might have to add 3p to the Income Tax. But if that is the true reason, why (oh why) cannot she say so? Then, perhaps, the country could debate the matter for itself, afraid I'm not the flying doctor.' instead of accepting a torrent of patronis- ing rubbish about how we cannot have alcohol as cheap as our grown-up neigh- bours because we are a collection of naughty boys who could not be trusted with it.
No, I am afraid the real reason is simply that at last Mrs Thatcher has emerged in her true colours as the red-in-claw, long-in- tooth, beard-bristling original British nan- ny. For all her rhetoric of free choice, she genuinely sees the British people as chil- dren who have been put in her charge. She cannot bear the thought of knocking £3 off the price of a bottle of whisky. Every ounce of bossiness in her make-up recoils from the idea. Any number of lies is justified to get her own way. If children pull ugly faces and the wind changes, their faces will be stuck for ever. If they pick their noses, their fingers will drop off.
I now see that the poor old Nanny Hurd may be nothing more than a weak and terrified nursery maid. A giggling, easy- going, libertarian figure by nature, he has been driven to these ludicrous disciplina- rian excesses by the ferocious Nanny Thatcher above him: 'urgent action' on gun licences after Hungerford to annoy 1.2 million sportsmen; ID cards to assist cri- minals, terrorists and under-age drinkers while annoying everyone else; a Metropoli- tan Police Commissioner who dares to say that half the trouble is that people are not treated roughly enough in police stations.
Hurd's posture may be weak and con- temptible, but it is the demented Nanny Thatcher who should be locked, hollering, in her attic before she can inflict any more Gibraltar shootings on us. On 5 June 1975 the nation voted by a ratio of more than two to one to continue our membership of the Common Market. It was practically the first occasion in the history of the nanny- state that we had been asked a straight question, and we gave a straight answer. I, too, voted for Europe — not being in the slightest bit impressed by the arguments that it would make British industry more competitive, but having decided that I preferred the grown-up world where drink and tobacco were cheap, food was expen- sive and nannies almost unknown. Nanny Thatcher supposes she can override the nation's decision on the grounds that she knows best. I am sorry to say it, but the time has come for her to be pensioned off and Lawson put in her place.
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