A Spectator's Notebook
I hear, with great dismay, that one of the casualties oi Aeggie Iviaudiing's departure from the Home Office, may well be licensing reform. Freddie Erroll's committee, set up by Maudling when Home Secretary, has already recommended a general relaxation in our tiresome regulations about when and where and with whom we are allowed to have a drink. But to put these recommendations — or something like them — into practice requires new legislation, and that, in its turn, demands a Home Secretary determined upon this particular reform. Sherrydrinking Robert Carr is far less a committed reformer in this field than was Maudling, who sees nothing wrong in champagne for breakfast. On the assumption — now widely made — that the general election will be in October 1974, and given the number of measures already in the pipeline, there is only one year of new legislation left. Several ministries and departments have claims upon this time, and the Home Office is unlikely to be allowed more than a couple of Bills. A new law governing adoption is probable; so is legislation concerning the rules of evidence. Immigration may yet require further legislation. One way and another, the outlook for licensing reform is bleak. This will please the brewers, the temperance movement and the Licensed Victuallers Association, and no one else.
Sendall's Wilsoniana
The recent revival of Harold Wilson — which some of us have always regarded as inevitable, which has occasioned such simple joy at the Daily Mirror, and such perturbation at more conservative establishments — has naturally given fresh life to stories about the old maestro at the height of his powers, all of nine or ten years ago. Chatting the other night to Wilfred Sendall of the Daily Express about the days in which politicians were much larger, and less drab, figures than they are now, I heard this anecdote. Supermac was tottering to his fall, but the heir apparent to his style and power, Wilson, had still to await his moment. Sendall came to see Wilson in the rooms allocated to the Leader of the Opposition in the House of Commons, rooms by virtue of their extensive expanse of window most suited for observation of weather conditions around Westminster. The thunder pealed; the lightning flashed; the rain beat down. And Wilson greeted the political correspondent of a paper committed to Macmillan's survival thus: When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Sporting spirit
Like, I suppose — at least I hope — millions of sports fans I watched the Barbarians' triumph over the All Blacks last weekend. I can compete, neither in expertise nor in rhetoric, with the rugby football commentators who have already exulted over what was probably the finest game for decades. But I would observe that John Dawes's Barbarians began by playing open, passing, running rugby, and by their verve and confidence forced the New Zealanders, challenged in the essential spirit of the game, to come out and do likewise. Just so — and it is a comparison I have not, so far, seen noted — the Irish forced a draw with Ian Kirkpatrick's warriors: on the verge of being beaten, they began to run with the ball, and secured a draw, thus denying this year's tourists the unique satisfaction of beating each of the Home Countries in a single tour. Perhaps one of the reasons why the significance of this comparison was missed is the candy-floss nature of so much rugby commentary today. For example, on television last Saturday Cliff Morgan was to be found extolling the Barbarians, the All-Blacks, and the sporting spirit of the Cardiff crowd. This last he demonstrated by drawing the attention of the viewers to the supposed fact that the crowd were singing, "Now is the hour," with all its implied lament for the passing of a great match and a great set of tourists. In fact the crowd were singing — though a brass band was playing Morgan's desired tune — "Go home ye bums."
Wealth without stealth
It requires little, if any, reflection to reach the conclusion that Members of Parliament should make a public declaration of their capital and income. A Select Committee of the Commons rejected the idea of a register of Members' interests, as well it might — for it is not necessarily in Members' political interests that their financial interests be made public property. Ian Aitken reports that the Cabinet is having another look at the matter. The idea seems to be that the public should know when MPs are drawing fees for parliamentary and other work done on behalf of outside interests. The public shouid certainly know this; but it should also know a Member of Parliament's capital holdings as well. I would, indeed, go further; and argue that everybody's capital holdings should be public property. Nominee share-holding, for instance, is a thoroughly disreputable practice. When wealth is very unevenly distributed, the common run of people are entitled to know who owns what. Wealth is a privilege in itself, and does not need to be fortified by stealth. The House of Commons should set a good, not a bad, example; and since it evidently requires a lead, the Government should give it one.
Muddled madness
Robert Adley, the Tory Member for Bristol 'North East, has emerged as a leading opponent of the Foulness-Maplin Sands airport. He supports Concorde, as a good Bristol MP is expected to do. He also appears to support a Channel Tunnel. One of his objections to Foulness is that it "makes a farce of regional policy," and another than it " is strategic planning madness now the Channel tunnel decision is imminent." All this seems to me to add up to a very great muddle in Mr Ardley's mind, and possibly also divided loyalties. It is the Channel tunnel, of course, not Foulness, which is "strategic planning madness," and which "makes a farce of regional policy." And if we must have Concorde, which personally I think to be a scandalous misuse of public money and a very costly bribe to France, then surely we ought to be planning for a coastal airport from which it, and its inevitable supersonic successors, can take off and land. Foulness will disturb a few birds, but insofar as there is any right place for an airport Foulness is it. Here, surely, is one issue on which the Government both can and should stand firm. What the Government shonlrl Rico rin is to avoid, at all costs, committing itself to the Channel tunnel. We nave brined France Liun.e enough, indeed far too much, already.
Previous page
