THE SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK

One hears strange things these days, like, for instance, the word now going around that. Geoffrey Rippon, of all people, is become even more devoted to the cause of British entry into the Common Market .than his chief Mr Heath. If this meant that the Prime Minister was becoming even slightly disen- chanted what excellent news it would make.

If all it means is that Rippon, in the course of pursuing our application, has in some mir- aculous fashion become more enamoured of his European opposite numbers than he was before he embarked upon the diplomacy, then people like myself will have had our judgment of Rippon proved wrong. Several had, some still have, thought of him as a very likely sometime leader of the Conserv- ative party. It may be that his ambition, which is very great and none the gorse for that, now drives him forward urgently to make a success of whatever he attempts, and that the desire for a success overwhelms his better political judgment, which has hitherto always insisted that an alternative policy, in the event of the British application for what- ever reason failing, should be prepared.

Rippon's strategy

Tipping remains of the. essence; and there's no reason whatever to doubt that the object of the marketeers is to secure some sort of parliamentary endorsement of whatever terms Rippon brings back before the summer recess. In other words, the marketeers want the crucial. decision .to be taken before the next party conferences; for the Government marketeers are uneasily aware that the Labour conference could swing massively -against the union, changing Labour-policy so that it became possible even for Labour's most ardent marketeers to bow to the will of the party; and leaving thf Conservative confer- ence in the 'following week to make what it could of an entirely new, political situation in which the party consensus on the, Market had been utterly broken.

This overall strategy could, however, fail:* for. supposing, as we must, that the cam- paign for a referendum on the Market will fail. it still remains possible for the Labour Party to §ummon a special party conference to determine its attitude with some demo- cratic appearance.

Promises of strife

Not only in politics, with. the Industrial Relations Bill dividing the parties and the Common Market dividing the nation, does 1971 promise to be filled with strife. Fleet Street, too, now accepts that dogs will do 'their best to eat dogs come the New Year.

Tony Miles, editor-designate.of the Daily Mirror, is in no doubt about this. It has generally been understood that he was to take up his appointment officially in March; but in fact_he will move into the editor's seat (in which he has, naturally, already had some practice) at the end of January. Lee Howard, present editor, most gentlemanly of men, is ,quietly resisting the efforts of I'C'S top man; 'akement to persuade him to take a trip around the world. This, quite-rightly, he can- not be bothered to do. He will settle for ten days or a fortnight visiting old friends in New York and California at the beginning of February, then back home. Will he there- after drop in, from time to time, at 33 Hol- born; headquarters of" the Daily Mirror? He wilt. not. He is- unlikely ever to set foot in the place again.

Cudiipp to the rescue?

Which will leave Tony Miles to discoVer-an answer-to Rupert Murdoch's Sun, edited with great panache, by one of Tony's old col- leagues (and juniors) Larry Lamb. -Helping out, if that will prove to be the word, will of course be the great old-stager himself. Hugh Kinsman Cudlipp, last heard of safari-ing in Kenya. Cudlipp's task is twofold: to justify giving the Sun to Murdoch: and to sustain' the Daily Mirror's adherence to its unpopu- lar policies on the Common Market and on. industrial relations. Can he fulfil both tasks? Or even one? Read next year's thrilling instalments.

The Mirror and the Sun people are agreed on one matter: that if and when the Sun circulation, now over 1,800,000 and still rising, against the national trend. exceeds two million, then advertisers will start look- ing at the Sun (and at the Mirror) in entirely new ways. Ironically, the spring battle be- tween the Mirror and The Sun may squeeze the rather gallant third tabloid, the Sketch, to death, in which event the beneficiary may well be the Express—politics taking prefer- ence over tabloid shape.

More Georgiana

I heard the other day a story of Lord George-Brown which, whether apocryphal or not, establishes what is undoubtedly the case: that lie possesses not only a degree of cour- age amounting to bravado, but also some underlying prudence, a degree of foresight desirable in a politician.

"Scabs!"

- When in Egypt attempting to do some- thing about the Middle East mess, he said he wanted to see the Canal and visit the British sailors still, then, marooned on their boats in the Bitter Lakes. The Egyptians de- murred, but George persisted. He can be very persiStent. They said-. they would have to arrange for an armoured car. George waited. No armoured car. At last, charac- teristically exasperated, he said to a journal- ist (reportedly from the me) who had a car, 'Let's go'. So they drove across the desert, saw the. Canal. and visited the marooned sailors in theaBitter Lakes. They returned to Cairo to receive the justified congratulations of one and all for their brave efforts.

Later. George subsequently confided: 'It was not as brave as all that. I had taken fhe • precaution of cabling Golda Meir telling her to lay off the bombing during the time I was proposing to make the visit'.

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Doctors' language

The consultant I mentioned a couple of weeks ago on the subject of the seasonal admission of chaps into bins, seeking during the winter a centrally heated refuge from the rigours outside, came up to me a couple of days ago. quite by chance, and said how glad he was that I had got his words right. I would not normally mention this, except that the Editor has received several unctuous letters com- plaining about my use of such phrases as 'loony bins' and so forth when dealing with poor unfortunate sufferers ,from mental disorders and so forth.

One such letter-writer revealed himself to have been an exact contemporary of mine at Cambridge. and it was, therefore, with mounting horror that I read his rebuke; and total disbelief that I read his comment that doctors never use such language.

The language doctors use among them- selves or with their friends is, in my expel', ience (which. is .quite wide), extremely ac- curate and therefdre coarse; not to say brutak The pretence that doctors go around among themselves and with their friends talking about the unfortunate sufferers of mental disorders and the maladjusted. is as fraud- ulent as the pretence that politicians in like circumstances go around 'talking of their constituents as intelligent beings, or that the left really (which is to say privately) talks as if it cares about the deprived, or the colour- conscious racists as if they really cared about the blacks. or nignogs, as people (like or un- like themselves), as chaps, not blacks, not symbols. From time to time, when people' like myself attempt to use the language people really use. we can depend upon it to find ourselves abused by hypocrite% and by those who live in de:odorised ivory towers.

Patients, also

It. is. not as if the expected squeamishness was shared, or desired, by the nut-cases themselves. I have no shame. in conceding that I am asthmatic: and if, as everyone says nowadays. being potty is the same sort of thing as being, say, cancerous, tuberculous. or asthmatic. then I cannot see why the nutty ones, and the fruity onet, should expect a particular benevolence of language not re- ceived by those who suffer from ailments less susceptible to euphemistic treatment.

I write this, however, in an ill frame of mind, having had superimposed upon a com- mon although severe enough cold my second, Or booster, influenza jab. Iam by no means convinced that Ags:ase of influenza the prevention is n than the disease,