DIARY
DEREK DRAPER When Tony Blair spoke of socialism I never realised quite how social the new Labour life would be. All I seem to have done all week is go to parties, so apologies if this reads like an It-girl column. Of course, one reason why we have to have so many parties is because of our ridiculous licensing laws. But the tide of modernisa- tion may yet reach Britain's pubs. Blair's favourite think tank, the Fabians, are plan- ning to publish a pamphlet calling for drinking time to be extended. Out in November, it cannot come a moment too soon. This Thursday, a group of us left the Frank magazine launch party and ended up in a Soho drinking den. Within half an hour our panicked host switched off the lights and turned down the music. 'The police!' he cried. 'You must hide under the tables.' So I, a broadsheet leader writer and a senior government adviser knelt cowering until the all-clear was given. All this to have a glass of wine at quarter past midnight. I call on all readers to unite and fight behind the Fabian banner.
Things are stirring in Xanadu. This week saw a high-powered seminar to dis- cuss the Millennium Dome (or 'Experi- ence', as Peter Mandelson insists we call it). Populism seemed the order of the day, with the likes of Piers Morgan, editor of the Mir- ror, and Waheed Alli of the hip television company Planet 24 contributing ideas direct to the Minister without Portfolio. But Mandelson isn't relying on brainstorm- ing; he has a secret weapon. He has con- vinced Sam Chisholm, former boss of Sky TV, to take over as deputy chairman. The tough Australian (who saw off Kelvin MacKenzie) turned Sky around through sheer strength of personality. Over a year ago I bumped into him as he waited at a House of Commons entrance. 'I'm here to see Peter Mandelson,' he drawled to the policeman. Overhearing, I piped up, 'Oh, I work for Peter. Who are you?' Mind your own fucking business,' he snarled back. I've no doubt he'll use the same diplomacy with contractors, civil servants and even minis- ters themselves to make the Dome the suc- cess it will eventually be. He's certainly the only person I've met who manages to scare Peter Mandelson.
The devolution result (which people should remember is the start of the debate, not the end) was a triumph for Millbank Tower. The (much depleted) campaign HQ played a critical role in Scotland, with New Labour managers never quite trusting their comrades north of the border. Rumour has it that the policy unit there is down to just one person, with ministers now reliant on civil servants, not party hacks. But those on the Left who claim Millbank is the centre of all evil are in for a shock. Labour's National Executive has decided to close down its Elephant and Castle HQ and move all its staff to the Thames-side Tower. From there the great political battle of the future will be fought — no, not the referen- dum on EMU but the selection of candi- dates for the 1999 European elections. Labour's Left have yet to appreciate the consequences of the decision to use PR for those elections. As one party official joked last week, PR = PuRge.
The significance of devolution is only just dawning on some in the government. Once we have a Scottish parliament it will be an alternative power base for Labour's vast 'Jock mafia'. But for how long will English voters (and party members) put up with so many Scottish faces around the Cabinet table? Of course one would hope that some might follow the logic of their politics and decamp to Edinburgh. Donald Dewar has already said, 'London is a closed book to me, I just work and camp there. I have the mark of Scotland on me.' Those who choose to stay should pause to consid- er: once we get used to our devolved ways what are the chances of a Scot succeeding Tony Blair? Nae very high, I would suggest.
While Scotland celebrated I attended a very different sort of bash: the launch of the Daily Star's web site at the Hanover Grand nightclub, not the kind of event where one is likely to bump into fellow New Labourites. Discussion centred on the most ridiculous place one had had sex. My claim to fame (the roof of one of Her Majesty's embassies in Eastern Europe) was soon kicked into touch. Alastair (not Campbell, before you get excited) had had sex while bungee-jumping naked in Thai- land. 'Did it stay in?' we inquired, with bated breath. 'Yes,' he replied, before pausing: 'for half a second.' Our attention was then diverted by the arrival of a page three girl, Jo Guest. Odd that in all the rev- elry I didn't spot the Star's proprietor, the strait-laced Blair adviser and Labour peer Clive Hollick. Perhaps he was hidden behind the girl with the size 48 breasts.
The next night I threw my own party to launch my book, Blair's Hundred Days. At one point it looked as if more Tories than Labour people were going to turn up John Whittingdale MP and the stunning Rachel Whetstone, adviser to Michael Howard, to name but two. Alan Duncan had accepted my invitation but couldn't make it in the end. Perhaps he was too busy advising William Hague on his next shrewd media move. I knew Duncan's judgment was suspect when a friend came back from a by-election with a photo of the Rutland MP in a compromising position. My friend, (who happens to be slim, blonde and attractive) had managed to persuade the Tories' supposed 'minder' to wear a Vote Labour sticker on his forehead. Sadly The Spectator Diary doesn't carry photos, so you'll have to take my word for it. Still, Tory interest in the book does seem keen. Faber and Faber have told me that Conser- vative Central Office has ordered 100 copies, one for every Tory MP!
Talking of MPs in compromising posi- tions, the huge Labour majority has led to many new MPs bunking off, especially in the afternoons. A friend of mine caught three of the new intake watching male strippers in a West End cinema last week. Before the News of the World gets excited, they were watching The Full Monty, nothing spicier. The tale reminded me of what I still hold to be the most astonishing sight of my life. One rainy afternoon my then girlfriend and I decided to go and see Who Framed Roger Rabbit?. As we found our seats we noticed a hunched figure, all alone, eyes fixed on the screen, dipping his hand repeatedly into the largest tub of popcorn I'd ever seen. I can still hardly believe the identity of our fellow skiver — shadow Chancellor the Right Honourable John Smith MP.
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