Westminster corridors
Some Days since, 1 had occasion to go out of Town in one of these new-fangled Steam Trains, where I had for my Fellow Traveller a tatty Beau. Having no inclination to Talk much at that,time, I placed myself backward with a design to survey him and pick up some Speculation out of thus observing my Companion.
The Gentleman was dressed in a suit, the Ground whereof had been Black, as I perceived from some few Spaces that had escaped the powder which was Incorporated with the greatest part of his Coat. His Periwig, which cost no small Sum, was after so slovenly, a manner cast .over his Shoulders that it seemed not to have been combed since the Year 1712.
What, I wondered, had caused this person to fall into such disarray. So, overcoming my better judgment, I inquired of him his name and purpose. Sadly, he told me that his name was Mr St John-Stevas and that he had once been a fine Beau; but that his Party at the Club (for he was a Member of it) had fallen on Hard Times.
"Forsooth," quoth I, "not one of the Lincolnshire Hard Times?" He replied in the affirmative, adding that the Lincolnshire Lass (one "Harmony Hair Spray" Thatcher) seemed not so much to be leading the Tories as conducting a series of foreign affairs.
This, added 'Ruby Lips' (for that was the name by which all his Friends called him he vouchsafed), was bad enough for poor Mr Thatcher but it was still worse for the Tory Members of the Club who had elected her with such High Hopes (whatever that might mean).
Being of a generous disposition, I suggested that if the Tories were unhappy with their New Leader they could always recall the Old One — Mr Edward Heath, a visionary. That, said 'Ruby Lips,' was what everyone was now saying but Mr Heath had moved (semi-permanently) to China where he was teaching another aged Politician called Mao how to swim of all things. In return, apparently, Mr Mao was teaching Mr Heath how to cling to power till the very autumn of one's years.
What, I inquired, about Mr 'Comatose' Maudling or the lovable Mr Whitelaw? No, said 'Ruby Lips' rather enigmatically, they had come and gone. The Future lay with the Youth of this Nation, he went on, brightening up noticeably.
It transpired that what the Tories really wanted was a Coalition led by the late and much lamented Lord Home of the Hirsel with those young men of vision, Lord Avon, Mr Macmillan and Lord Hailsham-Hogg-Hailsham in the team. The has-beens like Mrs Thatcher and Mr Heath would no doubt be found 'positions,' if they could be persuaded-to return to this country, that is.
The Position of Mr St John-Stevas in the Scheme of Things was somewhat obscure (in fact he had assumed a semi-recumbent position by this time and I definitely did not want to give him the wrong impression by saying, "Pray rise, Sir," at that particular moment) but I gathered that he was travelling the country 'taking soundings.'
Surely, I observed, there was now a set procedure for the. election of the Leader of the Tory Party. That, he conceded, was indeed so. -But some of us," he insisted ("Are you one of them?" I asked), "are hoping that at next week's Tory Jamboree in Blackpool things will be changed and that a new Leader will emerge by public acclamation."
This left me in some puzzlement. I had always thought that the new systems devised for Tory elections (remember there have been two such systems in the last decade) were meant to do away With 'taking soundings' and the possibility of leaders 'emerging.'
The fact, I mused to myself, was that the old method produced some good leaders and some bad. The strange thing about the new systems is that they do not produce leaders at all; or rather should I say they produce people who do not actually lead.
Back at the Club this week I heard one faithful old Tory Peer protest that a Canadian interviewer had said that Mrs Thatcher sounded just like the Queen. "There is only one Queen in the Tory Party" thundered the Noble Lord from Sutton Benger, "and it certainly is not Harmony Hair Spray."
Tom Puzzle
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