DIARY
DOMINIC LAWSON his column, indeed all of this issue of The Spectator, has been written before the Commons vote on the Maastricht Treaty (which dared not speak its name). We go to press on Wednesday mornings. By the time YOU read this you will know the result. You have the advantage over us. This sort of Problem frequently affects magazines Which come out at the end of the week, Particularly at general elections, which tend to be held on Thursdays. In this year's elec- tion, the Economist, with its penchant for being wise after the event, could not toler- ate appearing to know less yesterday than its readers lcnow today. It devised a fantas- tical plan to enable it to seem omniscient. It worked out that it could hold up its Presses until about 11 p.m. on election night and still get the magazine on to the streets the next morning (Friday). So, in advance, its political writers composed four alternative cover articles, all written as if the result was already known. Article num- ber 1 was based on an overall Labour majority, article number 2 was based on a hung parliament with Labour the biggest Party, article number 3 on a hung parlia- ment with the Conservatives the biggest Party, and article number 4 on an overall Conservative majority. At about 11 o'clock, after the first few results had come in, the BBC rashly and erroneously announced that this meant the Conservatives would have the largest number of seats, but no overall majority. The Economist duly pressed the fatal button and in went article number 3 burbling knowingly about the Prospects for the new minority government. Technology is a wonderful thing, but so is common sense.
Mr Ferdinand Mount breaks wind in the Sunday Telegraph to denounce the 'hys- terical vulgar abuse' allegedly hurled by The Spectator at some members of the Cab- inet. In particular, he objects to Mr Simon Heifer's use of four-letter words. Mr Hef- fet got carried away last week and described Mr John Major as a terk'. Mr Mount, in return, insinuates that the likes Of Mr Heffer are in the mould of the late Sir Oswald Mosley. That is not a vulgar remark, merely an ignorant one. The truth is that Mr Heifer's vitriol is clear water compared to the poison being thrown by Mt Major's acolytes in the press. One such, the Mail on Sunday, describes the anti-Maastricht rebels collectively thus: 'as repulsive as you can find . . . a political underclass'. Individually, Mrs Teresa Gor- man MP is described as 'a suitable case for detoxification treatment' and Mr William Cash MP as 'a reconstituted dalek rather than a member of the human species'. Meanwhile, in the Sunday Express, our
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occasional correspondent, Mr Bruce Anderson, describes the rebels as 'the worst specimens in British public life . . . hyster- ics, half-wits, nincompoops'. Mr Ander- son's own views, at least on race, are in fact on the extreme right of the nincompoop wing of the Conservative Party. But he has always been astute enough to move with the prevailing wind. I recall, in the first stages of the Conservative leadership bat- tle, asking Mr Anderson whether he would stand by his then heroine Margaret Thatch- er. 'Yes, I'll go down with the ship,' Bruce told me, tut I'll be the first up in the life- raft.' And sure enough he was, diligently penning the first official hagiography of Mr John Major.
Meanwhile the Daily Express, in its campaign of vilification against the Euro- sceptics, produced a whole page designed to expose the rebels as a 'ragtag band of political headbangers'. Mr William Cash again received the ultimate insult. He is described as 'an eccentric moralist'. And how is he such an eccentric moralist? Well, the Express points out, 'he is against abor- tion and has also become involved in cam- paigns such as speaking out against sexual promiscuity'. The next bit the Express put in italics to demonstrate the full eccentricity of Mr Cash: 'He attempted to strengthen an Obscene Publication Bill by specifying that human sexual activity, genitals, urination and excretion should not be shown on television.' What an eccentric indeed! Clearly the Express is right, such a moralist has no place in Mr Major's modern Conservative Party.
The last time that I occupied this page I commented on the financial fantasies of a magazine called Business Age which, among other things, overstated the net worth of
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the Lawson family household by approxi- mately £5 million. Now Business Age and its intrepid reporter, Kevin Cahill, are at it again. They have discovered — or so they say — that there are up to 90,000 million- aires in Britain. I have no idea whether the magazine is right in this calculation. Its track record is hardly encouraging. None the less it is true that the word 'millionaire' has become greatly devalued by inflation. It is used colloquially and in newspapers to describe people such as Richard Branson and Lord Rothschild. Yet as a word, or as a sum, it doesn't even cover their annual investment income, let alone their capital. To describe such people as a 'millionaire' is like calling Lord Hanson 'a company direc- tor'. I imagine that in Japan and Italy the word 'millionaire' is simply not used since almost everyone must be yen or lire mil- lionaires. But there are few if any British billionaires. Some intermediate word or sum needs to be invented to distinguish Sir James Goldsmith from the Revd Alan Carefull, the aptly-named vicar of Hel- boughton, who, the Telegraph reported on Wednesday, left £1,057,910 in his will.
Afew weeks ago the Mortgage Corpo- ration notified a friend of mine to say that it would be levying an extra charge of £17.61 to cover the extra interest on his mortgage attributable to the existence of 29 February 1992. My friend replied: Thank you for your communication advising me that you are levying a £17.61 charge on me to pay the extra interest on my mortgage allegedly generated by the extra day for leap year. I would have thought most intelligent mortgagees would have priced their loans according to the number of leap years occur- ring during the life of the mortgage. It strikes me as something of an afterthought on your part, too, since it has taken you almost eight months after the event to expropriate the sum from me; and yet, had you looked into the matter, you would have found it has been generally assumed since the alteration of the calendar in 1752 that there would be 366 days in 1992. Perhaps, as an extension of your breathtaking nerve, you would like to write to my employer and ask him to pay me an extra day's salary to compensate me for my addi- tional labours during the leap year. My build- ing society also tells me that the extra day has no bearing on the amount of interest they pay me on my deposits with them, so, while you are at it, you might like to have a word with them too.
An interesting exercise that: to work out the total profits made by banks and build- ing societies in receiving interest for 366 days, but paying interest only on 365. If Norman Lamont is desperately looking around for an excuse to inflict a windfall profit tax on banks, here it is.
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