Pure but Impotent
We arrived at Broadcasting House in plenty of time. I always enjoy coming here, reminds me of those great exit polls projected onto the building — that I knew even back then, were the beginning of our long march to freedom.
The token Blairite NOLSie (National Organisation of Labour Students aka Stalinists) was already there, merely grunting “Esmond” when we arrived, neglecting to tear his eyes away from his twitter feed. His aide was far-friendlier, but then it was Peter Mandelson.
We made our way downstairs to the studio and I was delighted to find a free bar. Mandy made some quip about trots and their endearing enthusiasm for free stuff which I thought was rather sweet.
Squiffy seemed a little agitated and I couldn’t work out if it was about the sinister presence of the Dark Lord or your “average man down the pub” Zac Goldsmith, who was the other guest waiting patiently in the green room.
A rather awkward twenty minutes followed. Lord Mandelson (he didn’t seem keen on Mandy) challenged me on Jezza’s response to Cameron’s EU renegotiation — like a scorned lover were his exact words. At my radio silence, he resorted to playing a game of chess against himself as the producer arrived to carry our young protégés away.
“Good luck” I said to Squiffy. She smiled and headed off into the studio followed closely by Esmond who tripped up probably not as many times as I would have expected, considering he never lifted his eyes from his phone.
And so Lord Mandelson and I with our cognac — neither the two of us nor Zac were particularly keen on what the BBC had on offer so we ordered in — sat back to enjoy the show.
“Some guacamole with your Spanish potato crisps?” Mandelson offered. He’s really not so bad.
The mighty Evan did his typical — why take a minute to ask a question when you can take plenty more — which was something about disloyalty in the PLP towards the leader. The question was to Esmond but naturally Squiffy got in first.
“I don’t have a problem with disloyalty, as long as it’s principled.”
“Well how can you tell?” Esmond snapped. “Why do you assume all Blairites are unprincipled you sycophant?”
“Who you calling a sycophant? Look this is not about the PLP. This is about the grassroots movement we are building town by town, street by street…”
“And cliché by cliché” was Mandelson’s retort from the green room.
The debate continued — Squiffy became increasingly agitated;
‘Jeremy can finally rid us of years of Tory rule under Thatcher and Blair. And emulate great Labour Prime Ministers like Bevan and Lloyd George.’
By this point I was receiving some gleeful side-eye from Mandy, though he may have been winking — I couldn’t really tell.
‘This is the new politics, this is about a more inclusive party. Momentum is rooted in every community…”
‘…in the Militant Tendency more-like’, added Mandy.
“…Doing the work of the trade unions — who don’t seem to do anything these days….”
“Ooh solidarity comrade…”, added Esmond.
“Did he just show her the finger?” I asked Mandy from the green room, who no longer seemed to be paying much attention, having become fixated by some guacamole he had spilt on his chinos.
‘Look Evan,” Squiffy continued, “I am here as a Labour supporter. I have been a loyal party member for years — check the marked register — I even voted for us in 2015!’
“Of great personal sacrifice I am sure…”
“Maybe we should hear a little more about my comrade Esmond’s past? Shall we hear a tweet he sent back in 2014? “Beautiful carving on the Ed Stone. Firm and dependable stroke just like Ed #HellYes”.”
“What’s your point?” Esmond replied, clearly affronted.
“My point comrade” Squiffy began through gritted teeth, “is your mindless unprincipled loyalty. That is why the Blairites lost.”
“Errr.. Didn’t Labour lose?” Evan interjected.
“Yes. Yes exactly. Her lot wanted that!” Esmond was now pointing his iphone at Squiffy. “Pure but impotent Attlee said! That’s your lot in a nutshell!”
“I didn’t want us to lose!”
Turning to Evan, Esmond seemed resolved to cease to acknowledge his fellow guest. “Disagreement is not always disloyalty — Corbyn is simply wrong on the vast majority of things”.
“Our democratically elected leader?” Snapped Squiffy.
“Elected by a bunch of entryists.”
“Huzzah!” cheered Mandy from the green room.
“Oh fuck off” replied Squiffy back in the studio.
“Language please! It may be after the watershed and this isn’t Channel 4 but still…” Pleaded Evan in vain.
“Sorry. Fuck off comrade.”
Esmond in panic turned his frustrations to Evan; “Are you going to overrule her?”
“Jeremy’s clear there’s no place for bullying and abuse in the party.’ Squiffy continued, ‘It’s all coming from those Blairite dickheads”.
“Who’s the dickhead, you’re the dickhead.”
And with that the impartial BBC called an end to it — the guests’ mouths were moving but no sound was heard. Squiffy saw an opportunity and thus jumped up on her chair presenting a Palestine flag that she had apparently sneaked in about her person, before Edmund rugby-tackled her to the ground and it all became slightly erotic.
Mandy finally looked up from his current project — crossing people off his will — meeting Zac’s eyes across the green room he coolly remarked,
“Eyes on the prize Goldsmith. Eyes on the prize.”