Gertsamtkunstwerk

Sunday night

I went out last night. I love it when you've stood at Stockwell for nearly 37 minutes, and are suddenly building up hope, what with the Dot Matrix indicator saying "Edgware via Bank 1" to see a scrolling marquee announcing "Please avoid the Northern Line due to severe delays. Tickets accepted on local buses..." It poses a real dilemma. Do I get this train coming, and live in fear of there being no connecting service at Kennington, or do I follow instructions and get the bus, even though there's a perfectly adequate Victoria Line running just yards behind me. I worked out my strategy. Fortunately, a Charing X train turned up immediately at Kennington. Phew!

There's a screen at Brixton that tells you when there are delays on lines. It's super-douper 21st century state of the art, quite possibly up-to-the-minute, centrally controlled and widely distributed piece of information. But like everyone else, I prefer the intermediate tech of the colour coded whiteboard and its enigmatic messages - Passenger Incident, Faulty Train, Driver's Teabreak. I made the last one up.

I met up with my friends and we proceeded to enjoy the English National Opera's Gala in aid of the ENO Pension Fund. Two, maybe three, world-class singers, plus an impressive array of has-beens, also-rans and wannabes. Not to mention an illustrious line-up of no-shows. Perhaps I shall write more at length, but I'm not really sure what, other than "it was enjoyable; the Gilbert and Sullivan was terminably naff; I really can do without 'Opera in English';". Highlights - Simon "Shirtless" Keenlyside opened up with something from Pagliacci before, presumably, pulling on his leathers, mounting his motorbike and speeding off into the sunset up the M4; the party from Traviata - okay the bullfight scene was a bit contrived and English but it all came together. The soprano, Linda Richardson, was rather lovely, and by supreme serendipity I had just hours previously booked a fun Raymond Gubbay Opera Gala at the Barbican, with her in the line-up, so that's good! The tenor was Wynne Evans. Not top drawer but definitely worth a mention of praise.

The highlight and the lowlight managed to combine in one ensemble, the Soave sia Il vento (from Cosi) where the mezzo manage to be so totally off pitch it was astounding, and then suddenly, this gorgeous baritone comes out shiningly sublime in that wonderful phrase (much more gorgeous than on the not-to-be-sniffed-at recording I have indoors - the Karl Böhm set, where Walter Berry is the Don Alfonso). The baritone in question was the lovely Gerald Finley, taking this on at short notice after Sir Thomas "Don Alfonso" Allen cancelled. It was one of those moments-to-be-cherished that make all the indifferent and mediocre nights out well worth it. So when Tom retires, or retires Don Alfonso, will Gerald be stepping in?

Afterwards, it being a fund-raiser a whole collection of celebrity charity muggers posed with collecting buckets. It's on occasions like this that you do really start to wonder about the Great British Public. Michael Portillo had been specifically thanked from the stage for heading up the committee. As we were going down the stairs, I overheard this woman saying "I wonder if Michael Portillo's going to be there with collecting bucket". One of her friends pointed out that he was actually very visible near the front door with a preposterously bright blue shirt and brilliant tie. Later he was seen with collecting bucket, so this woman - would you believe it -, to the obvious disdain of her friends, actually went and put her money in Portillo's bucket, and was rewarded (?) with an Ooze of Portillo-esque charm. Later, when this same woman was leaving the pub, she spotted the selfsame Portillo crossing over towards Trafalgar Square.

Some of us, with long memories, shudder.

One thing I can't understand about the Northern Line. why is it, even in the evenings, even on a Sunday evening, there are more City trains than West End trains. It makes sense during the day, but the City's almost dead at night at weekends, and it's a pain waiting for a Charing X train that turns up packed to the rafters, and then having to change at Kennington.

A right worth fighting for

Time to speak up

It's not an issue that bothers me personally. I have never had an abortion and never will. I have never even contemplated having one,except in abstract intellectual terms.

ButI still think it's a right to fight for. Not for my sake, but for the 25% of women who have had abortions.

Abortion - The facts

· The 1967 Abortion Act made abortion legal in the UK up to 28 weeks gestation. In 1990, the law was amended: abortion is now legal only up to 24 weeks except in cases where it's necessary to save the life of the woman, there's evidence of extreme foetal abnormality or there is grave risk of physical or mental injury to the woman.

· Abortions after 24 weeks are extremely rare, accounting for 0.1% of all abortions (fewer than 200 a year).

· The act does not extend to Northern Ireland. Abortion is only legal there if the life or the mental or physical health of the woman is at "serious risk". There are no clear guidelines, however, and provision depends on the moral outlook of individual doctors.

· In 2004/05, 64 women had an abortion in Northern Ireland, according to the Family Planning Association.

· In 2005, 1,164 women from Northern Ireland travelled to England for an abortion. Women travelling from Northern Ireland for an abortion cannot have them on the NHS.

· According to the Department of Health, the total number of abortions in England and Wales last year was 186,400 (compared with 185,700 in 2004 - a rise of 0.4%).

· The abortion rate was highest, at 32 per 1,000, for women in the 20-24 age group.

· The rate for under-16s was just 3.7 per 1,000 women and the under-18 rate 17.8 per 1,000 women, both the same as in 2004.

· 89% of abortions were carried out when the foetus was less than 13 weeks old; 67% at under 10 weeks.

· 1,900 abortions (1%) were classified as having been carried out because of a risk that the child would be born with disabilities.

· According to pro-choice campaign groups, 1.6% of abortions fit the classification "late-term", being performed at 20 weeks or more.

· Scotland keeps its own statistics and in 2005 there were 12,603 abortions performed, compared to 12,461 in 2004.

Our telly's broke

I think it's just the switch. It went a year or so ago, and we got a good ticking off for leaving the TV on standby. We do that seldom now, and never overnight or when we're out, partly because we're trying to save the planet* but mainly because we want to save the telly.

In all the years of being in possession of TV I've never had a switch go. There was the hilarious incident of the Remote Control. Basically, I had a TV remote control that wouldn't control the TV. I did all the sensible things like changing the batteries, checking the battery contacts, wiping the transmitting bit, wiping the receiving bit, borrowing a friend's remote control, and it still wouldn't work. So I called the repair man. I was given a slot of two-six, which was less than ideal, because being that this was the last Monday in April 1997, there were a great number of envelopes to stuff at the nerve centre. And a Governors' meeting at 6.30.

Five to six, no repair man, so I ring up, stressing that I was a very important Chair of Governors of a doomed school with a key meeting "with the Education authority at 6.30". At five past six, repair man turns up, takes one look at my gender and says "Have you changed the batteries?" I explained all the steps I had taken so he went to the corner shop to get some new batteries. Surprise surprise, the remote didn't work. So he declared that I needed a new remote but he didn't carry one on the van. I explained that my friend's didn't work either, so he said he would drop off a new remote control tomorrow morning. I don't think so, I said, I'm having my photo taken with Glenda Jackson tomorrow morning** He didn't know who Glenda Jackson was.

The next day, following my date with Glenda, I phoned up and they promised a repair man on Wednesday. I don't think so, I said, I've got thousands of leaflets to deliver, so we agreed Thursday. I promised there would be *someone* in all day.

Mid-afternoon, a different repair man arrived and was rather overwhelmed by the pictures of Keith Hill and Tony Blair on my front door, the evidence of organised chaos that typified a Committee Room*** and the splendid finger buffet that awaited all visitors. I explained the saga and he said "I think there's probably a broken connection," took the TV apart, fiddled around in that mysterious way that repair men do and, hey presto, a functioning remotely controlled TV. The afternoon news was on, a bit strange on Official No News Day, with reports from the polls, early exits predicting a Labour victory, possibly even with a working majority. "Lady Olga Maitland's my MP," he said. "I expect she'll get back in again." He didn't seem too upset at that. Having consumed the Guardian book of the election I knew we weren't targeting Sutton and Cheam, I afforded him a magnanimous smile. When he had gone, the assorted comrades agreed that the Tories losing Sutton and Cheam would be like an unprecedented political revolution. Lady Olga Maitland, where is she now...?

Meanwhile half an hour ago I settled down to watch last night's The Amazing Mrs Pritchard. Look, I know, my BA(Hons) is in Politics. It's ludicrous patronising tosh with very little political understanding or appreciation. But what else to expect from the media. But it is pretty entertaining if you set aside absolutely everything you have learnt about the British Political System.

As a by the way, my Esteemed Employer, in a corporate sense, entertained various editors of Women's magazines recently and said editors were interviewed about, amongst other things, their impressions of Esteemed Employer. There seemed to be a consensus on the gorgeousness of the building, but would you believe that quite a few of them were surprised it wasn't full of men in grey suits. I'm not sure what century, or parallel universe, they live in, but are there any workplaces of any significant size that is stuffed with men in grey suits? We even have some minority ethnic people. And people with disabilities. And gay people, too.

I still don't understand why I suddenly can't record Five on the Sky+. Well, I can, but it sticks and jumps. Sky very nicely talked me through how to defrag the Sky+ box. This, apparently, should be done every few months, but it doesn't come in the standard instructions. Presumably because Sky have decided its customers are too thick to follow simple instructions without being talked through them on the phone. Seems pretty much Sky corporate policy - for heaven's sake don't ever give the public thefull facts.

With no telly I should probably go to bed early.

* or to be strictly accurate, murder it less quickly
** was anybody else there? Does anybody have a copy of that photo?
*** I know, I know Campaign Centre. I'm Old Labour. Get over it.

Vanity googling

Letter: Women don't vote by gender Sex appeal won't buy votes Independent, The (London) - Find Articles

This vaguely rings a bell. What I don't understand is that I just gave my name, and omitted my rank. I think at the time I was chair of Association of London Government (ALG)'s Women's sub-committee.

Bizarre

Your article "Tony and the women" (10 November) was a fascinating analysis of women's voting intentions broken down by age. It was also pointless. The whole premise and the tone of the argument was governed by an unstated assumption of maleness being the norm and femaleness being abnormal, unusual and therefore worthy of analysis in its own right. A similar article analysing the political attitudes of men in such a superficial and generalised way would rightly have been called irrelevant. I would be surprised if any woman bases her voting on her gender. Objective factors such as education, employment experience, geographical location, wealth and public services are more important. Equally insulting is the idea that some women will vote Labour because of Mr Blair's apparent sex appeal. This is worse than the arguments that say women only watch football because of the supposed sex-appeal of players.

I have never found an article suggesting that men voted for the Tories because of Margaret Thatcher's sex appeal.

And I never realised that Lesley Abdela cited me in her response.

The Straw Veil

Ooh, Jack's set the cat among the pigeons.

Too bloody right. Personally, I'd like to ban them, even though I know that it isn't possible to do so (without banning scarves wrapped round to keep warm on a cold day, without banning scarves worn to hide facial disfigurement).

Why are these women covering their faces, their entire bodies? Some bloke on the telly, chairman of Blackburn Mosques or whatever, said it's because people shouldn't show their face to people they can marry. Ironic really, considering he was showing his face to millions on TV.

Oh, he meant women. Don't worry mate, I really didn't fancy you. Never crossed my mind to get damp with lust.

'People they can marry'. Bit euphemistic really. I think he meant shag. Can't allow his little woman to be looked on by another man in case he gets an uncontrollable urge to shag her. Well, I've met Jack Straw on a number of occasions, and we chatted, and he seemed a nice bloke, friendly, not overly warm. I didn't think he was eyeing me up and down, lusting after me, struggling to control an irresistible urge to shag me. I'm sure Jack Straw's as red-blooded as the next man*, he encounters women all the time, not especially being women, just being constituents, colleagues, shop assistants, opponents, people-in-the-street. Jack Straw isn't the type of loser who puts women down. Doesn't need to. He's busy, intelligent and confident, with a wife at least equally so.

My mother has a couple of friends who are IBVM nuns. They've been friends for sixty years. They went to a conference in Oldham about Religious Women. The nuns, that is, not my mother. There was a woman there clad head-to-foot in the veil thing, and the other women challenged her, why are you dressed like that. She came out with stuff about modesty, about holiness. So, she's in a womanspace, not any women, but specifically religious women, being all ecumenical. So it can't be about the marriage thing, because, among women, that should render the veil thing unnecessary. (It would be sheer evil to throw Civil Partnerships onto the table).

I am torn, there is a libertarian argument. You see, I hate tattoos. I don't like seeing bodies covered in tattoos. I would never have one done. I find them unsightly, and I ponder the stage at which the tattoo-wearer will regret them. But regardless of my personal feelings, if a sober adult wants to get tattooed, fine. Freedom, your body, your choice. None of my business.

If someone wants to wear ill-fitting clothes with their underwear on the outside, permit me to deride. But please, carry on doing so. Your right.

So why should I feel differently about the veil in all its different forms? Walk into a bank and see the signs saying 'remove motorcycle helmet'. We know the reasons why. Why retain face-covering veil, then. If I was to do a bank job, I'd do it in Moslem garb. Or shoplift. What are you hiding? Shopping centres ban hoodies (which I don't agree with, but it happens), so do they ban Moslem veils, too?

But I wish Jack would stick his neck out further and say "Veils are demeaning to women and insulting to men, because you're dysfunctionally sex-obsessed."

In Cairo, the capital of an Arab, predominantly and officially Islamic country, we were given a tour by an Egyptologist, who explained that in Cairo about half the women cover their heads for religious reason. Some are Christian and some are Moslem. She explained that she was a practising Moslem. Her head was uncovered. I know some highly educated and intelligent women in Britain cover their heads as a political statement, but I also believe that the majority who cover their faces are subjugated to men: economically dependent, intellectually subordinated and physically intimidated, by threat or action. There is a long standing tradition in Britain that when you deal face-to-face with people you uncover your face. Unless you have something to hide, unless you are lying.

I see no reason whatsoever to defend a custom which is explicitly about putting women down. I'm not interested in multi-culturalism when it treads on women's rights**. And I'm certainly not interested in tolerating religions, when for centuries they have been controlled by men who are frightened of women and their sexuality and thus use their physical and economic power to oppress women. I don't believe in repatriation, and I celebrate the sheer diversity of British people, culture, cuisine, life. But every time I see a woman in a veil, I see a sign saying "British men are all rapists who can't be trusted to control their raging hard-ons at the sight of a naked face."

* okay the next man happens to be John Prescott

** nor when it treads on gay rights, either (but I'm intolerant of that section of gay male culture which is overtly misogynist)

Real Tories...

State school pupils are 'potted plants', says Tory

Jacob Rees-Mogg, who will be fighting one of the Tories' target seats at the next election, also gave the impression that he thinks that anyone educated in the state sector is incapable of writing an "articulate" letter.

They still don't understand why they are so hated...

Rumours from Westminster Village

Rumour has it that David "Dave" Cameron and George "The Boy" Osborne have had a massive falling out.

I know, I know, half of you are saying "Who?"; the rest are saying "Who cares?"

Cancel Today

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, a young and much-loved Leader of the Opposition appeared on Desert Island Discs to choose his eight favourite records. Legend has it he was egged on by a friend who worked in PR for a record company, or something don't regard this an authoratitive source and chose an unknown song by an unknown band.

In a bizarre twist of fate, what came on my mp3 player this evening on the way home? Of nearly 4,000 tracks it could have chosen, it chose this wonderful track by Ezio...

Pull back the curtains
Let the sunlight stream in
And let it light up your eyes
And lay its warmth upon your skin

Come over here
Just lay for a while
Let's do nothing
And let's do it with style

And run where you should be now tomorrow
Just run where you should be now tomorrow

I could bring you some tea
And something to eat
Then we'll step over the bills
And down into the street

And walk down the road
Or drive to the sea
We'll do what you want
Please do it with me

And run where you should be now tomorrow
Just run where you should be now tomorrow

I could call up your work
And say you're not well enough to go
As long as we're both discreet
No I really don't think that they will ever know

And there's no work for me
No and the world stops turning when you're not here
And it's good that your're free
You say I'm your man
Well now he needs you near

So run where you should be now tomorrow
Just run where you should be now tomorrow

Just run away
Can't face you getting up and leaving today
Is there anyway that I'll convince you to stay
To stay
To stay
Today...
Let's cancel today

It has never been established whether the Right Hon Tone - for it were he - is actually a fan of Ezio. If so, he might have had thoughts of this song this morning.

Tom Watson resigns

This is not a good day to be at work. Lots happening, glimpses on BBC News 24. No time to absorb or blog it.

Tom's resignation letter

Tom's blog, not (yet) updated.

I left him a comment, not (yet) approved. Congratulating him on not being the cyncial unprincipled careerist hack I had him down to be...

And then there's nothing quite like a disgruntled ex-minister

Fears over nuclear terror threat

I agree

Tony Blair and 1990

MMofM has been a politics-free zone for too long.

Time to up the ante.

I will state now: I like Tony Blair. I have a lot of criticisms of him. Regarding the war in Iraq, I will never forgive him. Blood on his hands. What is most frustrating is that he still believes it was the 'right' thing to do. And in some stupid way I think he is genuine. I find his idealistic belief of doing the 'right' thing to be worse than cynical stupid arrogant power-crazy Bush willy-waving.

And I'm angry at the way that Tony has squandered such goodwill from the electorate, and has allowed the unconscionable foreign policy to dominate political discourse at the expense of the Domestic Agenda.

I don't subscribe to the pendulum theory of electoral politics. It's too simple a psephology. Most people don't radically change their views, principles or policies. What does change is the emphasis people put on different aspects; turn-out can affect an election result; also the willingness to vote for the third party, rather than one's favoured, to get rid of the 'other' party.

And there is oppositionalism. Some of it positive: in a democracy is it vital that people scrutinise and criticise all those that hold power. It is possible to do that and stay loyal, it is also possible to do that and change allegiance. There is also a negative, nihilist, anti-everything standpoint. "I don't like what The Government is doing so I'll carp from the sidelines but not offer a sensible alternative". Regardless of who 'The Government' is.

In Autumn 1990, I watched the fall of Thatcher. At the time with barely disguised glee. Although I later realised that the toppling of Thatch was crucial to the Tories winning the 1992 election.

To put it simply, Tony has to go. He said years ago he did not want to go on and on like Thatch, living an increasingly surreal existence divorced from the concerns of the population, deluded and illusional, unnaysayable and trapped in a belief in their own insuperability.

There is so much that has been achieved by the Labour Government since 1997, stuff that people take for granted and then say, in the same breath, "What's this government done ?".

Some of it has been inadequate to achieve what was intended. Some of it has brought about unintended consequences. Some has been misguided despite its worthiness. Some has had inevitable consequences, and politics is often about the electorate's view of whether the consequences are worth the remedy (eg healthy economy leads to more economic immigration).

But the Labour Government has not run out of ideas (possibly the criticism remains that there too many ideas), is not bending in the wind to pick up every passing fad, bereft of substance, like the Tories, and isn't a rudderless leaderless irrelevance like the LibDims.

The personality of the Leader shouldn't matter for a political party. But it does. And it's time for a change at the top.

Oh, there's a relevant link here: Minister joins Blair exit demands

Anyone dare go over to Tom Watson's blog and shout "Splitter!"?

Me, the ex-Minister and the Blue Rubber Gloves

It continued being exciting throughout the day as the two helicopters continued to hover. Being that I was in work mode, I thought "how long can a helicopter stay up just hovering without refuelling" and ...wait for it..."what is the marginal and full economic cost of having two of them do that?"

And that was how exciting it got, which, for an accountant, is very exciting.

Midway through the afternoon, I noticed a van being treated suspiciously. It had been parked there a long time, it was a grey van, like a white van, but grey, with two or three rolls of plastic on the roof, longer than the van. The passenger window was wound down, and a police car had drawn up alongside. Two officious looking chaps from a nearby government department stood and watched as a uniformed officer probed around the front passenger seat wearing blue rubber gloves. I was rather disappointed they didn't produce a mirror-on-a-stick. That's how we used to fight terrorism in the old days, with mirrors on sticks.

Clearly, in the current climate, with a high security, high profile trial of ipod-and-vodka bombers happening just yards away, one can't be too careful, and, indeed another police car arrived and parked randomly, in a "we're attending an important incident, don't expect us to parallel park" sort of way. A crowd gathered, as tends to happen round suspect packages, vans &c. I gazed earnestly on, thinking, "David Cameron has served his purpose, I no longer need him as my muse" when, 'pon my word, Frank Field walked past. It must be gratifying when you are an obscure former minister of state for welfare reform to encounter a political junkie in the street gazing at a possibly-soon-to explode plumbers' van.

So that's the story of the ex-Minister, the Blue Rubber Gloves and me.

I returned to my post, and announced the exciting developments to my colleagues. I glanced out of the window and saw the van being driven off. "The person driving it's got white shirt sleeves, that'll be the police...". M'colleagues all gave me a strange look.

All a bit exciting

As I walked from river to coffee shop, the hovering helicopter and the photographers hanging round on street corners provided a clue.

It's always a guessing game. Last week, it was fascinating to watch the convoy delivering the German minister to our building for an Emergency EU meeting. "What cars were they were in - Mercs or BMWs?" asked a colleague. "Black." I said. I'm a girl.

Just a few weeks ago Tony Blair was convoyed along the road just past the postbox where moments earlier I had deposited two items of post. Sometimes it's royalty or heads of state from home or abroad. Not quite as exciting as when we were almost adjacent to the Palace.

I emerged from coffee shop and walked my normal backstreet route to the office. Often, one has to pause a moment or two for the prison vans to manouvre into place before depositing the culprits. This morning was different. A second helicopter was hovering overhead. Police vans and cars were almost outnumbered by TV satellite vans. Serious photographers with macho fuck-off equipment. And the public, poised with mobile phones, desperate for the moment of audience-generated-content fame for the photo they capture with Nokia 1234 that a pro can't capture with three grands of serious Canon and Fuji equipment.

Sirens began to scream, the sound of cars being driven at speed. I panicked, I have roads to cross, I need to get to work. I began to tremble, scared. In my hands I have a grande latte semi-skinned extra shot, a fag, and an mp3 player (hence no photos taken for purposes of blog). I did not want to be swept up in a media scrum. Cones were placed as roadblocks. A London Buses van acted suspiciously, clearly commandeered for covert surveillance. Three traffic wardens wandered the streets seemingly uninterested in issuing parking tickets. "Something massive is happening at the Magistrates Court,". I had a guess. For a moment or two I felt myself caught up in a global news story.

Is Deputy Assistant Commissioner Peter Clarke the same person who used to be head of Brixton Police and still owes me a response to a Members' Enquiry from over a decade ago.

Cleb spotting

Walking past Conservative Central Office - or as it seems to call itself these days Conservative Campaign Headquarters - as one does, who should I spot but David "Dave" Cameron. He was talking into his phone, but his eyes were moving rapidly from side to side. Either he is a crazed lunatic with swivelling eyes or else he was rapidly checking to see if anyone noticed and recognised him. He was wearing the "Yes I really am that man off the telly..." look as perfected by Michael Portillo. He was looking tanned enough to be mistaken for a terrorism suspect. Not that I would advocate shoot-on-sight-to-kill, not even for Tory leaders. Especially not future footnotes to the footnotes of history.

I loved that clip they showed on Time Trumpet when he was meeting with Asda staff ( man of the people...) and ostentatiously fiddled with his sleeve in order to reveal his white plastic bracelet with "England" printed on it, just underline his man of the people credentials. I expect it was made with the fingers of tiny children in a Far Eastern sweatshop.

No, I didn't get a photo. I couldn't be arsed.

Panic?

We were talking this morning. What will be the medium term impact of the security measures.

If you were booked to fly on 16 August, would you continue with your plans? Are you booked to fly on 16 August? If so, how do you feel?

Jimmy reckons that people will be cancelling left, right and centre, but I'm not sure it's so straightforward.

If I had plans to travel to Western Europe I would be reconsidering them. I'm not sure about a package holiday/charter flight, but if I wanted to be in a certain place at a certain time, I would just think maybe it's quicker to get the train and change at Paris or Brussels rather than spend the same time in Gatwick Chav terminal. I flew to Manchester last year because it was cheaper and quicker (weekend engineering works) but I got the train this year £25 return and travelling Friday and Monday.

Jimmy reckoned that on Thursday lots of people would be avoiding the London Underground. I said, unlikely, because life goes on. I don't think people generally make mass panic decisions, but often people allow factors subconsciously to influence decisions that are often taken on balance at the best of times. The inconvenience, delays, cancellations and uncertainties of air travel at the moment are a factor to tip the balance.

It's like last August, when we went into town the Tubes and streets were noticeably empty, but the Proms we attended were filled to capacity. As it happens I don't recall going into town except for already-booked events (Proms). But not once did we make a conscious decision not to go. It was, like, what shall we do this Saturday. Let's go to that nice restaurant in Clapham, or let's eat in the garden. Not let's avoid London because of security.

The funny thing is, if airport security is stepped up semi-permanently, it will be a good thing for the planet. More people will video-conference rather than travel to talking shops. It won't be so attractive to commute from Barcelona to London. That stag weekend in Tallinn won't be so much fun.

I think we're supposed to feel sorry for the airline industry because this will cost them money. On the other hand, until recently most people only flew once or twice a year at most. Whereas increasingly people of relatively modest incomes don't think twice of getting on a plane as frequently as I got on trains fifteen years ago.

The Aardvark. Why?

I could write something grave and political but that would be straying well into P45 country.

I'm not sure I would recognise an aardvark if I saw one on Brixton High Street*. But Google has 30,700 images, so I imagine that's where they all hide.

I think the aardvark exists purely as an alphabetical convenience. It's the first real word in my dictionary...in checking that I managed to knock over Fowler which knocked the speaker off the desk. There could have been a tale of woe involving coffee and electricity. But there wasn't.

I campaigned in a Local Election in 1986. It was both a routine once-every-four-years and a by-election, in one of the most interesting wards in the country (it tends to dictate control of Trafford Council, if the Tories can't control Trafford Council, they're in deep shit). We won one, and took minority control of the council, but in failing to win the second we failed to take overall control. Psephological analysis showed the tendency of voters to pick candidates higher up the list alphabetically** Jim M was not happy, and decided to change his name by deed poll to Seamus Aardvark...the Seamus would capitalise on the Catholic vote.

It almost always holds true, that alphabetical thing (unless your name happens to be Abu-Bakr or Anyanwu, as we discovered in Lambeth in 1994). Undeterred the next by-election was successfully won by Messrs Abu-Bakr and Adams. Being Curtis, I thought I would benefit from the alphabetical effect. My opponents included Baker, Baron, Binder. One running mate was Cattermole. Heck, I still polled the second highest number of votes in the entire Borough. Donkey in a red rosette, you see.

D'you think they'd vote for an aardvark in a red rosette?

What brought this on? - thanks Damian

*I'm not sure where Brixton High street is. It's an expression beloved by the meejah, but not by any cartographers. I expect they mean Brixton Road. But too prosaic for a sensationalist web of lies

** Electoral Reform - list candidates in random, not alphabetical, order?

Tax break for couples

Cameron urges tax breaks for gays

Ooh, look Citizen Dave is being Right On.

Oh, wait a minute, this goes hand-in-hand with his commitment to tax breaks for being married.

Is the Tory Party innumerate?

And can somebody explain why there should be tax breaks for couples be they gay or straight, married/civilly-united or cohabiting.

There is a strong argument for giving tax breaks for anybody with dependents, be they children, adults with disabilities or elderly-and-infirm.

Surely it is far more morally justifiable not to give tax breaks to couples with no dependents, but to look at the whole tax-benefits system for carers. Couples, regardless of 'status', including non-involved housemates, can live far more cheaply than two single adults. Many of our household bills are exactly the same (disregarding inflation) as when I lived alone: mortgage, water, insurance, TV subscription and licence, and incidental household repairs and fittings/furnishings There is a slight increase in the use of gas and electricity, but certainly not a doubling. Council tax has increased by a third. Even food costs, ceteris paribus haven't doubled. And there are numerous incidental costs that add very little for a couple compared to a single person - travel insurance joint memberships etc. If we were a two-car household with typical car useage, we would still share many journeys with the consequent savings.

I think it is morally repugnant to give tax breaks to a couple who have the chance to earn two decent incomes, and ignore, for example, the middle-aged parent caring round the clock for a severely disabled adult child. Not that the carer would be eligible for tax breaks, considering that they are likely to be entirely dependent upon Benefit, often with very little respite care. Which is a subject that David Cameron should know a bit more about than the average politician or member of the public. And sometimes the Carers Role isn't even taken by a relative or partner.

An interesting anomaly

I was looking at something in the course of work and discovered something interesting.

In England and Wales, in order to get married, you have to give notice and then wait fifteen days.

There is no requirement for the 15 day notice period if the one of the partners has been issued with a gender recognition certificate and was previously the civil partner of the person who they wish to marry. In this case, notice of the marriage and the marriage itself can happen on the same day.

I CBATG whether the reverse also applies - that a marriage can be converted to a Civil Partnership on production of a gender recognition certificate.

It's stuff like this that makes me proud we have a Labour Government, and not one that thinks that somehow a civil partnership will undermine marriage. You know, whenever people trot out that argument it always puts me right off marriage, because I wouldn't wish to enter into something so fragile that it's so easily undermined.
I think it's wonderful that such a concession exists - and in answer to the query that someone posed when I mentioned it in conversation, I think the waiving of the fifteen day notice is because there has already been chance to object to the Civil Partnership; the fact that no one objected first time means de facto there is not considered to be any objections.

It would be interesting to find out in due course how many such switches from Civil Partnership to marriage (and vice versa, if relevant) occur.

Going nuclear

Being that this is a weblog, I ought to provide links, but frankly the net is so full of links, it would be quicker to Google or to search your favourite news source.

Last week Tony Blair reiterated his support for nuclear power stations and I believe it stinks. Actually the one thing that nuclear power stations don't do is stink.

The issue has been reopened because we have squandered our natural gas and North Sea oil reserves and all but closed our coal industry; in addition, a sizeable and vocal minority of people are increasingly concerned about carbon emissions and Climate Change - I for one, not normally an Attenborough-watcher, will be recording Are We changing Planet Earth? on Wednesday.

As far as I know, nuclear generation does not directly increase carbon emissions and thus superficially does not contribute to Climate Change. So, it's alright then?

Only, it's not.

It's an issue I have felt strongly about since I was in Sixth Form. I recall an article in the New Socialist that I read and re-read, about nuclear energy. Also about renewable energy. And I have read and read on the subject in the intervening twenty-odd years.

Renewable energy has never been given a chance in this country. At that time, the amount being invested in research for renewables was a fraction of a percent of what had been invested in nuclear. I daresay it has increased since but it is still a skeleton. We have never given renewables a go. In the 50s, nuclear was hailed as The Future, zero cost. We were supposed to get free electricity as a result...have you seen your electricity bill recently? And yet we are an island surrounded by sea, the furthest you can get from the sea in Britain is a little over fifty miles. We have wind in abundance and we don't lack sunshine, especially on south facing slopes (although we could do with a bit more...!)

Development of wind farms have been stymied by protests. I can't say that I would care for a wind farm on my doorstep (although, frankly preferable to jerry-built concrete System Built Yuppie flats) but the options are viewed as being windfarms or nothing, whereas the reality is windfarms or fossil-fuelled power stations, but, hopefully, on someone else's doorstep.

Uranium needs to be mined. CAFOD has recently launched a campaign to combat the destruction of gold-mining; it would be naive to assume that uranium mining is somehow miraculously humane. It then has to be transported, by ship across the globe and by train or lorry locally. We don't know fully the long-term effects of depleted uranium, which we are just tossing out to sea, but we know enough for alarm bells to be ringing - for example, the cluster of cancers in people born in Bray Co. Wicklow whose gestation coincided with a massive (covered-up) leak in 1956 from what is now called Sellafield.

I became even more agitated about nuclear power when Chernobyl happened. This coincided with the US/UK bombing of Libya and there were a few people reflecting on the consequences if someone like Gaddafi decided to bomb nuclear installations. It seems so obvious, although the fact that it hasn't yet been done makes it fanciful. Although it was seemingly a big issue in Jersey last week. the splendid Coast programme shown a few months ago demonstrated how reactive the beach around Dounreay is, and to be frank, that worried me.

I think it's a cop-out and an abrogation of responsibility to endorse an increase in our nuclear capability. Yes, there is progress in alternative power sources and in energy conservation, but too little, too slowly. I would have thought that the biggest challenges for political leadership are the 3 Ps: Peace, Poverty and the Planet*. All the rest is administrative detail, best left to administrators. Politicians must address the 3Ps and lead the people in doing so, not amke themselves vulnerable to attacks of being in the pockets and pay of the Nuclear Power lobby

* I've just invented that: due credit, please

Deadheading the roses

Clarke is fired in Cabinet purge

Cabinet Reshuffles are always so very interesting; all about personalities, of course, and, really nothing about issues. And it's really the issues* that matter. The pundits will be examining the runes and working out whether it's the Blairites or the Brownites in the ascendancy. And, within the Blairites, it's the ultras or the capitulators.

Margaret Beckett, for whom I voted in the 1994 Leadership election, becomes Foreign Secretary. In my view she has been consistently the most reliable and principled member of the government, along with Gordon Brown, since 1997. Isn't it a sad indictment that it takes until 2006 for a woman to hold one of the Great (non-PM) offices of state.

Interesting to see David Miliband in DEFRA, possibly not the obvious choice for a rising star, but perhaps sending out a clear signal that the Environment is in the hands of the real Future Prime Minister David, not the grandstanding pretender.

I am now on my fourth Secretary of state in five years in my Department.

The General Election Campaign of June 2009** starts here; mmofm will regain its political spine. your humble editor will start attending her ward meetings in order to hold accountable her elected councillors from the ruling group.

I am astounded: Out of 63, we had 29 seats, so I knew we needed to gain 3 for an overall majority, and when I heard that Labour had taken control, I thought we might have gained 3 or 4. But the results are phenomenal:Labour has gained 10 and the Lib Dems have lost 10. There is a Green for the first time, and the Tories have also lost one. What an indictment that was on the sheer corrupt incompetency of the incumbent Tory Liberal alliance, that in an election that sees Disaster headlines for the Labour Party, that they are trounced. On their record!

I don't suppose Our Esteemed Leader has time to make one of his very occasional visits to mmofm but just in case - Steve Reed, you are a star. And my hero. And to all the phenomenally wonderful Labour Activists in Lambeth, Well Done!

Oh, I can't go to the next ward meeting, I'll be at Cyrano de Bergerac. and I'll miss the June one for Fedora. And the July one coincides with Figaro. August is a non-event, September is pencilled in for hols, October is staff conference. Oh well, I'll hold them accountable in November. Six month reality check!

* you know I'm a Bennite, don't you!
** I'm guessing - I have no insider info!

Vote Tactically...

...for local services

I'm going to repeat here a comment I left at Girl With a One Track Mind

There are two serious flaws to that Tactical Voting Ploy. The first is: Local Elections have absolutely nothing to do with the war and a lot to do with the delivery of local services including schools, housing, bin emptying and having a concrete carbuncle erected on one's doorstep. It is not democracy to hold people accountable for things for which they have no responsibility and not hold them accountable for what they have direct responsibility for.

Secondly, it's a blunderbuss scatter gun approach. I typed in my postcode and was told that I should vote Green as an Anti-war vote. The only problem with that is I know there are Labour and Lib Dem candidates that are also anti-war. I don't know the Tory candidates personally but I know Tories in nearby wards who I personally saw on anti-war demos.

I used to be a Labour councillor for broadly the same ward (pre boundary changes) and supposing I had continued and was standing today, I would be angry at being portrayed as pro-War.

But I would be even angrier at the thought that people who don't need to care about local services would be voting against a candidate who had a track record of being an advocate for the poor and oppressed, of working in a team to try and create a well-run borough that delivers services, and of taking a sensitive approach to quasi-judicial decisions.

Amongst the pledges from my Labour candidates are a new secondary school (a hot local issue where the ruling Liberal Tory coalition turned down £20m grant from central govt. because they don't want a school in the area that votes Labour), mending broken roads and pavements, and expanding household recycling.

It's a travesty of democracy and immature to use the Local Elections as a protest against International Politics.

If you are not interested in schools, home helps, recycling, paving stones, and whether foul concrete monstrosities are erected feet from your house, just don't vote. There are people who do care about such things, and if you vote in these local elections on national or international issues, it is tantamount to stealing their votes.

There are people who believe that local decisions should be made locally. But each time local election results are decided on irrelevant issues it sends a signal to the Westminster politicians that people want central diktat.

Cutting

Matt in the Telegraph is usually at least reasonably good but he seems to have been on cracking form of late, admittedly having been rather spoonfed his material.

My two favourites:

Rock Against Racism

Thirty years after Rock against Racism, a new generation of bands confronts rise of the BNP

Love Music Hate Racism

I'm not in the habit of of quoting Pete Doherty but full marks for being bang-on:

I don't think you have to be a particularly developed human being intellectually or spiritually to despise racism

Exclusive, the Truth: Me and Two Shags

My friend X has - or certainly had - a crush on John Prescott. I could never see it myself. Other men she had crushes on included John Thaw, Alastair Campbell and Brian Mawhinney (I kid you not). I just put it down to being one of those things.

I went to Young Labour Conference one year. John Prescott came to address us, wave a few pledge cards around and so on. Before the formal session began quite a few people approached him for a chat, maybe an autograph. I didn't, because I don't didn't approach celebs for autographs, not in those days. A woman returned to her seat behind me and was literally trembling and stammering at how she had met him, he's gorgeous, etc. Alarm bells began to ring.

A year or two later I was at Local Government Conference and I happened to fall into conversation with John Prescott,, just an exchange of pleasantries, as one does as one crosses the road. I can't say I fell for him or whatever, but in an entirely objective way I could understand why my friend X and the mystery woman from Vale of York CLP were so smitten. Not my type. End of story.

Time went by and Prescott became Deputy Prime Minister. One evening, in a restaurant with a group of people conversation drifted to the subject of Cabinet Ministers having affairs. I don't recall now the exact thrust: perhaps some tipsy silliness about which one you'd shag, or maybe opening a book on who would be the first (or, rather the first after Robin Cook) to be found out.

I mentioned John Prescott's name in a jokey way, perhaps "I wouldn't have him..." and one of the group, ϑ* went a very bright shade of red, wriggled uncomfortably, tried unsuccessfully to change the subject and made a strategic dash for the Ladies. Some months later, conversation was about marital fidelity/infidelity in a very abstract sense, and ϑ was fairly candid that she had had an affair with a married man she had met through work, but it was long finished.

A few times today I have commented "Shock! Horror! Alpha Male has extra-marital affair!" and people have said "John Prescott? Alpha Male?" to which I have replied "Duh! He is the Deputy Prime Minister".

A few weeks ago there was a Jag parked near my office with a registration made up of two numbers and then three letters - DPM. I wondered if it was his.

* this is so top-secret a mere initial is not enough

Time to get political

I am churning up with a guilt complex. These elections matter. I mean, they really matter.

I already know what's going to happen. Almost a third* of the electorate** will trot out to the Polling Station and cast their votes. What issues will be uppermost in determining where their vote will go? Iraq? Issues that I won't blog about+? Overspending in the NHS (shock! horror! NHS spends money! GPs get almost as much salary as as over-coked advertising creatives)? None of which are controlled by the local councils that will be elected.

It is something that really ticks me off about the British electorate. On the one hand we go and vote on irrelevant national issues in local elections; on the other hand we complain when Central Government (of both Parties) plays fast and loose with the powers of the local council. In most mature democracies, local decisions are made locally, but not in Britain, where we complain when the streets don't get swept or when the schools are not up to scratch, and then, when we get the chance to influence how those vital services are delivered we vote on matters of global import.

I am in a luxurious position. there are twelve candidates in my ward, three from each of the four main parties. I don't know the Conservatives and I don't know one of the Greens, but the rest, I either know or have, at least, contested (and won!) an election against them!

I'm in the double luxury position of having a choice - I shall vote Labour because I have confidence in the ability of Lambeth Labour Group to run Lambeth council in accordance with my beliefs and to be accountable to the electorate. I also know that they won't overspend on the NHS, invade Iran, Iraq, Ireland, Israel or Italy. Mainly because they don't have the means to do so. And I shall vote Labour because I do not have to face the dilemma of voting for the party most likely to beat the BNP. It's always a matter of relief when I learn that the BNP will not put up candidates in Brixton Hill ward. Too scared. Although it would be delightful to see them utterly humiliated and trounced.

I've been a bad political "activist"...I explained to a councillor/candidate in a neighbouring ward that having chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Yuppie Burn Out caused by being a councillor for eight years, I don't have the strength to be out on the campaign trail. That and an unconscionable lack of personal motivation and drive. He said that that people with Yuppie Burn-Out row across the Atlantic to cure it. As if, can you imagine me blogging from a rowboat mid-Atlantic.

Seriously though, just the other day, in the course of work I had reason to look at the website for the local council where my brother etc live. I was invited to type in a post code and discover the local councillors. So I typed in Brother Etc's postcode. The first name was a typical posh looking Tory, address in local posh historic village; the second was typical smarmy garigiste Tory, address c/o City Hall. The third picture churned my stomach, a stereotypical nasty looking skinhead thug. "Crikey, is that what the Tory Party has come to?" I thought. Then I saw it and my stomach churned with revulsion. BRITISH NATIONAL PARTY.

I looked at again at the pictures of the Tories and thought - they look like reasonable civilised men. No doubt we would disagree of many matters of policy, maybe of matters of fundamental principle. Maybe I would detest them and what they stood for. But you know what - if I lived there, and that was the only information I had to inform my voting behaviour, I would vote Tory. And I would do with a heavy heart and a clear conscience.

Imagine waking up one day and realising that your views, needs and interests are represented by one, or two, or three BNP councillors.

Imagine even worse - it's not just a handful of impotent bullyboys throwing their weight around on the margins of the Town Hall, but they are actually running the council. Determining the housing policy, running the schools your children or your neighbours' children attend. Having the power to grant or withhold licences. Responsible for the personal homecare that your granny or aged parent depends upon. Stifling democracy with the jackboot.

One thing that the BNP is superbly good at is mobilising their supporters to vote. BNP supporters do not stay at home to watch Eastenders, they go out and vote.

I'm going to be voting anyway. Early...ish. And often - where I live, throughout London and in many non-Metropolitan districts, all the seats are up for grabs. Three councillors to be elected, three candidates from each of the mainstream parties, and three votes for Gert. I shall vote Labour and pray that across the country people of good intentions vote for the mainstream party most likely to defeat the fascists.

* or fewer, if raining
** in areas where there are elections - I know that's not everywhere
+ I do not fancy a P45

The New East End

In the East End, they still hate means testing is Will Hutton's reflection on a new book about Kinship, Race and Conflict - 'must read' say both Trevor Phillips and David Wiletts.

It seems to me to be an example of what Social Science should be all about - incidentally, it is an update of Michael Young and Peter Willmott's Family and Kinship in East London from the 1950s. As a student I got imbroigled in a pointless discussion with a friend, an engineer, who claimed that the Social Science Faculty should be renamed, because it did not deal with facts. True that it did not deal in binary facts. there are rarely yes/no; on/off; black/white facts. And Hutton's sensitive piece acknowledges that. What the writers of the current book appear to have done is spend many years gathering and examining evidence, and analysing it in order to reach conclusions. But even the conclusions are not especially binary. Housing policy is Cinderella to the Key Issues of Education, Health and Crime, but perhaps more than those three is potentially the key to a prosperous cohesive society.

And it's only £16, which surprised me because academic tomes often require a second mortgage.

Do MPs' sex lives matter?

Do MPs' sex lives matter? asks The Observer.

At which point I go into classic Vicky Pollard mode "Yeah but no but yeah..."

There is a great deal of rubbish talked about politicians. The most irksome is "If he's going to lie to his wife about his sex life, he's bound to lie about Policy Issues." To which I say Bollocks. I assume that most people are dishonest some of the time. I'm the expert at inventing post hoc excuses for failing to act; my partner's specialised subject is trying to rationalise and justify alcohol consumption, to me, but mainly to himself. It does not follow that therefore we are fraudsters or cheats or whatever. Guess what, people compartmentalise their lives. The nature of life at Westminster, where Alpha-males, men and women, spend ridiculous hours often hundreds of miles from base create conditions for sexual adventuring. Of course, all French Presidents have mistresses. I think it's a prerequisite of the office.

And I personally don't care what a politician's orientation is: straight, gay, bisexual, whatever. I made the mistake of catching the beginning of Question Time the other night, when the panel included Simon Hughes. I turned off when some ghastly member of the public started ranting about "This is a Christian country yet we allow all manner of perversions lesbianism, homosexuality blah blah blah watch my eyes swivel." Give it a rest already. Haven't you grasped that people are sick and tired of the faux morality of religious nutjobs trying to tell people how to live their private lives?

What I don't like, and I sense this is widely shared, is the hypocrisy. I can't stand this flaunting of family by politicians. It's tired and clichéd and meaningless. Considering the majority of politicians are male I'm not sure how demonstrating they have ejaculated once or twice demonstrates their fitness for office. (I know there is a lot more to fatherhood than that, but it's possible to parade perfectly formed brats without having the slightest idea about them, their concerns, or the concerns of ordinary parents).

Perhaps we get the Press we deserve, although frankly, what we have done to deserve the shower that is the pride of Fleet Street beats me. It's no longer of any great interest when an MP, indeed, a minister is gay, per se. I'm not saying there isn't homophobia, but it's pretty muted compared to the misogyny that abounds (see Ruth Kelly). Or the class-based snobbishness (see John Prescott). Dave 'Citizen' Cameron has demonstrated that a history of non-problematic drug use is not in itself a bar, and Charles Kennedy has demonstrated that we are intolerant of problematic drug use (yeah, yeah, I know alcoholism is an illness, and I have every sympathy blahblahblah).

What continues to bug me is the continuing assumption that morality is all about sexual morality. It isn't. We have had a Leadership contest for the Tories dominated by drugs and class; we are having one for the Lib Dems which is dominated by sex. There will soon be one for the Labour Party and it's anybody's guess what irrelevant issue will dominate.

I have yet to see an any examination of the real morality of politicians. No one has had their carbon footprint examined. There has been little examination of how leading politicians of any party treat ordinary people. For me, they are much more important than who's screwing who. Watching Judge John Deed, I get very depressed at the portrayal of Senior Civil Servants of being hellbent on managing everything for convenience. To some extent it is the reality of government, but the caricature allows no room for principles, and doesn't allow that there are politicians in central and local government, supported by officials and officers who actually do want to improve the world in which we live. The debate should be about firstly, whether we agree on the aims, and secondly, whether we agree on the means and consider them practicable. That's what matters, but the media seem determined to expose the foibles of politicians or mock their personal idiosyncrasies, because it's a lot easier than getting out of Westminster Village and finding out what matters to ordinary people throughout the country and the extent to which government policies, or those proposed by Oppositions, will help or hinder us to lead a quiet life and fulfill our potential.

Hold the front page

Simon Hughes explains his gay admission

No surprise there, then. Except for the fact that the media seem to be regarding it as 'News', when I thought it was widely known anyway.

In the twenty first century it really shouldn't be a problem being gay or bisexual; this has been demonstrated by the number of out gay MPs and former MPs. And certainly for Simon Hughes who, to my knowledge isn't marrried and doesn't flaunt a false heterosexuality in campaigning, it really should be a non-issue.

Except for the fact that some of us have extremely long memories and regard the Bermondsey byelection of 1983 as one of the most shameful episodes in British Politics. It has been explained to me that Simon Hughes was not directly responsible for the horrendous homophobia against Peter Tatchell in that campaign. However, Hughes did absolutely nothing to counter it, and was more than willing to take advantage of it to win that seat which had previously been Labour held for generations, and which he still holds now (with a few boundary changes).

The irony of him coming out to the Sun hasn't escaped me. And, ordinarily, I do not think a politician's sexual orientation should be of any consequence. Indeed, it would be no bad thing for the Leader of a major party, or, failing that, the Lib Dems, to be gay or bisexual.

But it would also be delicious if Simon Hughes' leadership attempts were thwarted as a result of The Sun and homophobia.

It seems that Peter Tatchell is more forgiving than I am.

Update: I refuse even to link to the Sun front page that uses the phrase 'Limp-Dem'. I find that offensive.

Cynical bastard

Oaten resigns over rent boy claim

Don't get me started on the stupidity of a man who not only runs the risk of exposing his family to scandal, being an obscure backbench MP, but then decides to grab his fifteen minutes through standing for the albeit inconsequential post of perpetual runner-up to the runner up (hint, if you're going to screw around, don't pursue publicity...)

But the manipulative cynic decides to make his statement just as the Nation's Whale is dying. That's like doing it on Diana's Death Day.

And all the Suckers voted Lib Dem because of their Honesty and Integrity.

I'm not sniggering. Not really. Not hardly at all. Okay, I am...

Further comment

LibDems in disarray

Interesting to note that both Tom Watson and Boris Johnson have blogged remarkedly similar posts on the divided LibDems. Also remarkable that so little has been said about this in the National Press.

I discovered years ago that the Liberal Democrats in Lambeth were irredeemably divided. They had different Deputy Leaders for the North and South of the borough (they cared,and still care, nothing for the Centre). They fought elections in the North on a right-wing agenda, there is some hearsay that they were overtly racist. In the South, they fought on a sandal-wearing lentil-eating agenda. I recall my final council budget meeting, which was boycotted by some of their - retiring - Lib Dem councillors on the basis that their budget was opportunistic and unworkable.

In the General Election, the Lib Dems picked up a great number of votes from disaffected Labour supporters. Indeed, the Libs played the Iraq card well, so people who can't be bothered actually to inform themselves about policy but had a vague feeling that the Iraq war was bad and the Liberal Democrats opposed it, made themselves feel good by casting their votes in that direction - regardless of the fact that fewer LibDem MPs opposed the Iraq war than did either Labour or Conservative MPs.