It is spookily appropriate that I read Chris Mullin’s splendidly candid and revealing 2005-2010 diaries in the aftermath of the Blackberry riots, where dysfunctional families are a popular topic of conversation. Because, in the final death throes of Tony Blair’ faltering tenure and Gordon Brown’s psychiatric episode at Number 10, they were running a dysfunctional government spawn from an ungovernable party.
The wonder of Blair was his ability to tell people what they wanted to hear. They would leave The Presence feeling warm and fuzzy. But when the Blair high had worn off and the reality hangover
kicked in, they would ask themselves if they had been promised anything at all. This was best summed up by that old Gromyko of the Labour Party, Jack Straw:
“Tony’s like a man who says I love you to seven, eight, nine, or ten women and they all go away feeling happy until they start to compare notes”.
The fiasco over 90 day detention for suspected terrorists is a wonderful example.
A minister, who shall remain nameless, recounted how this morning his officials rang the Home Office to find out what the line was, only to be told “we don’t know.”
During the debate, which the government eventually lost, Mullin recounts a splendid little vignette.
“Your intervention was devastating”, said Mike O’Brien our Solicitor General who was sitting next to Charles (Clarke) on the front bench throughout. He reported the following sotto
voce exchange between himself and the Home secretary while I was on my feet.
“Is that true?”
“Yes it is”.
“Does it damage our case?”
“It does”.
“Oh fuck!”
The joyous quality of these diaries is that they are all within recent memory. And Mullin’s splendid recollection merely makes the reader think, “I thought so!” A revealing
example was the cash for honours scandal. Here, he describes a conversation with someone who had worked with Lord Levy, the fund raiser.
Levy always went out of his way to make clear that there was no promise of an honour adding slyly, “but I will make two points. (1) a donation does not rule out an honour and (2) contributions to good causes can lead to honours. If you wish, I can send you details of one or two good causes that might qualify”.
What really, shocked me, (I suppose it shouldn’t really) was how partisan the decision making process was and how inquiries where rigged to such a level as to make Sir Humprey blush.
A brief exchange with Jack Straw re the Hayden Phillips inquiry into party funding, which appears to be coming to some potentially ruinous conclusions regarding the trade unions. Jack said, “I’ve told him in terms, with two note takers present, that if he gets it wrong I’ll screw him”.
Sadly, there isn’t the space in this review to describe the sheer horror of Gordon Brown’s premiership.
Rumours of tantrums, harassment of minions, chaotic micromanagement and telephone throwing are true. Gordon…is perpetually exhausted, incapable of relaxing, constantly micro-managing and takes disagreements personally. (“Why are they doing this to me?“).
Poor old Gordo really was a bit of a headcase after all and Mullin tells a wonderful tale of his mania when Cameron appeared at the Chinese embassy at roughly the same time to sign a condolence book.
Whereupon Gordon, fearing that his limelight had been stolen went into a great sulk, strode out of the embassy, barely acknowledging Cameron and climbed into his car. Once inside he began pummelling the headrest in front of him, causing his protection officer’s head to ricochet , bleating about “treachery” and “conspiracy” and demanding to be told “who did this to me?“. A hapless official tried to placate him, but Gordon would not be placated. Eventually, the official inquired who was in this conspiracy. To which Gordon, without batting an eyelid, replied, “The Tories, the Chinese, the Foreign Office.”
But these diaries are also a fascinating insight into the psyche of some of the big beasts. Take Jack Straw.
23 July. Jack’s assessment of the current state of play was unequivocal; ‘we’re fucked.’
28 July. Jack Straw issued the following statement: ‘I am absolutely convinced that Gordon Brown is the right man to lead the Labour Party.’ All day I kept my ears open for the
sound of a cock crowing.
But my favourite story was when Mullin was discussing the ministerial nuclear bunker with an MOD official.
‘Have the Blairs been round?’
‘Yes, they took a look at the Prime Minister’s quarters.’
‘And they were satisfied?’
‘No, as it happens. Mrs Blair didn’t like the décor. We had to redo it’.
Priceless. Like this book. Whatever your political views, you would be even madder than Gordon Brown not to read it. And that is a very tall order.
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