My lessons for David Lammy

There is worryingly little time left to make the appropriate preparations for Bridget Phillipson’s official birthday, on 19 December. As far as I am aware, no venue has been booked as yet – and given that the minister for women and incalculable self entitlement has her birthday slap bang in the middle of the festive season, finding a suitable place may prove problematic. The Royal Albert Hall, for example, is already booked out for an evening with Guy Barker’s Big Band Christmas, but I dare say that if pressure was brought to bear this could be junked so that the celebrations for Bridget’s 41st might be housed in a suitable location.

Last year, if you remember, she was forced to slum it at the Hoare Memorial Hall, SW1, the bill being picked up by the Labour donor Lord Alli. It is hoped that he can be prevailed upon to fork out for the cost of spray-painting gold 100 naked Filipino dwarfs, who will be charged with the task of carrying her litter into the hall – but I am not sure that even this is in hand, let alone the various complex arrangements for the performing geese.

It may be that the government will be required to pass a law which enshrines the date of 19 December in the public mind and charges various ministries of state with the responsibility for organising this important commemorative event. A recourse to law does have some precedence – in 2013 a new law was enacted simply to ensure that Sir Keir Starmer didn’t have to pay any extra tax above £1 million on his pension, accrued when he was the Director of Public Prosecutions. It is to Sir Keir’s enormous credit that this canny little sliver of tax avoidance hasn’t engendered in him a sentimentality towards pensioners in general.