The tickets have all been handed out fairly and efficiently. No one has grumbled about crashing websites or foreign tour operators snaffling the best seats. There are no snatch squads of lawyers and police ready to pounce on inappropriate signs and seal off London’s A-roads for a few VIPs. Yet the overall crowd figure will stretch into the millions, with billions more watching around the world. The promotional value is incalculable. And the cost of this global event? The taxpayer is being charged £1 million for administration bills plus whatever it costs to police the public. At worst, the entire thing might cost, say, half a beach volleyball arena.
Having bumbled along purposefully and quietly for the last few years, the Diamond Jubilee tortoise is suddenly overtaking the £9.3 billion Olympic hare. And the contrast between the two mindsets is startling. Is it too late for the grandees of the Olympic movement — and they don’t come much grander — to learn a few lessons from one who really knows about winning hearts and minds?
Long before the Diamond Jubilee trumpet had sounded, the Queen had already taken a few important decisions about her 60th anniversary on the throne. The Lord Chamberlain’s Office, which patrols use and abuse of the Royal Arms, declared an amnesty on merchandise, to the delight of hard-pressed retailers and manufacturers. Every mug and tea towel is welcome, not just the official stuff from the Royal Collection. Nor would the Palace plan any big set-piece events. Instead, it would work with any private organisations or charities which wanted to organise one, provided there was no prospect of the taxpayer being left with a hefty tab.
There would be no hype, no rigorously policed marketing strategy, no official mascots like that grotesque one-eyed Teletubby (yours for a tenner).
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