Recently, it has seemed that Britain might never find a credible new Leader of the Opposition.

The race for the leadership of the Conservative Party has appeared to be a black farce, full of manoeuvering, mistrust and indecision; and you don't have to be a Tory to find that worrying. Following Labour's overwhelming election victory, many people were unhappy at the prospect of Tony Blair wielding unchecked power in Parliament, particularly given his reputation as a control freak. Among those who felt uneasy were many, including myself, who had voted Labour but nevertheless felt that someone should try to keep Blair in check.

And so it came as a relief when finally, this week, a figure emerged into the spotlight who really could stand up to Blair and offer an alternative. The news was all the better because the person concerned was a reassuring, familiar figure: a veteran Parliamentarian, respected on both sides of the House and popular with the public.

Yes, well done Gwyneth Dunwoody. The Government's attempt to sack her as chair of the Parliamentary select committee on transport caused the Blair administration's first-ever defeats in House of Commons votes. MPs refused to ratify her dismissal and that of Donald Anderson, who'd been sacked as chair of the foreign affairs select committee. The select committees' function is to scrutinise government proposals, comment on them and possibly suggest amendments. They are there to criticise the Government if necessary, and Ms Dunwoody and Mr Anderson had done so frequently. Although no official reason was given for their dismissals, the sackings were almost universally seen as a case of Blair trying to stamp out dissent within his own party.

Now, the rebel duo seem likely to get their jobs back; and Ms Dunwoody, the most famous and outspoken of the two, seems sure to become a kind of unofficial leader of the disaffected in Parliament. You'd expect the chief critic of a Labour government to come from within the Conservative Party; but at the moment, that party is far too busy with its own internal conflicts to focus on anything else.

I have been enjoying the Conservative leadership election enormously, even if at times it has felt a little like eavesdropping on a particularly nasty family row. From the point of view of anyone who dislikes the party and wants to see the maximum possible damage done to their cause, the leadership election could hardly have gone better. The system of selection the Tories are using for the first (and last?) time was meant to be open and democratic, but the main thing it has achieved has been to draw attention to the deep divisions within the party.

The Conservatives have turned their leadership election process into a game of two halves. In the first half, Tory MPs took part in a voting process that drew comparisons to two TV shows: "Big Brother" and "The Weakest Link". The idea was that the party's MPs would take part in a series of ballots, with the candidate who got least votes being eliminated after each round. But the process stalled at the first hurdle when two contenders, Michael Ancram and David Davis, tied for last place. Neither was willing to withdraw, so a re-run had to be held. (I composed a haiku to mark this event: 'Tied vote for leader/Typical Tory problem/Too many losers').

The re-run eliminated Ancram. Davis then chose to stand down, leaving three contenders left to slug it out. And it was then that Michael Portillo found out that hell hath no fury like a Tory right wing scorned.

Portillo was once one of Margaret Thatcher's most trusted lieutenants. He personally took charge of the introduction of the most hated Thatcher policy of all: the infamous Community Charge, better known as the poll tax. When Thatcher was ousted from office, Portillo served in John Major's government. Throughout all of this time, he was a hero of the hard right, supporting all the Tories' most controversial policies. When the Conservatives were heavily defeated in the 1997 General Election and Major resigned as Tory leader, Portillo would probably have taken his place but for the event that made the phrase "Portillo's face" part of British political folklore.

The Conservatives were humiliated in 1997, and election night was a wonderful event for all those who had longed to see them out of office. For many, the greatest moment of all came when the result from the Enfield Southgate constituency was announced, and the nation was told that Portillo's seemingly safe Parliamentary seat had fallen to Labour's Stephen Twigg. As the candidates lined up on the platform and the result was announced, even Twigg looked incredulous. Portillo smirked sardonically, his face a mask of cold fury. The next day, one of the most-asked questions in Britain must have been: 'Did you see Portillo's face?' (The film of that Enfield Southgate declaration scored highly in a recent poll to find British television viewers' favourite TV moments of the Nineties).

But Portillo managed to return to Parliament via a by-election, and in June, when William Hague quit as Tory leader after the party's second successive landslide election defeat, Portillo was hot favourite to succeed him. He duly came top of the poll in the first round of voting, and in the second - and then the knives came out. He was bitterly attacked in the Tory press for having softened his previous hard-right stance, and in particular for expressing vaguely liberal views on the subjects of homosexuality and the possible legalisation of cannabis.

The vituperation levelled against him seemed so intense that many have suspected a hidden agenda of homophobia and xenophobia on the part of the Tory right and its supporters in the press. After all, Portillo is half Spanish, and he has let it be known that he once had a homosexual affair. But whatever the reason for the press campaign, it would appear to have worked. In Tuesday's third round of voting, Portillo was pushed into third place and eliminated from the leadership contest by a margin of one vote.

And so we had a sequel to that much-loved moment in 1997 - a "Portillo's Face 2", four years on. This time was different, though. The striking thing about Portillo's face on Tuesday, as he went on TV to announce his retirement from front-rank politics, was that he looked genuinely relieved to be out of it all. Perhaps that's not too surprising. The previous few days would have given him a painful reminder as to what a dirty game politics can be.

The Tory leadership contest has now reached its second stage. There will now be a ballot of all the party's members to choose between the two remaining candidates: Kenneth Clarke and Iain Duncan Smith, respectively the most left-leaning and the most right-wing of the five original contenders. On Tuesday, the two men smiled, shook hands for the cameras and made pious noises about wanting a clean and honest debate; yet each holds views that are anathema to the other, particularly on the vital question of Britain's relationship with Europe. It's hard to imagine that things are going to stay clean and friendly for long.

The three potential Tory leaders who've been rejected by their party all described themselves as unity candidates, and claimed to be standing in the hope of unifying the party. That wish for peace between the party's factions has been rejected. In putting forward Duncan Smith and Clarke as the two options for the Tory faithful, the Conservative Party's MPs have surely voted for a civil war within the party.

It all promises to be bitter, bloody and wonderfully entertaining.

George W. Bush has come to Britain. Whilst here, he'll meet the Queen and Tony Blair. Then, on Friday, he'll fly on to Genoa in Italy for a meeting of representatives from the G8 group of nations. At the meeting, global warming and international defence policies will be discussed.

I wonder why Bush is bothering? What possible point can be there be in his European visit? After all, he has made it abundantly clear in interviews what his attitude is to any other national leaders who might be concerned about the US government's policies. That attitude can be summed up in a single h2g2 smiley: .

Bush will be accompanied by a team of people described as "negotiators". This frankly seems like a waste of American taxpayers' money, since these people are not going to be allowed to do much negotiating. Governments around the world may be alarmed by Bush's entrenched opposition to the Kyoto protocol on global warming, and by his administration's plans to scrap the 1972 anti-ballistic missile treaty, but as far as GWB's concerned, if they don't like it they can lump it. In a recent speech at the World Bank, Bush said:
'On both issues I have made my positions clear. People shouldn't doubt where the United States stands.'

Meanwhile, in Bonn, Germany, more international discussions about global warming have been taking place - two months late. When, back in March, the Bush administration made it clear that they wouldn't comply with the Kyoto accord, they tried to soften the blow by offering to come up with alternatives in time for the Bonn summit - if they could be given an extra two months to consider their options. The meeting was duly delayed - but now the leader of the US delegation, Paula Dobriansky, has made it clear that she won't be bringing any new American proposals to the meeting. Despite getting the extra time they asked for, the Bush administration will not be offering any initiatives on how to curb global emissions of greenhouse gases.

In the words of Kalee Kreider, global warming specialist at the National Environmental Trust in Washington:
'The US wanted the delay. The rest of the world generously agreed to it, so the US could develop its policy - and they don't have policy alternatives now.

'It doesn't enhance US credibility overseas'.

When it comes to the missile treaty, Bush's language has been even more uncompromising. In a BBC interview this week, he declared:
'Europeans heard me once and they'll hear me again say that the Cold War is over, that Russia is not our enemy, and that we should not adhere to a treaty that prevents the United States and other freedom-loving people from developing defences'.

Well yes, George, no doubt the Europeans will hear you again - but if they have anything to say in return, will you have the slightest interest in listening?

Perhaps this sort of thing plays well at home - "strong leadership", and all that - though having seen Bush's steadily declining approval ratings in American opinion polls, I'm not so sure. What is certain is that when Bush took office, one widely-expressed concern was that he would alienate America's allies, and make his country more isolated in the world.

Those fears certainly appear to have been justified.

The annual Eurovision Song Contest has long been a byword for bad taste. Each year, most of Europe's nations send bands and singers to attempt to win votes from juries around the continent. In 1974, the contest launched the career of ABBA, but that's as good as it ever got. By and large, lowest-common-denominator singalongs have dominated.

So I was a little alarmed to hear of a new European Union initiative which calls to mind the notorious contest. Each of the 13 nations currently applying to join the EU has been asked to supply two songs to be included on a compilation double CD entitled "Music Sans Frontieres". The CD set will not be sold in shops. Instead, copies will be given away free to all the members of the European Parliament at a forthcoming conference on the cultural integration of new EU members.

The implications of this are frankly alarming. Have the leading lights of Turkish trance and Maltese metal been rushed into studios and told that the future of their nation's economies could depend on them? Will the 13 nations' applications actually be affected by the quality of their contributions to the CD? Will the EU soon be putting out statements like:
'The Estonian application for membership has been rejected. Their economy meets all the entry requirements, but man, their tunes suck big time'?

As ABBA once sang: what's the name of the game?

Ormondroyd

19.07.01. Front Page

Back Issue Page