Who wouldn't kill to be a fly on the wall at a coffee morning involving Damian Green and his civil servant nemesis, David Normington? Normington, the home office boss who sent the rozzers round to arrest the shadow home secretary for "misconduct in public office," just kicked off the biggest row about MPs' privileges since Charles I stormed into the house with a handful of cavaliers in 1642. But, come January, Green will pop over to home office HQ for a friendly chat with his new foe as part of a convention allowing the opposition access to the Whitehall machine before each election—just in case they win.
These "Douglas Home rules," named after the man who introduced them, are designed to smooth the transition of power. They used to happen only just before a poll. But the pow-wows were brought forward (to begin this January) in a Blairite openness wheeze none-too-popular with his successor. Now it seems these "access arrangements" will become a regular fixture, even though they aren't written down, and no one seems to know how often the chats will be or what should be discussed. David Halpern, of the Institute for Government, thinks there could be "some tremendously awkward meetings in the new year." Amusingly, David Cameron has stoked the embarrassment by asking an ex-government adviser for a "frank assessment" of whether top mandarins are up to snuff. After Greengate, Normington can hope for a beta double minus at best, with the prospect of bin bag duty if the Tories get in. Hardly the best backdrop for a full and frank "get to know you" session.
BHL's right to buy
The Queen's speech contained a new police bill that will tackle "the demand for prostitution" with tougher measures against those seeking such services. Perhaps someone should tell the French philosopher Bernard Henri-Lévy—no stranger to controversy—who took the opportunity of a recent Templeton debate on the free market to note the "social virtue of prostitution" in "avoiding or diminishing the quantity of real violence" against women. As he explained, "countries where sex is completely out of the free civilised relations which are called the democratic market" also tend to be places "where women or little girls are buried alive because they committed the crime to look at the man who was not their promised husband." Something one can't imagine the Queen reading out next year.
Recession winners
It's not just pawn shops, pound stores and debt collectors: Our Boys may be set to prosper in these trying times. Desperate to avoid the credit crunch, Americans are queueing to sign up in what their army is calling the best recruitment round in years. "Difficult economic times give us an opening," said one Pentagon supremo, although the economy must surely be grim to make Baghdad's bazaars seem a good bet for Christmas shopping. No word yet if more Brits are also planning snowball fights in Basra, but the recession is creating some winners at home. Francophobes may relish the news that expat French bankers are leapfrogging back across the channel from their west London pads to relax at the taxpayer's pleasure in belle Paris. They may even take up that most Gallic occupation: pontification in higher education. Baffled Brits, meanwhile, might consider a less glamorous retreat: Allan Bell, treasury minister for the Isle of Man, has boasted of its recession-proof credentials after "25 years of unbroken growth" (and their top rate of income tax is just 18 per cent). A little colder, but probably more comfortable, than Basra.
Jewish exodus
Trouble in Jewish think tank land. Tony Lerman has stepped down as the director of the Institute for Jewish Policy Research (JPR). It appears amicable enough: he returned for his second stint as director three years ago and has achieved his main goals, says the press release. But everyone knows his departure is deeply political. Lerman's liberal views—on Palestine and lots of other things—made enemies among those opposed to such free thinking, including on the influential Board of Deputies. Among his main crimes in their eyes is opposition to hysteria about antisemitism. His views are summed up in the preamble to an essay he wrote for Prospect in August 2002: "Anti-Jewish action by Muslim youths is not classic European antisemitism in a new form. In fact, European Jews have never enjoyed such freedom and success. So, why the fuss? A mix of paranoia and a means of deflecting criticism from Israel." Such non-tribal thinking clearly doesn't go down well in the community. And that's a shame.
Not so badly off…
"Labour's budgets," wailed a recent report in the Sunday Times, "have left the average family… £1,283 a year immediately worse off than in 1997." This sad news was soon luridly repeated elsewhere. Yet, writes Harvey Cole, the Institute of Fiscal Studies confirm an elementary journalistic bungle. Their data looked only at tax and benefit changes since 1997, adjusting for inflation. But, as any numerate undergraduate could explain, the "average family" still got richer over the last decade, as incomes rose. Economics 101, it seems, is no longer mandatory on Fleet Street.
What a scrooge. Not content with trousering a record£95m haul at Sotheby's in September, Damien Hirst showed true Christmas spirit just a few weeks later by ditching many of the minions at his company, Science Ltd, who had helped amass his fortune. Toiling in this latter-day Leonardo's studio, these art elves turned out countless items, reportedly on pitifully small pay and with scant instruction from the Britart king (apart from when he allegedly fired a hapless "pill polisher" because his pills weren't shiny enough). Prospect even hears that Hirst wasn't averse to packing them off to celebrity mansions to turn out a butterfly or two. For their troubles, nearly all the staff were given short-term contracts, making their "sacking" much easier.
Still, if Hirst finds the credit crunch bad for art, he can always reinvent himself as an economist. He got out of the art market right at the top, and responded to tough conditions by ruthlessly cutting his staff in half. Ex-employees should feel lucky they didn't end up displayed in formaldehyde too.
The Young ones
The Hugo Young Papers, the book of Young's notes from his interviews with British politicians of the past 30 years, was widely and favourably reviewed. But would the late Hugo himself have approved of the book? He wanted his papers to be available for researchers after his death, and this publication looks like a great triumph for openness. But as the notes were written up after "off the record" lunches permission was required before publication, and several subjects declined—not just Tony Blair (as was widely noted) and Peter Mandelson but, more mysteriously, Roy Hattersley. What's less well known is that people whose conversations are published were permitted to alter them—but we do not know who did so or by how much. Surely Gordon Brown's comments must have been spattered with "corrections."
TV Kangaroo crisis
How cruel fate is. Just as Channel 4 and ITV thought they'd found a miraculous saviour to stave off their inevitable collapse, it suddenly hops off. The oddly named "project Kangaroo," a pay-per-view version of the BBC's wildly successful free on-demand service, iPlayer, has just been stopped by the Competition Commission. A similar American service, no more sensibly branded as "Hulu," is a great success. Both these struggling British broadcasters hoped that the Kangaroo might plug balance sheet holes created by plummeting ad revenues. Desperate to save their skins, the channels argue that the government should overrule the commission in the national interest, as they did with Lloyds and HBOS. Living on a hop and prayer, it seems.
Since his thumping electoral victory, Barack Obama's "change" message has swiftly transmogrified into "got any change?" During December, loyal Obama supporters have received emails along these lines: "This holiday season, celebrate the historic achievement of our movement for change. Treat yourself or a loved one to a limited edition Obama fleece jacket. Make a donation of $50 or more right now and get an official Obama fleece to mark an amazing year."
At least, that's what some got. Others—depending on how deep their pockets proved during the campaign—may have been enticed by a request for $30 in exchange for an official Obama mug; or for $100 towards a limited edition T-shirt. Reading the small print reveals that only $30 is actually required for the hallowed T-shirt, but it's still an impressive development for a political machine claiming to be "powered by hope." Then again, the tasteful "Hope Charm: Our Price $35" available via Obama's online store does hint that a certain ruthlessness was involved in the $750m his campaign rustled up in total.
Of course, Illinois and Chicago have a rich history of political profiteering, as disgraced governor Rod Blagojevich has recently been proving. "I've got this thing and it's fucking golden, and, uh, uh, I'm just not giving it up for fuckin' nothing," he quipped of his power to name Obama's replacement in the Senate—yours for a cool $500,000. Sadly, the FBI didn't see the funny side. Best stick to mugs.
