Commissioner Kinnock is unwell. Nothing too serious. Just that queasy sensation in the pit of the stomach which all politicians suffer when they realise they've blown it.
Theories abound as to why Kinnock rubbished the EU's strategy for monetary union and enlargement to eastern Europe. The transport commissioner is said to be bored staring at toy planes in his office. He has no more to say about motorways and baggage handling deregulation. Our Neil wanted to make mischief. So he made a few "private remarks" to a Siemens seminar which accidentally-on-purpose ended up in the press.
This cover story is as scantily clad as a Page Three pin-up. Kinnock has been bursting to tell the world what he thinks about Emu and enlargement. A Chatham House speech had to be emasculated at the last moment because it contained heretical remarks about the EU's top policy priorities.
The truth is that Kinnock is a sceptic when it comes to grand visions. He's like an awful lot of the Labour party, in fact. He doesn't feel the Euro-religion in his guts and after nearly a year in Brussels he shows little sign of changing. As one insider said about the Siemens speech: it was written in Ealing for an audience in Merthyr Tydfil. Nobody can accuse Kinnock of being a Little Englander, but his horizons don't stretch much beyond the Welsh valleys.
Kinnock's apostasy is a lesson to those na? souls who look to New Labour to help everyone out of a hole at next year's IGC. Most EU leaders have given up on John Major and are waiting to strike a deal with the next UK government. They expect Prime Minister Blair to deliver. Even Deutsche Bank has caught on. Hilmar Kopper, its chairman, said the other day that he looked forward to the UK joining Emu under the "inspired leadership" of Blair. Kopper should have a word with Robin Cook or John Prescott.
Cook's first speech in Brussels as shadow foreign secretary was so Euro-sceptical in tone that it could have been penned by Tory Central Office. Prescott is best known for his performance at the European socialists's summit in Essen a year ago. The deputy Labour leader rattled off demands for amendments to a Euro-friendly draft communiqu?ith such gusto that comrades shook their heads in amazement. Madame Elisabeth Guigou, the former French European affairs minister, says Prescott's dogged defence of British sensibilities reminded her most of Margaret Thatcher.
Neil Kinnock was slapped down by Jacques Santer for doubting the 1999 timetable for a single currency.
The other renegade commissioner, Ritt Bjerregaard, is doing rather better. Bjerregaard, a Dane who handles the environment portfolio, stands to pick up a tidy sum for her publishing exploits.
You will recall that Bjerregaard, a.k.a the Ice Queen, caused a furore when tittle-tattle from her Brussels diary appeared in a Danish newspaper. The fuss seemed a little unfair because another commissioner-Erkki L?anen, a Finn who handles budgetary matters-had already published his own diary. But nobody reads Finnish, and everyone thinks L?anen is a golden boy because he can read a balance sheet.
Under pressure from Santer, Bjerregaard withdrew her diary. Several papers went ahead with publication. Bjerregaard has now sued successfully for infringement of copyright. She has collected Dkr 30,000 against two journals; and there's still a Dkr 5m claim against the Danish daily Politiken.
Under the commission's new code of conduct, ordered as a result of the Bjerregaard affair, commissioners are banned from accepting speaking fees and other outside income. So is Ritt handing over her ill-gotten gains? Not exactly. It seems she must receive some damages in order to justify her claim to be an injured party. Conclusion: it really does pay to get on the wrong side of Jacques Santer.
Long faces in Sir Leon Brittan's cabinet. Colin Budd, the FO man in charge, is leaving for a job in the UK cabinet office, handling intelligence matters. Budd has spent two years controlling a commissioner with a runaway ego and a private staff who think they're the best in town.
The loser in the subsequent shake-up has been Robert Madelin, a trade expert with a taste for natty suits. Madelin steered Sir Leon through the Gatt talks and thought he deserved the top job. He'd jump ship tomorrow, except his lowly commission rank means he would only land a medium-sized job elsewhere in the bureaucracy. Now he must be nice to his new boss, Ivan Rogers, ex-private secretary to Kenneth Clarke. Knowing super-smug Madelin, this looks like a super-human task.
Talking of The Boss, the troops are becoming restive-even with all the talk of unexpected successes at the Madrid summit. A French official offers a pungent verdict on Santer's first 12 months: "C'est comme le pee-pee d'un chat."
