Disrespect for the state is back in fashion, only this time around it’s not merely the domain of the eco-teen and the stoned, harmless Dylan fan. In the past six months, rather mature, loft-dwelling types have started to boast ever more loudly about breaking petty by-laws and blatantly infringing tax and business rules.
This is only the tip of the iceberg of what may prove to be the biggest revival in college-style rebellion since Billy Bragg joined Red Wedge. Suddenly, swearing at the telly whenever a minister appears (Alan Milburn and Barbara Roche are the current favourites) is as cool as living in Hoxton. Professing a loathing for David Blunkett is as desirable as having a private show at the Tate Modern. Over carrot soup, TV producers and PR gurus discuss in depth their favourite Martin Rowson cartoon and Rory Bremner sketch (the Ali Campbell one wins), but ignore Newsnight and Question Time as “too political”.
All this mini-subversion and need for satire seemed to have died out in the wake of new Labour’s election victory. With spliff-smoking rockers invited to Downing Street and the new, approachable, call-me-Tone as PM, those of us who grew up to the sounds of The Clash felt reassured by the new breed of (wannabe) trendy and earnest youngsters dancing at the Festival Hall.
How young and foolish we were. It’s still the same old story, sigh the NW1 cynics. Taking liberties with voters’ patience and testing the limits of power is what makes the career politician and his business chum more successful than the competition.
Just look at Michael Meacher’s latest appointment to the Environment Agency for an example of the sort of breathtaking arrogance that makes you want to bounce a council-tax cheque, boycott a burger bar or plant flowers in Parliament Square. The new deputy chair of the Environment Agency is a man who until recently had shares in a firm that has been prosecuted by the Agency five times in the past three years. Christopher Hampson was also, to top it all, an executive director of ICI, which heads the Environment Agency’s own “Hall of Shame”. For these services to nature, he is rewarded with a government post and over £20,000 a year.
Hampson’s outrageous appointment has apparently made Michael Meacher “very pleased”. He must be thrilled because it confirms his place among the untouchable elite.
It’s not just the glitterati in politics who have revived the fashion for power-bashing. Their mates, the sort of legal and media jet-set that Nick Cohen and others have dubbed the “new establishment”, all seem to feel above reproof now that Peter’s Friends are running parliament. Little do they know that they are becoming the inspiration for a nation of middle-class revolutionaries.
I, too, have leapt into the fray and have started both bending the law and trying to get the better of big business as a part of my daily routine. Since January alone, I’ve withheld money from London Underground (buying black-market tickets); refused to pay a parking fine (I was two minutes late); and ripped off Harrods (I refused to pay £1 just to pee).
I’m not the only one behaving badly. The worse government ministers and certain patrons of the media behave, the more respectable types will start acting like naughty children with no respect for the headmaster. In just three weeks, more than 300 City workers have been caught without any ticket whatsoever at Cannon Street and Victoria stations. Hundreds more simply buy a one-stop ticket in the City and use it to travel all the way home to Kent.
Once upon a time, I would have thought this petty fraud just another example of executive greed. Now I’m not so sure. Could the suit-wearers finally be revolting on behalf of us all at the disgraceful state of our railway system? Are the well-heeled protesting against rising fares and “toothless” industry watchdogs every time they nervously dodge the full fare? Yes, brothers. It’s as Marx always said: a revolution for the workers cannot begin without first getting the comfortably-off on side.
None of this radical behaviour, however, has so far stopped the power-brokers from behaving badly. Sinn Fein’s latest “initiative” on decommissioning, for example, bears no relation to the original agreement, but has once again stolen the agenda from the Unionists. Even more audacious has been the government’s further funding of the Dome. Lord Falconer must be panting at the sheer nerve it takes to deprive community schemes of £29m in order to save “face”. And it still rankles those of us struggling under the strain of rising mortgage repayments to find that a Cabinet minister gets a promotion despite his failure to fill out his building-society forms properly.
Philip Gould had better set up a forum to study the phenomenon of the radicchio radicals soon. Otherwise, the only person in London paying the full fare on his way to work will be Ken Livingstone.
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