Tuesday, September 29, 2015

#lab15 The wrong JC?

You could tell it was going to be different when he joined in his own standing ovation even before he spoke.
Had he forgotten he was the new leader and was he waiting for someone else to join him on stage?
Had the delegates confused their JC’s and the Second Coming re-located to Brighton?

In times past the arrival of the latest messiah would have been choreographed with a video showing him meeting and curing ordinary people.
Music would have been added and somebody from the X Factor booked to do the son et lumiere for the entrance.
This time it was Jeremy Corbyn wearing a tie.

It was Bertie Wooster who once asked: “ What do ties matter, Jeeves, at a time like this?” 
“There is no time sir, at which ties do not matter,” he replied.
And Jeeves was right; in newer-than-new Labour, the wearing of the tie indicates something serious is about to be said.

It was a red tie of course, worn with an ensemble confirming the new Labour  leader’s special relationship with Islington’s charity shops.
Not that anybody in the hall cared; at least not those on the left who had spent a lifetime waiting for one of their own to get the top job.
They clapped him, he clapped them, they all clapped each other until suddenly he remembered why he was there.

It was never going to be easy to make a speech to a Labour conference which had happily ignored him for the last 30 years.
But at least he shared that in common with many of the delegates and both were ready to spell out the new order.
He had disdained the professional speech writers and joke makers and it showed. He stopped in mid-sentence ambushed by applause. He slipped into shouting as he lost his way with the autocue.
The delegates looked delighted, the shadow cabinet looked pained.

They sat up front, the old order, as Jeremy complimented them joining the team and told the hall in future the members would decide.
New politics, said Labour’s new leader; new niceness, nothing nasty, no insults, all working together.
Jeremy’s BF, Shadow Chancellor John McDonnell, grimaced with the look of a man who already had a list.

Then suddenly, with 30 years of words off his chest, Jeremy stopped.
The delegates, who apparently had been listening to someone else, went beserk again and Jeremy looked stunned again.

This one could run and run.