Monday, 22 February 2010
The Worst Man for the Job
The internet guerrillas got it right; my, how they got it right: the use of the movie Downfall as an amusing comment on the decline of the Brown Reich was just so appropriate. There he is, the carpet-chewing, bullying, ranting Fuehrer, terrorising his staff with his unpredictable outbursts; paranoid, fearful, in a state of constant denial.
I don’t think I’ve ever read The Observer so thoroughly; there was just so much meat, so much to feast on. I’m really looking forward to reading Andrew Rawnsley’s The End of the Party, extracts from which, explosive extracts, appeared on Sunday. And explosive really is the operative word.
Yes, it is a personalisation of politics; it is an intense scrutiny on Brown’s capacity, incapacity, rather, for the leadership of this country. Did he not invite this scrutiny himself? I am the best man for the job, he said, this is no time for a novice; this is the time for me.
I suppose some of you read the extracts published yesterday, or picked up on the gist of them here, or from television reports. For those who have not they are altogether stunning. Our Prime Minister’s abusive conduct towards staff at all levels, including quite junior staff like typists, was so bad that he was effectively ‘reprimanded’ by Sir Gus O’Donnell, the cabinet secretary, who told him this was no way to get things done. I saw Brown with that mad misplaced grin being interviewed on television news last night, trying to deny the story, a story of missiles and moods, of effing and blinding and things that go bump in the night.
I’m not going to give a blow by blow account; a few examples will suffice. People were frightened of him because he was always shouting, constantly blaming others when things went wrong. Objects were thrown at people, anything from mobile phones to coke cans. One civil servant applying for a position in Number 10 was asked at the interview if he could cope with “extreme verbal abuse”. The poor man was so scared by the description of what working with Dismal Gordon was like that he simply withdrew his application.
While travelling in his official car Brown was told news that made in clench his fist and swing it back, The aid beside him cowered, fearing he was about to be hit in the face. Instead the fist crashed into the passenger seat in front. He hit the upholstery so regularly that sitting in front of him was considered one of the worst duties among the accompanying protection squad.
Add to this the kind of language favoured by the man then one begins to get a more fully rounded picture. In advance of a meeting of the European Council, Stewart Wood, a senior advisor and a Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, arranged a lunchtime reception for the ambassadors, to be held in Downing Street. When Wood tried to brief him Brown yelled, “Why have I got to meet these fucking people? Why are you making me meet these fucking people? I don’t want to meet these fucking people”. He then shoved the shaken Wood aside.
It goes on like this. There are also tales of plots and intrigues, including one involving Jack Straw, which would not have been out of place in the Byzantine court. Oh, they could plot and intrigue alright but not one of them had the courage to act in a way that might have saved themselves, their party and this benighted government.
Rawnsley has based his book on extensive research, on thousands of interviews with some of the principle figures of New Labour over the years. Some five hundred people contributed specifically to the book itself. But he has been careful not to let animosity and hatred-and there is so much of that- speak for itself. He only included incidents of abusive behaviour, he says in an accompanying article, once he had attained confirmation from impeccable sources. Some episodes, though carrying a high degree of verisimilitude, were excluded because the proof was not cast iron –“Only once I was satisfied by the veracity of the story did it go into the book. The sources are 24 carat.”
I’m not going to say that this is a shocking story because I am no longer shocked by anything that happens in British politics. Even so, it’s sad to see the senior political office in the land degenerate in such a way; for power to devolve on a man such as this, a man who has neither the capacity nor the temperament for leadership; a individual who is so clearly the worst man for the job.
How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places
Posted by Anastasia F-B at 16:19
Labels: gordon brown, labour government
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He will not leave though.ReplyDelete
Like Hitler. :-))ReplyDelete
A "nice" piece of alliteration? Tut, tut, Ana. Did they never teach you at that posh school of yours to strenuously abjure the proletarian "nice"? (Apols for that split infinitive btw).ReplyDelete
Do I detect a wholly understandable attempt on your part to adopt protective colouring on this site* in your choice of words, a kind of written equivalent of Tony Blair's occasional estuary vowels and glottal stops?
Did you really mean to say: "an autologously alphabetical aggregation achieving an artefactual alliteration"?
Nope, I didn't think you did... ;-) That's just me, a grammar school boy, showing off - a sign no doubt of a deep-seated inferiority complex vis-à-vis those who've benefited from a private school education.
Re your theme: years and years ago - probably at least 7 or 8, I read an amazingly prophetic article by a lady journalist that took the line "Come, come, Gordon, you've set your sights on getting the top job, despite knowing that you'd hate every minute of it, given all the meeting people and chores involved - the impromptu little welcome speeches, having to be nice to people all the time. Admit it, Gordon, Tony Blair is a natural at such things, so why not content yourself with your present job? It's not as if being Chancellor marks you out a failure in life ... " (or words to that effect!)
It's called the Peter Principle in operation - organizations, in this case NuLab, displaying a self-destructive tendency to promote staff to their natural level of incompetence...
* Copied to MyT under a new username, sciencebod having been zapped!
Yes, I knew it was you. Anyway, you got me bang to rights, guv. :-))ReplyDelete
“Why have I got to meet these fucking people? Why are you making me meet these fucking people? I don’t want to meet these fucking people”ReplyDelete
That's absurdly petulant, and typically banal :S - not even enthusiastic bullying, does this man not enjoy anything? The Prime Mentalist is unhinged, and appearances on TV with Piers Morgan won't change my impressions of him as an all-round ****. I'm sure it's his sycophancy which makes him lash out. Eager to please & liked less for it, so takes it out on those doing their best to make him presentable to a nation which despises him, and a world which doesn't listen to him. He'll degrade himself to the extent we'll probably see him making an appearance on Britains Got Talent for cheap votes; I hear that he has a talent for telling courageous stories about corageous people in corageous circumstances with corageous motives and corageous results *bangs head against wall*.
History won't remember him well. I might send him a DVD copy of The Book of Eli as a consolation for being outed after the G.E. It's the only hope he'll have of being forgotten.
No, he will not be well-remembered, Jimmy. Casting my eye over the record right back to Walpole I simply can't alight on an individual less suited to the job. Honestly, being objective as I can, I think the man has mental health problems.ReplyDelete