Swinging Sixties still had an air of dignity
THOSE with a few years on the clock might care to cast the memory cells back to the year 1963. Those for whom that is pre-history, read on. It was a remarkable year, riddled from start to finish with scandals in high places. There was the Headless Man affair. Photos circulated of a man with head photoshopped out of the pictures while he took his pleasure with the Duchess of Argyll who was a very randy lady indeed. Was it a senior minister? No, it turned out to be a Hollywood actor.
There were other photos of a man waiting table in flimsy knickers and bra, with a notice asking diners to whip him if they were dissatisfied with the service. A kinky high-up? The country was agog but I do not recall if he was ever exposed. But dominating the whole year was the Christine Keeler affair.
Reports emerged of louche house parties at Cliveden, seat of the Astors, now a highly respectable spa and restaurant. Those attending included call girls such as Christine Keeler and Mandy RiceDavies, plus their clients. Miss Keeler’s turned out to be the Minister for War, the Right Honourable John Profumo and a Soviet diplomat, probably a spy. A tidy mix in the aftermath of the Philby-Burgess-Maclean scandals, in short, the government of Harold Macmillan was wreathed in sleaze.
Careers crashed, headlines were hysterical, Old Bailey trials kept the country agog, the two girls became international stars. I only mention all this because I cannot recall any year since when there were so many accusations being
hurled about that seemed to involve the incumbent Tory government. Back then it was their flies they could not keep buttoned up; now it’s their bank accounts as well.
Mind you, though poor, elderly Macmillan was bewildered by it all, he had a team round him that could cope. Out went the Minister to a lifetime of voluntary work in
the East End. The girls got quite unnecessary jail terms. Their pimp Stephen Ward committed a most appreciated suicide awaiting sentence. The nation had a last giggle then settled down.The ship of state sailed on. The government did not even fall. In October 1963 an exhausted Macmillan retired, but with dignity.
That last word is interesting
because we do not have it any more – at least not in high places. We witness an ongoing shambles led by and presided over by a shambolic premier who retains the support of a diminishing majority of the people because of his surface joviality and the absence of any viable replacement. One even begins to long for the appearance of the occasional call girl!