Monsieur Fancypants wants to terrify us with Norman arrows
THOSe French have an odd idea of diplomacy and tact. We help them with their military operations in Africa – as will be confirmed by Theresa May today – and they respond by sending us the Bayeux Tapestry for a short visit. The Bayeux ruddy Tapestry!
It glorifies a French invasion of england that led to a long, cruel period of colonial repression and invasive bureaucracy. The Battle of Hastings in 1066 was a defeat for english sovereignty even worse than the Heathites’ craven surrender to Brussels in the second half of the 20th century. The tapestry celebrates the defeat of proto-Brexiteer Harold Godwinson, stalwart english king. He took one in the eye and was defeated by surly William of Normandy.
Monsieur Fancypants Macron, newish president of France, perhaps hopes that when we see the tapestry we will be so overpowered by terror of Norman arrows that we rethink our magnificent decision to quit the european empire. Does M Macron, who will visit Britain today, envisage a 21st-century successor tapestry showing a leader of the Anglo-Saxons – Duke Boris or the earl of Farage – being laid low by a Norman’s cunning blow? Some pro-european crawlers have already been at this.
Imagine the squealing and facefanning that would ensue if we offered the French the temporary loan of a fine artwork that celebrated the Battle of Waterloo.
It is just as well we are made of more forgiving stuff. In the Commons at PMQs yesterday, Huw Merriman (Con, Bexhill and Battle) requested that the tapestry be placed on display in his constituency, where the battle was held. This elicited harrumphs from the Home Secretary, Amber Rudd (Hastings), who made plain that her constituency might also have a claim.
MRMerriman, admitting that he was sorrowful ‘the Normans gave the Saxons six of the best’ that day in 1066, argued that there was little point displaying the tapestry in London. If visitors to the capital wanted to gawp at two sides whacking the life out of one another, they simply had to visit the spectators’ gallery of the Commons.
If only yesterday had brought some competent generalship. Instead we had a doddery Jeremy Corbyn trying to ask Mrs May about the collapse of Carillion, that private company given multiple millions to fulfil certain state-paid services.
Mr Corbyn did not seem entirely on top of the capitalist details. He said the Government should have done more to ‘manage’ Carillion. Mrs May said that, er, the whole point of hiring outside companies was that the Government was a customer, not a manager, and was therefore not in the frame for bailing out a private company. Mr Corbyn countered that the Government should have walked away from Carillion once it offered a profits warning. Mrs May gently started to explain that a profits warning only meant a company did not expect to make as much money as had been envisaged. If we always walked away from companies issuing profits warnings, many more businesses would go bust, she said.
Mr Corbyn became ratty. After a spiel about how Carillion’s share price had fallen, he said: ‘It looks like the Government was handing Carillion public contracts either to keep the company afloat, which clearly hasn’t worked, or it was just deeply negligent of the crisis that was coming down the line.’ And with that he ambled back to his place and sat down.
Mrs May was baffled. ‘ I’m very happy to answer questions when the Rt Hon Gentleman asks one,’ she said. But in this case ‘he didn’t’. So she, too, sat down.
Labour MPs went nuts. Dawn Butler, as ever sitting next to Mr Corbyn, mouthed ‘ pa- fet- ic!’ Tom Watson, who after weight loss looks a little like Spongebob Squarepants, sucked his cheeks. Mr Corbyn started snarling at the Tory benches, which had enjoyed Mrs May’s uncharacteristically brisk repartee.
Mr Corbyn was so bad, maybe he should think of outsourcing his questions for future PMQs.