The Daily Telegraph

Charles Moore:

- CHARLES MOORE OORE NOTEBOOK

‘New Labour got rid of the bulk of hereditary lords (most of whom had the tact not to claim money anyway)’

It may be understand­able that Spain wants Gibraltar, since the Rock is attached to it. I am not an expert on the Treaty of Utrecht, under which, in 1713, Spain ceded Gibraltar to Great Britain in perpetuity, but it seems odd that, in the 21st century, anyone takes seriously the claim to repossess it. This pointless reconquist­a was a fixation of General Franco, the country’s Right-wing dictator until his death more than 40 years ago.

Spain is now taking advantage of the Brexit process to have another go. When the view of the Gibraltari­ans was last sought – after a sneaky attempt by the Blair government to establish joint sovereignt­y with Spain in 2002 – 17,900 inhabitant­s voted to remain wholly British. Only 187 voted to change. There is no evidence that this proportion is different today.

So why would Spain want to grab a place where virtually no resident wants it? The same applies to Argentina’s aspiration­s for the Falkland Islands. In Britain, we have many dark chapters in our colonial history, but I cannot think of a single modern example of trying to re-colonise a territory where the welcoming party could not even fill a church hall. What is it in Hispanic culture that makes a romantic obsession with a piece of land ignore the wishes of the actual people who live in it? Yet again, it is claimed, some peers are turning up at the House of Lords and collecting their £300-a-day allowance without doing any work. “Work” is defined here as speaking or asking questions in the chamber, sitting on a committee session, or voting. I remain defiantly unshocked by these revelation­s.

First, the allowance sets no such conditions of “work”: it is simply for attending, so no one is necessaril­y cheating. If peers are to be paid at all, surely it is much better and cheaper that they get allowances – which do not accrue pensions and fringe benefits – than salaries. The allowances are payable only on days when the House sits.

More important, has anyone tried to imagine how appalling the Lords would be if everyone present did speak, vote and sit on committees? Its business would be completely gummed up. Peers should speak only if they truly need to: far too many of them fail to observe this rule already. It is a legitimate part of parliament­ary life to turn up, answer letters, discuss issues with colleagues, meet members of the public who wish to bring a matter to your attention and so on without even entering the chamber.

It is true, of course, that there are far too many peers. This is because New Labour got rid of the great bulk of the hereditari­es (most of whom had the tact not to turn up and not to claim money anyway), and replaced them with ever-larger numbers of placemen. The placemen tend to feel they should show their faces a bit. So it sounds a good idea to get rid of, say, half of them. But who would get rid of them? The same overmighty executive and party machines that put them in. Independen­t people would be ejected and cronies would remain.

All attempts at Lords reform that do not involve direct election are a waste of time. And all reforms that do involve direct election are bound to alter the balance of the constituti­on by challengin­g the dominance of the Commons. This may or may not be a good idea, but we have quite enough change on our hands with Brexit. So the prudent thing to do about the Lords is to fulfil the traditiona­l caricature of living like a lord – absolutely nothing. How my heart was lifted by the sight of a hundred or so yellow cars driving into the National Trustinfes­ted Cotswold village of Bibury. The yellow peril was in retaliatio­n for the harsh treatment of an 84-yearold retired dentist named Peter Maddox, who lives in a cottage there. His yellow Vauxhall Corsa offended other residents, who considered it not in keeping. Someone scratched “MOVE” on its bonnet. Now Mr Maddox knows he is not alone.

I cannot pretend to like yellow cars, but they are, at least, a sign of life, and that is what too many inhabitant­s of picture-postcard villages, perhaps without meaning to, are always squashing. If you walk down their pristine streets, you often notice dainty dwellings called The Old School-house, Dairy, Forge, Oast-house and so on. Imagine the outcry if they were filled once again with pullulatin­g playground­s, cows and trundling milk-churns at 5am, furnaces and hops. People speak fondly of “a village atmosphere”, but what they often mean is the silence of a place filled with well-off people but with no economic activity of its own. No such village ever existed until about 50 years ago.

As someone who has lived in one village for my first 20 years and another for half my adult life, I constantly give thanks that neither of them is particular­ly pretty. It makes the houses cheaper (though still, goodness knows, expensive enough) and the people kinder. If Mr Maddox wants to move himself and his yellow car to our village, I promise not to scratch it, but to write in the dirt which I hope he will allow to accumulate on its back window, “PLEASE STAY”.

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