As any fule kno, the old of today simply have no manners
As every parent knows, it isn’t easy, trying to teach a child manners. It gets even harder, however, when a child turns the tables – and tries to teach his parents manners.
Ever since our three-year-old son started to talk, my wife and I have been drumming the words “please” and “thank you” into him. I won’t pretend it’s been a total success. One thing I’ve learnt, from having a child: the word “please” in itself isn’t necessarily polite. It depends on the way you say it. When my son says it, he makes it sound somehow like an insult. “TV on, PLEASE!” he’ll bellow, in the manner of a commanding officer shouting an order at an especially unpromising rabble of new recruits.
There’s no getting away from it: he really is the boss. Even when he does say thank you, he makes clear that he’s in charge.
“Thank you!” he’ll bark – and then peer at me, expectantly.
I look back at him. There is a brief silence.
“Dada!” he’ll tut. “You’re supposed to say, ‘You’re welcome’!” “You’re welcome,” I say, obediently. My son shakes his head, as if wondering how on earth he came to raise such an ill-mannered father, and turns wearily back to his toys. I disappoint him even more deeply, however, when I tell him to hurry up and eat his dinner before it goes cold. He stares at me, almost in disbelief. “Say ‘Please’!” he prompts. “Please,” I say.
“OK,” he says, after a beat, and magnanimously picks up his fork. I can see what he’s thinking.
Honestly. The old of today. No manners, some of them.
A while ago the Government commissioned a series of studies analysing the likely impact of Brexit on the economy. It has now received the results. Yet, despite the threat of legal action from a group of campaigners, it is refusing to publish them. Why could this be?
Let’s take a look at the two possibilities.
1) The results of the studies are extremely good.
In these circumstances, the Government is quite right not to publish the findings. First of all, to do so would be deeply un-british. We are by nature a discreet, modest, selfeffacing people, not given to boasting or ostentation. Bragging about how rich we’re going to be after Brexit would be vulgar and unseemly. By resisting the temptation to show off about these glowing reports, the Government is demonstrating admirable restraint, and an exemplary understanding of traditional British values. In addition, publishing these exceptionally encouraging forecasts would undermine our negotiating position. After all, if the EU knew that after Brexit we will be far wealthier than they are, they would fly into a jealous rage, and plot to scupper everything. By giving Brussels the impression that the Government is a panicking shambles, Theresa May and her team are cleverly lulling our opponents into a false sense of security.
On to the second possibility. 2) The results of the studies are not quite so good, and possibly even a little bit bad.
This is of course highly unlikely but, for the sake of argument, let’s just imagine that the studies which the Government is keeping secret are in some way unfavourable. If so, it is quite right to withhold publication. After all, if voters were told that Brexit would require the Government to slash the NHS, Armed Forces and pensions, some might demand another referendum. But allowing the public to vote would be undemocratic, and could lead to the people defying the will of the people. Refusing to publish information in the public interest is therefore in the public interest.
Moreover, if the Government were to publish studies forecasting severe damage to the economy, it would undermine our negotiating position, by making Britain appear vulnerable. Much better to demonstrate our selfconfidence by commissioning impact assessments and then frantically covering up the results.
Whichever the reason, it is clear that the Government is acting responsibly, and deserves our support in its efforts to keep us in the dark. If the Government has to come clean, I for one will refuse to read the studies, and urge all decent patriots to do the same.
Columnists should never make predictions. But here’s mine anyway. One day, Armando Iannucci will be recognised as the greatest figure in British comedy history.
Just look at his record to date. First, he made On the Hour: the funniest British radio comedy of the past 30 years. Then he made The Day Today: the funniest British TV comedy of the past 30 years. Then he made I’m Alan Partridge: the funniest British sitcom of the past 30 years. Then The Thick of It, the funniest British political satire. Then Veep: the funniest American political satire.
That is a frankly ridiculous run of success. Personally, I think it already puts him up there with whoever you care to name: John Cleese, Ronnie Barker, Peter Cook, Galton & Simpson (the writers of Hancock’s Half Hour and Steptoe & Son). This weekend he’s got a new film out, The Death of Stalin, which he’s directed and co-written. The reviews are raves.
Of course, he hasn’t done all of this on his own. He isn’t a Peter Cook-style self-sufficient genius. (John Cleese once said that for other comedians, writing a three-minute sketch would take a day. For Cook it would take three minutes.)
Iannucci is different. He’s a team player. Or rather, a manager. He works with the best: Chris Morris, Steve Coogan, Julia Louis-dreyfus. For each new project, he pulls together a squad of the most talented writers and actors, and shapes their brilliance.
Normally in this country, someone has to die before we realise just how good they were. Iannucci is only 53, so I hope the recognition he deserves is still a long way off.
FOLLOW Michael Deacon on Twitter @Michaelpdeacon; read more at telegraph.co.uk/opinion