‘A Brighter Future’? More like a Danker Gloaming
SMOKE was in the air last night when Tim Farron launched his Lib Dem party’s general election manifesto. No, it really was. Mr Farron, for some Godforsaken reason that may puzzle political scientists for generations, chose to hold the event in a damp, ill-lit nightclub in the East End of London.
Mr Farron made a lively, finger-pointing, party conference-style speech but its content was dwarfed by the oddness of the setting. It certainly did not lay out any serious policy proposals, save a broad promise of a second referendum on the EU.
Politics as stunt. Policy as an afterthought (our tax proposals and national defence ideas? – see footnotes, you gullible voters). This was quite the silliest venue I have known for a manifesto launch in all the years I have been doing this strange job. And, being a nightclub, some chump on the mixing desks turned on the smoke machine. To give it atmosphere, see?
Gas masks, lads! Sorry, madam. Oh, you’re not a woman. You’re Vince Cable! Yes, Vince was there, a strained grin on his face. At this time of evening, should he not have been at home with a nice mug of Horlicks? The Cleggs were there, too, Mr and Senora. But I did not spot Ming Campbell. Perhaps he had forgotten to bring his ID for the heavy on the door.
As 500 or so of us packed into the Oval Space near Bethnal Green on the wettest evening of the year, the stage was soon hard to discern at the far end of the room. The activists had been forced to queue for ages outside. By the time they were let in they resembled half-drowned rats.
‘A Brighter Future’ said Lib Dem campaign posters which had been placed around the space. ‘A Danker Gloaming’ might have been more accurate.
The place was fugging up with a pong of rain- drenched clothes, creaky Lib Dems with spectacles and comb-over hairdos stumbling in, wringing wet (in both senses). Their glasses immediately fogged up and they couldn’t see a blinking thing. The place soon stank like a sports changing room. Initially we were blasted out by pop music: Tomorrow I’ll Follow the Sun, All I Need is the Air That I Breathe and some UB40. Quite loud. The activists – I spotted several hearing aids – looked at each other with moony incomprehension, not able to understand a word anyone was saying to them. An old boy to my left started bopping arthitically. It was like watching someone langlauf through glue. EVENTUALLY
a woman called Daisy took the stage and said she was Mr Farron’s ‘ Shadow Spokesman For Young People’. She looked about 40 but by Lib Dem standards that is kindergarten. She begged everyone to put money in buckets to raise funds for the party. The raffle winner would earn the right to go jogging with Tim Farron in Hyde Park. The activists booed mentions of Tory Brexiteers. Finally, after a loud rendition of Britain’s Eurovision Song Contest entry (Never Give Up), little Farron bounced to the lectern in an electric blue suit. Behind him various Young People had been arranged. They were a lot younger than most of the people on the other side of the stage.
In his speech, Mr Farron spoke of his desire for a kinder Britain where people were polite to one another. He then tore into Nigel Farage and said Ukip had taken over the Tory Party.
‘Labour has lost its purpose but we have found ours,’ he said under these strobe lights and through this miasma of dry ice. ‘They have lost the right to call themselves the Opposition.’ His accent was more glottal- stoppy ( almost Blairish at times) than normal. Above him a fan whirred, taking out some of the hot air. ‘I am here,’ he screamed, ‘to tell you that we won’t roll over...This is your chance to change Britain’s future!’
Maybe it is. But by the end it was so sweaty in the room I was more interested in changing my smalls.