Way of the World Michael Deacon

On International Women’s Day, the shadow minister for women, who is a woman, revealed on Woman’s Hour that she doesn’t know what the word “woman” means. Anneliese Dodds has been widely mocked for this, but personally

I feel sorry for her. I’m sure that, in preparation for the interview, she did her best to find out the answer. But unfortunately no one else in the Labour Party these days seems to know what the word “woman” means either, so they couldn’t help.

Still, not to worry. Everything will be all right once Labour has won the next general election. The new government can appoint Ms Dodds as minister for people, declare March 8 to be International People’s Day, and order Radio 4 to change the name of its programme to People’s Hour. This will not only be more inclusive, but ensure that all possible confusion will be avoided.

In the meantime, though, Labour has a problem. The interview with Ms Dodds may have shaken voters’ faith in the shadow cabinet as a whole. They will fear that other shadow ministers are as much in the dark about their own brief as Ms Dodds is about hers.

After all, the shadow minister for women doesn’t know what a woman is. What if the shadow minister for transport doesn’t know what a bus is, or can’t tell the difference between a tricycle and a jumbo jet? What if the shadow minister for Wales thinks it’s her job to protect ocean wildlife? What if the shadow home secretary thinks she’s in charge of wallpaper and soft furnishings?

Before the next general election comes round, voters will need reassurance. Therefore, every member of Sir Keir Starmer’s top team must be challenged to demonstrate that he or she is absolutely on top of his or her brief. The next time they are interviewed on television or radio, the shadow minister for food must be asked what a sausage is, the shadow minister for culture must be asked what a trumpet is, and the shadow minister for rural affairs must be asked what a cow is.

“Well, of course it really all depends on how you define the word ‘cow’. Obviously, some cows produce wool and go baa, but others go cluck and lay eggs…”

MPs will have taken great interest in the report on John Bercow’s alleged bullying of his staff. Not least because, as Speaker, he spent 10 years giving them unsolicited lessons in anger management. Practically any time an MP raised his voice in the Commons, Mr Bercow would hop to his feet, and urge him to “Calm yourself, man!”

Alternatively, he would enjoin the erring MP to “take up yoga, or some other similarly therapeutic and calming activity”. Or advise him to “go and lie down for a little while, you will feel better at the end of it”. Or even suggest he “take a pill, if necessary”.

Most commonly, though, Mr Bercow would encourage the MP to “take some sort of soothing medicament”. Over the years he used this phrase again and again. Possibly he thought of it as his catchphrase, and fondly imagined it being parroted across the country by legions of fans, like a line from Little Britain or The Fast Show.

At any rate, the pages of Hansard from that period positively groan with examples. “Mr Ashworth, you are a cheeky and rather over-excitable whippersnapper. Calm yourself, and take some sort of soothing medicament… Mr Mahmood, you seem to be in a very hyper condition today. I recommend that you take some sort of soothing medicament… The honourable gentleman is a very excitable burgher of this House. He must try to calm himself, and take some sort of soothing medicament…”

For MPS, both the advice itself, and the endless repetition of it, must have been somewhat trying. So they will no doubt have been fascinated to read that, behind the scenes, Mr Bercow himself was not necessarily a model of Buddha-like repose.

In the report on the Speaker’s conduct, Angus Sinclair – formerly his private secretary – says that Mr Bercow “ordered me to stay seated, so he was standing over me, and then threw [a] mobile phone right in front of me on my desk and it burst into hundreds of bits and I could feel them hitting me. It was the most violent, extraordinary display of temper.” The report also describes Mr Bercow “swearing at the complainant, thumping the table and waving his arms, with spittle coming from his mouth”.

It sounds very much as though someone could have done with taking a soothing medicament.

Congratulations to Elon Musk, the billionaire tech pioneer, on the birth of his latest child. And congratulations to him also on his unique flair for baby names. Because his newborn daughter is called Y. And her older brother, born in 2020, is called X AE A-xii.

At present, such names may seem a touch unorthodox, but just wait. I predict they will spark a hot new trend. Soon, it will be considered deeply passé for middle-class parents to give their children conventional names like Oscar and Ava and Charlie and Mia. Books of baby names will go out of the window. Because instead, inspired by the great innovator Mr Musk, middle-class parents will name their children using an online random password generator.

“Mummy, meet your new baby grandson: zu39!bq-85hyz1$4d. We call him zu39!bq for short.”

“Oh darling, what a beautiful little angel. Yes, he looks like a zu39!bq, doesn’t he?”