Election idol

The camera sweeps down before pausing briefly on Angus Deaton. The
TV presenter smiles a little embarrassedly, raising a knowing eyebrow
to the audience as though acknowledging some shared joke.

Next in line and waiting for the camera to pan across his tanned
features is Jeremy Paxman, an ageing political commentator, who is
greeted with a roar of voter approval as his face appears on the
jumbotron. He frowns earnestly, acknowledging the cheering support
merely by compressing the wrinkles on his forehead further. He is here
to be seen to take the hard line on voter apathy.

Next in line is Clare Rayner, the panel's leading expert on morality,
who pulls her arms out from beneath her hand-knitted cardigan to wave
at the camera in a "hi mum" gesture.

The camera continues its swooping movement, regaining its speed as it
swings upwards and out to feature the entire panel, now all waving back
at the camera like string puppets.

The director switches instantaneously to the panoramic camera, which
looks down on the screaming studio audience all waving posters and
screaming for their favourites.

Piped cheers are played through speakers positioned all around the
auditorium. Purple smoke is set off at the back of the studio, with
stage lighting giving it a post-nuclear luminescence from behind.
From within an enormous inflatable House of Commons emerge the two
likeable presenters, raising their arms to wolf whistles from the
crowd.

"Born to rule? Not likely. This is Home Rule, where you can shape the
future of your country from the comfort of your sofa," says the 5'1"
Geordie, with his trademark grin and designer suit.
"That's right and it's not just who looks good in a flash suit, but the
man with the politics to boot," adds Ant to muted laughter, before
looking at his co-presenter and carrying on: "So just remember, this is
your chance to vote on the issues that matter to you."
"That's right," cuts in Dec. "You've chosen your own pop stars, you've
elected your own movie stars and you even chose us - now you get your
chance to select the most powerful man in the country."

"Cut to the vt footage," bellows the director, and the image of the
final candidate emerges onto the screen. Walking across a field in his
home constituency, wearing a Barbar jacket and walking boots, Tony
Blair strides across the moors accompanied only by his traditional
sheep dog.

John Soames, producer, director and originator of the world sensation
that is Home Rule sits back in his chair and exhales.
Having waited six years since the original pilots went out, first with
the local elections for council leaders and then with the MEPs, he has
finally been given the chance to chose the country's leader.
After only 12% turned up to elect the Premier in the last elections,
the government have turned to television for legitimacy.

With voter apathy at its highest level and the last Pop Idol gaining a
94.6 per cent audience share, the Prime Minister has asked Soames to
take his government to television to ratify the electoral
decision.
The 42-year-old television mogul keeps one eye on the panel, who are
nervously shifting at the front of the 6,000 auditorium, waiting for
the end of the first footage. His other eye is on the jumbotron behind
the panel, where the Prime Minister elect is currently shaking hands
with children in a hospital in Northumbria. He smiles benevolently
while the children look up with awe in their eyes.

In the last of his five 10-minute films, this is Blair's final
opportunity to tell the audience what he stands for.
It is hard to believe the father of three and devoted husband had ever
expressed any reservations about Home Rule.
After all, here he is depicted as not just a family man, but a man of
the people. He is - so his video claimed - the man that has chosen to
take his election back to the only poll that mattered now.

Even if the archaic constitution did not allow the election to be
overturned by television, he was prepared to stand down and dissolve
government if he lost - because he only wanted to rule with the support
of all his people.

Pictured at his office now, behind a 6ft teak desk with a picture of
his wife on his desk, he was outlining the things that mattered to him
most.
It would not come cheap, he said, but they needed to pay to continue
the current improvements in health and education where years of under
spending under previous administrations - they would name no names, he
confided with a knowing grin - had left only gaps.
He grimaced slightly at the pain he would share, before a softly shot
picture montage showed him pictured with a nurse, his hand touching her
elbow softly, as she guided him around an unspecified hospital in north
England.
The video kicked into the closing scene and Soames got ready to tee up
the closing credits.

"One, two, three" said the voice in Deaton's ear. The TV
presenter, like the experienced hand he was, jolted out of his reverie
in time to catch the last scene of the Prime Minister's introductory
tape.
At that moment, Blair stepped out of the bouncy castle and onto the
platform to raucous acclaim from the crowd.

Deaton looked at his former college buddy milking the attention of the
crowd. After the video which had focused on the private man, at home
with his family and his dog, he had gone for the statesmanlike look,
dressed in black suit and blue tie, with a traditional
buttonhole.
Blair went over and took a seat on the high metallic seat alongside Ant
and Dec. The incisive commentators were quick to pick up on the
atmosphere inside the hall.

"Just like Blackpool in December," began Ant, before Dec finished his
sentence: "Aye - but without the OAPs".
The Tory Prime Minister grinned self-consciously at his own image
beaming at him from the giant screen above him, before waving to the
crowd. A second burst of applause rang out as the crowd celebrated the
acknowledgment of their support.

Looking like the statesmanlike septuagenarian he had grown into, Blair
took a look around the room, waving once more at the ground
support.
He had already been on the road for six weeks, drumming up support for
his "Your vote, your way" slogan.
He had travelled to every major call centre - as voting areas in
television shows were becoming known - and done interviews for every
major regional television and radio centre outlining his commitment to
things.

He had even earned himself a nickname. He had been affectionately
nicknamed Lonely Tony for his early morning walks with his dog Thinker.
He had said it was the only time when he was really free to think about
how his decisions affected real people, from the guy on the milkfloat
to the kid delivering papers in the morning.

"Well Ant, I just hope everyone out there realizes that it means
nothing without their votes. I'm only here because I believe I can do
something to help everyone."



Deaton recognized the slightly smug look of the sixth form
debater and shuddered. Ant and Dec looked his way and the voice
crackled in his ear. "OK Deaton, over to you. We need a hard edge
early. Don't let the programme settle. Question the sincerity, and the
setting Angus. And Jeremy, you're cued on next. Remember: no moors in
his constituency in Hartlepool so where was it filmed?"

Deaton sat back with his trademark laconic smirk as he absorbed the
director's commands, thinking how to begin. Hard edge or not, he had no
intention of risking upsetting Blair.
"Well, I see you've left the barbar jacket and the dog behind on the
moors. That's something to be grateful for. Overall it was a nice film,
I guess what we've come to expect. Nicely shot, well put together and
obviously plenty of money has been spent on it. You can't argue with
that.

"And at least, the hair was real. You wouldn't want to fake that. Over
to you, Jeremy."

The crowd booed in mock discord with his pantomime critique.
"Quite," said Paxman in slight disgust at the soft tone of the
interview. "Well, I don't know about the hair but I've got a few other
issues I'd like to ask you."



The videos have all been prepared in the last six weeks,
after negotiations to exclude minority parties were concluded. While
there were no political reasons to deny the Green party, the National
Party and the Urban Party, it was felt that for the sake of television,
only three parties could be featured before the production values
suffered.

This had been one of the primary problems between Soames and Blair when
they had first discussed the possibility of taking democracy to the
people. While the Prime Minister wanted to be seen to uphold the value
of democracy - he thought he might suffer a left-wing revolt if it was
obvious he was freezing the less significant parties out of the process
- the TV director was not going to be swayed.

He could only guarantee bringing people to politics if the politicians
stayed out of the way. It was his show, and he would make the
decisions. The Prime Minister - for all his bluster - had already
proved that he could not get people to vote.

As Soames said, he would not be sitting in a coffee bar in Catford
making a deal unless he had to.

Blair had fought hard enough on the issue - at least until the right
people had heard about his cast-iron commitment to the principle of
democracy - before relenting.

At Soames' behest, he made an incomprehensible statement outlining his
commitment to giving the people a free vote, and outlining that it
would be part of his next manifesto to offer voters a choice.

Privately, he accepted that if Soames could deliver him 58million
voters he would sacrifice free choice in an instant.

In reality he knew all along the choice was not his, but Soames'. That
was why Soames was a communication expert, and the Prime Minister
wasn't.

From Soames' point of view there was never a choice. You need
personalities as much as policies, and there was a danger if you let
one minor party share space on the podium that they would all demand a
chance with the microphone. Three boring old farts was bad enough, but
18 was enough to sink any show.

It risked alienating the core support that focus groups had outlined as
the future of British politics at a grass roots level, he had told the
Prime Minister with a wry grin.



Blair had enjoyed other benefits. He had enlisted Soames as
his media consultant. The tough Scot was familiar with giving people
what they wanted, and he had advised Blair on his approach.

Not, he hastened to explain, because he wanted Blair to win.
But because he wanted the message to be clear, and he wanted the people
to watch the show.

Blair had learnt to avoid the language of politics. Instead of talking
about Health and Education with capital letters, he spoke about health
issues. Badger Point school where children had gone three weeks without
gym lessons because a window was broken, and how he had queued for two
hours just to get on his tube last week.



Paxman, sharp suit and acerbic tongue, takes his pen between
his thumb and forefinger and sits back. Looking at his notes like he is
checking his lines before a matinee performance, he starts
distractedly.

"Well Tony. I'm sure the population are delighted to see that you have
been using your time wisely. I'm sure they are relieved to know how you
plan to tackle record unemployment levels, massive overcrowding and
lack of housing in the London-Birmingham conurbation. Not to mention 82
per cent taxation and pollution. At least the dog is getting a
walk.

"But that says it all about your performance. It's what we expected,
lightweight and likeable. I'm sure there will still be middle England
ladies who get excited about the sight of you, but really, this aim of
this show is to find a leader, and you're not it."



Rayner looked slightly red cheeked as she looked across,
first at Paxman and then at Blair. She was meant to be acknowledging
her role as a middle England lady.

"From the beginning of this competition, I've been impressed by the way
you've handled yourself Tony, and I think there are a lot of people at
home who will agree with me. I think you've come on a great deal. You
started out nervously, and that was understandable considering the
pressure, but to me it looks like you belong up there on that stage,
like you belong in politics .If you ask me, you are already a real
leader.

"I think your record in politics, I think we all know enough about that
without Jeremy's help, could do with a little help. But I think people
will look beyond the facts, and see the person we have up here in front
of us.
"I wish you well in the final vote."



As the camera panned back across to Paxman, Rayner got up and
excused herself, before scurrying off the stage. She paused for two
minutes to get her breath back, before walking brusquely into Soames'
office.
Slamming the teak door shut, her entrance is a statement of
intent.
"I can't believe you made me do that utter rubbish. If that man is
elected, and he does it with my name, I will never forgive you. If I am
the reason that superficial, vacuous little git is given the option to
stay in power, to run our country into the ground then I will have you
over the coals."

Soames took on an earnest look, gazing slightly over Rayner's left
shoulder.

"I appreciate your reservations. But as I said only two days ago when
we discussed this performance, you signed a contract not for your
opinions, but for your voice. It was your choice if you wanted to
perform."

"But where was my choice?" she babbled in astonishment.

"Look, you shouldn't take this personally. If you hadn't done it - and
I think you played the part beautifully I must add, as well as anyone
could have - then we would have found someone out there who
would.

"Don't think about this as a question of intellectual integrity. You
were simply representing a minority view, and without you they would
not have had a platform on which to express their view. As you know, it
is not about your view or mine that counts. I'm sure you don't actually
believe this is about your opinions do you? This is a serious political
programme and it is vital we allow the population to make their choice
independently."



Paxman summed up.
"Well, the good news for you Tony, is I wont be the only one here
casting a vote. I've said all along that you're an average politician
amongst average candidates. But you've been doing it long enough, you
must be doing something right. I don't think you will win it, but then
I never thought you would get this far."

Ant and Dec picked up their microphones.

"Well, Tony. Was that what you expected? I don't think Jeremy likes
you," chortled one of the two Geordies.

"If I may say, and while I would not like to say I am in anyway
disagreeing with the panel, I feel that they haven't really understood.
I think they should remember that I was the one who gave the people the
opportunity to cast a vote. It was my bravery, my vision, to earn the
people a chance to actually have a voice. I gave them the opportunity
to sit there and criticise me.

"While it is easy to sit in one's chair and criticise, I feel that I
have done the right thing."



Soames clapped his hands together as the Geordie duo brought
the show to a close.
"If it's Blair's flair, Portillo's brio or Teshon's lesson, it's up to
you how you do it. Interactive television, personal tagged text
messages. But make sure you have your say before lines close this
evening."

As orchestrated, fireworks were set off in the four major call centres
across England, while the studio was swamped in flash lights and in the
clamour for more.

Two hours later in his private office, Soames became the first person
to know the result. As expected Blair had secured his contract, and
with ninety-eight per cent turnout, he was now the people's Prime
Minister.



Coming next week: World Election Idol.