I Stayed Up For Portillo
By Terrence Oblong
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1st May 1997. The election that ended 18 years of Tory rule and ushered in a landslide Labour government under Tony Blair.
I'd spent the day in some obscure backstreets of Croydon, the nearest target marginal seat to where I was living, knocking up voters, delivering 'have you voted?' leaflets and sitting at polling stations taking numbers.
I've done such things many times, but this was different. This was unique. There was a feeling in the air, you could smell the victory. I was wearing a red rosette and knocking people up in a marginal seat, usually this would be a tough grind, but everyone was all smiles, all through the day. I knocked up one elderly supporter asking her if she'd voted. "My husband's just died," she said. I was all apologies and sympathy. "Oh don't worry," she said brightly, "We knew he was near the end so we did a postal vote." Yes, even the dead were voting Labour that day. Labour ended up winning that particular 'marginal seat' with a 20,000 majority.
The buzz for Labour was reflected in the number of volunteers, there were hundreds of us, stamping on each others toes, all giddy with the eek of victory. At one point I was paired with a woman who said she worked with Armando Iannucci. "Really?" I said breathlessly. "I'm a massive fan of The Day Today, what's he like to work with?"
"Actually he's a bit of a cunt," she said. But before I could ask for the detail, I was called away. "Terrence, can you go and walk up and down that cul de sac. Everyone's voted, but we want to be seen looking busy."
I stayed up until 4.00 am watching the election coverage. Miraculously the Tory town I grew up in went to Labour at about 3.30. But it wasn't over, exit polling was indicating that one of the giants of the Tory party was in jeopardy.
At just after 4.00 the TV election coverage went live to Enfield Southgate, Michael Portillo's constituency. Portillo held the seat with a 16,000 majority, the definition of a safe seat, but not any more. The Labour candidate Stephen Twigg won the seat with an 18% swing. The shock result gave rise to the expression "The Portillo moment".
Michael Portillo was the poster boy of the nasty party, at a time when being nasty was still seen as a bad thing. He had spent his every waking minute attacking single mothers and the working poor. The Family Cat (90s indie band) did a song called 'Bring Me The Head of Michael Portillo', which I put on repeat play for half an hour when the result was announced, before finally crashing asleep.
I'd been there, done that, so I got the T shirt. I wore it all the time, briefly, but political T shirts soon age. Michael Portillo eventually became universally loved as that nice man who does travel programmers, and Blair became universally hated as that nasty man who does illegal wars. But I still wear it on suitable occasions, when another wicked witch of the right turns to dust. I dusted it down to wear the day Theresa May resigned, and again when Dominic Cummins got the boot. And it's there in my wardrobe just waiting for Boris to get his comeuppance. Top of the pile, cleaned and ironed, so I can put it on in an instant if I need to.
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Comments
I don't know if you mean 'eek
I don't know if you mean 'eek' of victory or reek. God, how I wish Labour could somehow do the miraculous and oust the charlatan Johnston and all his Tory scum.
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A very funny description of
A very funny description of election day! It takes me back to the time, although my memories were not so relevant or involved!
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Well done.
A good read that took me back too. I snorted out some coffee at the Ianucci bit.
Looking back on the Blair years, I'm very disappointed with how it all turned out: the petty feuding between Blair and Brown towards the end. The too-comfortable cosying up to business. The abolition of clause IV, when serious amendment might have saved us from our current mess. New Labour often looked a bit old Tory to me.
As someone who flew over Iraq, the crew room conversations were all about what would happen after Saddam. We weren't hopeful and were proved right. Imagine our surprise when barely a couple of years later we were flying over Afghanistan and predicting a long-drawn out mess ending in an ignominious withdrawal. And we were right again.
I was living in Spain by the time Blair finally went. I enjoyed my 14 years there. Saw the result of the Brexit referendum coming a mile away and returned to the UK for medical reasons via 6 months in Germany. I'm told it's not much fun for those Brits living in Spain who voted out, since they were predominantly those who hadn't done the paperwork to be legal when we were still in the EU. Unsurprisingly, the Spanish authorities are getting very tough with them.
Anyway, Portillo was a dick, he was defence minister when I drafted a letter for a colleague concerning her medical discharge from the RAF, the letter she received in reply was error- ridden and did not even reply to her queries.
Never trust anyone who wears red corduroys.
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A piece of life-writing that transports us back to a moment in time. Not Terrence's usual fare, but just as well crafted as usual. Please share and/or retweet if you like it too.
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I was disappointed by the Blair years also
but not for the same reason as Ewan. There was a lot of jealousy in the press at the time, mainly about his financial affairs, which to me seemed peanuts compared to well established Tory sleaze. Of course Iraq was a big mistake for him, but I wonder what else he could have done. Seems to me he was backed into a corner in the beginning.
I wouldn't say New Labour was old Tory. It made a lot of sense at the time, there was a lot of cleaning up to do and a bit of 'walking on eggshells' was needed to get things done. Sadly the far left backlash screwed everything up. Seems compromise was never on the agenda.
Now we have a weak Labout party, a non existant centre left liberal (who turned right with Dick Clegg and fucked up) and an incompetent nationalist corrupt bunch of estabishment pricks who make Thatcher's nasties look like benavolent puppies.
As for Portillo, he hasn't changed. Still jumping on wagons except now they are railway wagons rather than band wagons. How he weadled out of the accusations about his sexuality was yet another example of Tory sleaze. I think his current mode of dress says it all.
A bit of compromise from the labour left and a bit of pride swallowing by Clegg and Brown and things could have been so different.
As for Brexit it's an unmitigated disaster that will haunt the UK for a long time. The twats who voted out who live and bought property in Spain should be kicked out. Perhaps the local people will be able to afford to buy property in their own country again.
A bloody mess!
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The Brexiteers
who still live in Spain won't be kicked out, if they had all their paperwork in order before the deadline, which in an act of unprecedented generosity by the Spanish government was extended well past E-day. Most of them hadn't considered this aspect, as I recall. All my ducks were in a very precise row, which was why I was able to sell the house and not get absolutely massacred for capital gains, paying only what anyone with their residencia and property paperwork done properly would, Spanish or EU citizen.
It is a mess. And you're right that the left should have compromised, but I still think getting rid of Article IV was a mistake. Just how big, I'll find out when the energy cap is trebled in April.
Be that as it may, Terrence captures the optimism and hope we all had on that day and I remember the feeling well.
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This is great, Mr Oblong. I
This is great, Mr Oblong. I remember watching that moment and punching the air and shrieking 'YES!!!'. I never fell for his railway schtick afterwards.
Praying that your T shirt will be needed soon.
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