This is the moment, Tony Blair thought to himself in the back of the PM’s limousine, as he travelled eastwards through London. Not the first win, hell of a feeling though it was, not just for me either: a national renaissance. But it slipped away a bit. Sure there was devolution in Scotland and Wales, the Northern Ireland settlement – if it can be made to stick, fingers crossed on that one. A start on health and education but it was only that. Even after another term, I’m still fighting on that one and besides, the reforms are easy enough to reverse for the next government. Not the second election victory either, though that’s made it all possible. Not winning the party leadership; that was just where it began. No. Today is it. Today is Legacy Day. Whatever else happens, my place in history is assured and we’ve changed Britain’s destiny forever and for the better.
He cast his mind back to the summer of 2001, when it all the pieces fell into place. That second win. My second win. Another landslide majority. True, turnout was down but that was because people were satisfied, wasn’t it? Politics thrives on resentment and if people don’t have something to protest against, they won’t be that motivated to vote, especially when they know what the outcome’s going to be. Ironic really, when you think what Hague campaigned on but then he was roundly rejected then wasn’t he? And he’s been roundly rejected again. Some people don’t learn. Anyway, they can’t say they weren’t warned.
Then there was the Tory leadership election straight afterwards. What a strange one that was, with Ken Clarke, Iain Duncan Smith and Michael Portillo almost tying in the final round of voting among MPs, and Portillo edging out IDS by the single vote.* Say what you like about the Tories, their leadership elections are always good for a laugh. That one undoubtedly was, making the blue-rinse brigade have to choose between a Europhile with no dress sense and a half-Spanish Thatcherite-turned-moderniser of uncertain sexuality.
No contest. Hague had settled the European question – or so he thought and so his party thought. Clarke might have been pro-Euro but none of his colleagues were so it didn’t matter so much. What was he going to do about it? By contrast, Portillo had burned too many boats and betrayed too many believers. At least you knew where you stood with Clarke: there was no pretence there, no calculation. So he won, quite comfortably in the end: 58% to 42%. Of course, they’d rather have had a Thatcherite again but their MPs thought they knew better and didn’t give them the chance.
I wonder if they meant to work it like that, Blair pondered. Can an electorate manage a result so accurately when so many of the voters have their own agendas too? I doubt it. It must have been luck rather than judgement. My luck, as it turned out.
He gazed out of the thick, bullet-proof windows as the Jaguar followed several police cars, blue lights flashing, between the towering glass skyscrapers and arrogant stone facades of The City, deserted at this time of night. I wonder what they’ll make of today’s result, he thought.
* This is the point of departure. In reality, Duncan Smith edged out Portillo by 54 votes to 53 (and behind Clarke's 59), so providing the party's membership with the right-wing candidate they wanted.
He cast his mind back to the summer of 2001, when it all the pieces fell into place. That second win. My second win. Another landslide majority. True, turnout was down but that was because people were satisfied, wasn’t it? Politics thrives on resentment and if people don’t have something to protest against, they won’t be that motivated to vote, especially when they know what the outcome’s going to be. Ironic really, when you think what Hague campaigned on but then he was roundly rejected then wasn’t he? And he’s been roundly rejected again. Some people don’t learn. Anyway, they can’t say they weren’t warned.
Then there was the Tory leadership election straight afterwards. What a strange one that was, with Ken Clarke, Iain Duncan Smith and Michael Portillo almost tying in the final round of voting among MPs, and Portillo edging out IDS by the single vote.* Say what you like about the Tories, their leadership elections are always good for a laugh. That one undoubtedly was, making the blue-rinse brigade have to choose between a Europhile with no dress sense and a half-Spanish Thatcherite-turned-moderniser of uncertain sexuality.
No contest. Hague had settled the European question – or so he thought and so his party thought. Clarke might have been pro-Euro but none of his colleagues were so it didn’t matter so much. What was he going to do about it? By contrast, Portillo had burned too many boats and betrayed too many believers. At least you knew where you stood with Clarke: there was no pretence there, no calculation. So he won, quite comfortably in the end: 58% to 42%. Of course, they’d rather have had a Thatcherite again but their MPs thought they knew better and didn’t give them the chance.
I wonder if they meant to work it like that, Blair pondered. Can an electorate manage a result so accurately when so many of the voters have their own agendas too? I doubt it. It must have been luck rather than judgement. My luck, as it turned out.
He gazed out of the thick, bullet-proof windows as the Jaguar followed several police cars, blue lights flashing, between the towering glass skyscrapers and arrogant stone facades of The City, deserted at this time of night. I wonder what they’ll make of today’s result, he thought.
* This is the point of departure. In reality, Duncan Smith edged out Portillo by 54 votes to 53 (and behind Clarke's 59), so providing the party's membership with the right-wing candidate they wanted.
