TLIAD: "Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee?"

wheear__ast_tha_bin_sin__ah_saw_thee__by_lordroem-d86muif.jpg

Wheear 'ast tha - what?!

It's Yorkshire.

Yeah, but you're not really from Yorkshire are you - even if you do sound like Alan Bennett after a stoke.

I lived there until I was eighteen - and I still pop up for Christmas. Anyway, shouldn't you know that already? You are my internal monologue after all.

You're still a Northern Uncle Tom.

Harsh.

But true. Anyroyde up - what is all this abart?

Hah - I knew that you'd start doing that. Anyway, it is a timeline in a day.

About Yorkshire?

It's God's Own County!

Now you are just channelling Thande.

There are worse people to channel.

'ee - I bet 'e thinks tha's a reet indisive tit!

That's Alan Partridge failing to do a Mancunian accent.

Oh yeah. Anyway, a timeline about politics, in Yorkshire?! Don't talk soft.

And that's from Mitchell and Webb.

Shut up.

Certainly not - now, let us begin...​
 
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Friday 1st August, 2014
Penistone Showground

“That's wheear we get us ooan back!
On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
That's wheear we get us ooan back, us ooan back!
That's wheear we get us ooan back!
On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at!”


With that - Yorkshire Day draws to a close in the most traditional way possible. The First Secretary, John Healey, is centre-stage at the Showground just outside the market town of Penistone. Next to him, a slightly bemused Prince of Wales gives a polite smile as the Grimethorpe Colliery Band give a concluding brass crescendo.

‘On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at’ (‘On Ikley Moor without suitable headgear’ for those of you less versed in Yorkshire vernacular) is merely the unofficial anthem of the country - although that may change if a Private Member’s Bill currently working its way through the Assembly in Bradford is successful. The song itself is somewhat absurd, concerning as it does a young man attempting to win the affections of a certain Mary Jane, whilst being on Ilkley Moor without a hat (baht 'at). The singers chide the lover for his lack of headwear, given that the cold winds that blow across Ilkley Moor could lead to potentially lethal consequences. The subsequent verses in turn deal with the subject’s death and burial, the eating of his corpse by worms, the eating of the worms by ducks and finally the eating of the ducks by the singers.

Ridiculous though the song may be - it certainly demonstrates the tough, no-nonsense attitude that the people of Yorkshire are renowned for. Indeed, this sense of regional pride (a recent YouGov poll recently found the Yorkshire Dialect to be the most trusted one in Britain) has been epitomised by the Yorkshire Assembly, which celebrated the fifteenth anniversary of its founding in May.

John Healey’s aide beckons me over as the First Secretary demounts the stage. Since leading his party to victory at the Assembly elections two years ago, he has become the Northern face of opposition to Dr Fox’s austerity in Westminster. There is little sign of such defiance today though - even Healey’s most trenchant critics find themselves unable to deny his genuine popularity in the Assembly, or with the public at large.

I manage to walk in-step with Mr Healey as we make for the corporate tent (increasingly ubiquitous even at this model for agrarian egalitarianism) - fortunate to have a couple of moments of genuinely off-message conversation with him. His rise to the Labour leadership here in Yorkshire was rapid, although he was an old hand at Westminster prior to throwing his hat into the ring into the leadership contest, serving as David Miliband’s Housing Secretary,

“I’m sure that I can spare you ten minutes or so,” Healey says, “HRH is otherwise engaged with the Lord Lieutenant.”

A few pleasantries are exchanged as we enter the air-conditioned banality of the corporate area. I spot a brace of Chinese businessmen sipping Black Sheep bitter with an air of scepticism. Behind them, a few representatives from the Malaysian government are inspecting a scale model of the science park outside York.

I ask the First Secretary if this typical example of neo-Liberalism was what he had in mind when he was elected on a platform of ‘Labour values in a Labour Yorkshire.”

Much to my relief, he laughs.

“I certainly wouldn't put it as bluntly as that,” he replies, “Yorkshire is certainly open for business, but it is not the sort of naked property grab that seems to be the order of the day in London.”

I get the feeling that I am being judged. I am quick to point out that I am - originally at least - from Barnsley, and also that I certainly did not vote for Mr Barwell.

Healey does not respond to this, but I do detect an approving nod at my response.

“I would like to know,” I continue, “if you consider the Assembly to be ‘a done deal’, given your warnings at the Labour Conference last year?”

The First Secretary pauses for a moment, then continues.

“I certainly do,” he says, “when Mo launched the campaign back in ‘99, I certainly felt a degree of scepticism in the Assembly’s viability - oh - probably right up until the 2008 election, but I think that things are certainly far more settled now that they used to be - especially now that we’ve got parity with regard to law making powers.”

I nod at this, clearly the Hennessy Commission found support in the First Secretary’s office.

“You feel that Mowlam was the architect of the original concept then?” I ask.

“Most certainly, I think people forget that devolution to the English regions was not even on the agenda in 1997. It was Scotland, Wales and London that got mentioned - even Northern Ireland was not really on the agenda until the peace process concluded, but it really was down to Mo that we ended up launching the referenda when we did, especially given the Prime Minister’s scepticism at the time.”

The First Secretary looks around conspiratorially.

“To be frank,” he adds, “I don’t think that Tony really wanted anything more than a glorified parish council.”

The jibe that the SNP seem to have taken to heart clearly carries a lot of weight, even several hundred miles south of Gretna.

We talk for a couple more minutes, mainly about Sheffield’s bid for the 2022 Commonwealth Games.

“I assure you that the opening ceremony will not be taking place in a stadium shaped like my own face,” he laughs, although we both know that he is only half joking, “despite what the Mail will have you believe.”

I sense that the interview is coming to a close - a suspicion that is vindicated when another one of the omnipresent aides taps the First Secretary on his shoulder.

As Mr Healey is taken to the awaiting ministerial car (my exit is somewhat less glamorous, the prospect of a shuttle bus to the train-station, followed by a rattling Pacer to Leeds does not fill me with much joy) I notice that one of the Chinese businessmen has given up on his one-third empty pint. I get the impression that real ale is not going to be the next big thing on the streets of Shanghai quite yet.

Outside, it has started raining, giving a cloying smell to the ever-present aroma of manure that one always encounters at agricultural shows.

Despite everything, I smile. It is always good to be home.​
 
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Excellent stuff.
I think the POD is actually one taking place alongside London's thanks to a campaign from Mowlam.
Also Roem, you initially have Healey as First Minister, before changing it to First Secretary
 
Speaking as someone who can NEVER be a Yorkshireman, despite living in York for 24 years before exiling myself in France (otherwise known as south of the Watford Gap :D) having been born in Grimsby.
It's about time somebody did this!!! Well done my Lord. But please not Sir Geoffrey as a figurehead leader.
 
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Sunday 3rd August, 2014
Malmaison Hotel, Leeds

Not surprisingly for a man with such a difficult upbringing, Sir David Blunkett always projects an image of angry resignation.

Recently knighted in the Birthday Honours, the former First Secretary of Yorkshire carries himself with the air of man refusing an overdraft. Sir David may be fondly remembered by many as the man who nursed the infant Assembly to maturity, but his latent authoritarianism and unwillingness to speak out in support of the immigration that the county so clearly needs has always annoyed me - something that I think he detects.

His suits are as crumpled as ever - as his his face, the latter of which gives him the impression of a lovestruck bloodhound.

“It is not that I agree with what the Prime Minister is doing,” he states, “only that I feel that former Ministers should try and remain as out of the spotlight as possible, There’s nothing much more embarrassing than the sight of a former statesman going around trying to convince himself that people still think he is worth listening to.”

I get the feeling that Sir David has a specific person in mind.

To resolve the silence, I pour some tea for us both. Blunkett has been blind since birth, and being brought up in the grinding poverty that typified South Yorkshire in the 1970s (my own father recalls not having indoor plumbing until his teenage years...) was clearly a tremendous influence on his early firebrand socialism.

After graduating with a degree in Politics from the University of Sheffield, Blunkett entered local politics, eventually rising to the Leader of the City Council for much of the Eighties. Under his tenure, he was the public face of the ‘People’s Republic of South Yorkshire’ and later one of the most prominent leaders of protests over the Thatcher government’s ‘Rate Capping’ policy. Entering Parliament in 1987, he entered the Shadow Cabinet shortly after, and became Blair’s Education Secretary after the Labour landslide in 1997.

Did he ever intend to go back to local politics back then?

“The thought never even crossed my mind,” he replies, “I wanted to make changes that would improve the lot of every child in this country, not just the ones that happened to live in Yorkshire - otherwise why would have bothered to enter the Cabinet at all?”

I take his point. Indeed, my distaste for certain aspects of his politics notwithstanding, I cannot deny his crusade for Sure Start, his promotion of teaching as a career, nor his school modernisation programme. All Education Secretaries are routinely despised by the teaching profession, but - to paraphrase my dad once again - “David was not as much of a bastard as most of ‘em.”

I decide to keep that epitaph to myself.

“What made you change your mind?” I continue.

“Competency played a part," he notes, "but I think that the main incentive was when the Deputy Prime Minister’s Department was split up during the ‘99 Reshuffle. Mo took over the Local Government side of things, whilst John had to settle for Transport and Planning, My heart didn’t exactly bleed for him.”

That was not really the question that I asked - I chide.

“I am coming to that,” he snaps “Mo - sensibly - had a massive re-think of the Department, but decided that their was some merit in the idea of further devolution to the English regions, especially those that had been hit so hard by Thatcherism. Tony was aghast at the idea, but Mo was always far more tenacious than John.”

There is a shake in Sir David’s voice, I get the impression that Mowlam’s early death hit him far more that he lets on.

“I am not really the sort of person to talk to about with regard to the referendum campaign,” I am pleased at that - I have a meeting at the University of Leeds after this, and I did not want to get a jaundiced view prior to it, “but when the whole thing passed - I still didn’t have any idea that I would be put forward for the First Secretaryship.”

He takes a sip of tea - I have to admit that his spacial awareness is excellent.

“Was it forced on you?”

“Not in so many words,” he replies, placing a saucer of tea on the floor for Cosby “but I think I got the Dobson treatment - Tony wanted someone more malleable at Education, but I think that I had already done all that I felt that I could achieve, the DoE was always a dreadfully conservative sort of place.”

I ask him if he enjoyed the role, despite his apparent misgivings. For the first time in the interview, he smiles, and I realise that under the brogue and bluster, he is at heart a decent man.

“It was the best job in the world,” he says, in a manner that I feel must be genuine, “I was going around, getting money back from the grasping money counters in Whitehall! I don’t think that I ever enjoyed myself so much before or since!”

I get the impression that he still thinks that I’m a native Londoner, but I decide not to correct him.

Blunkett’s time in office was not as brief as some of his fellow regional leaders - I remind myself of Alun Michael’s eight month damp squib in Cardiff, or John Swinney's seven in Holyrood - but at three years, it seems that Blunkett still wanted double that. The revelations about the awarding of a government contract to a firm that he held shares, coupled with an affair with a Daily Mail journalist was enough for the knifes to be brought out amongst the unforgiving regional media. In the end - and facing a vote of confidence amongst by his LibDem coalition partners, Blunkett stepped down in September 2003. It was enough to ensure that Labour was comfortably re-elected the following May, but I learn that Sir David is still angered by the lack of recognition for his role in making the Assembly what it is today.

“I always think people care so much about regional politics because the stakes are so low” he says as I make to leave.

I feel that I should ask for a Blue Plaque to be erected on the side of the hotel, given that that is the first time that Sir David Blunkett has ever uttered a self-deprecating sentence.
 
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Thande

Donor
Smashing stuff, Roem. I like the butterflies (a neat contrast to Meadow's Danish TLIAD, which you should all go and read if you haven't already) and the bit about Yorkshire rather than Geordie being the most trusted accent in TTL.

I do think you're a wee bit unfair to Blunkett, though that might just be the biases of the writer; I think his egoism has been a bit exaggerated over the years (I say this as someone who met him briefly a couple of times and my dad is fairly well acquainted with him). He's keeping himself busy now and not really stewing in bitterness or anything, though he is somewhat abrasively passionate about the NHS. I presume in TTL he didn't have his scandals because he left Westminster politics before they would have happened/been revealed?

‘On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at’ (‘On Ikley Moor without suitable headgear’ for those of you less versed in Yorkshire vernacular) is merely the unofficial anthem of the country - although that may change if a Private Member’s Bill currently working its way through the Assembly in Bradford is successful. The song itself is somewhat absurd, concerning as it does a young man attempting to win the affections of a certain Mary Jane, whilst being on Ilkley Moor without a hat (baht 'at). The singers chide the lover for his lack of headwear, given that the cold winds that blow across Ilkley Moor could lead to potentially lethal consequences. The subsequent verses in turn deal with the subject’s death and burial, the eating of his corpse by worms, the eating of the worms by ducks and finally the eating of the ducks by the singers.
As I explained it to Meadow and some other southerners at our late meetup, "It's a bit like The Circle of Life, but much darker, 'cause it's Yorkshire".
 
Jon Swinney as Scottish First Minister? Interesting....
Blunkett as the first First Secretary makes sense.
 
Smashing stuff, Roem. I like the butterflies (a neat contrast to Meadow's Danish TLIAD, which you should all go and read if you haven't already) and the bit about Yorkshire rather than Geordie being the most trusted accent in TTL.

I do think you're a wee bit unfair to Blunkett, though that might just be the biases of the writer; I think his egoism has been a bit exaggerated over the years (I say this as someone who met him briefly a couple of times and my dad is fairly well acquainted with him). He's keeping himself busy now and not really stewing in bitterness or anything, though he is somewhat abrasively passionate about the NHS. I presume in TTL he didn't have his scandals because he left Westminster politics before they would have happened/been revealed?


As I explained it to Meadow and some other southerners at our late meetup, "It's a bit like The Circle of Life, but much darker, 'cause it's Yorkshire".

I read the description to my flatmates because I thought it was great, and my mate said pretty much the same but he phrased it as 'like The Circle of Life, without any of the American sentimentality.
 
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