TLIAD: Be Careful What You Wish For
- Thread starter Thande
- Start date
I can tell you which ones really don't get the Internet.
and there's a couple who think they do, but they don't. Of course, it often all comes down to their minions, I did Facebook for two MPs and two candidates during the GE. I'm not convinced one of those has ever worked what Facebook is. What i can say is that the party really didn't get a clue about Twitter during the GE.
Thande
Donor
April 16th, 2010
“And what will you do about all these planes being grounded, Mr Cameron? All these angry people stuck at airports, what are you going to do for them?”
Cameron fixed a pleasant expression on his face and resisted the urge to call the man an idiot. He was; unfortunately he was also a voter. What did he want him to do, legislate for tougher sentences for Icelandic volcanoes? “Well, let me be clear that a Conservative government will have new and radical policies to give this country the transport network it needs for the 21st century…” he launched into the inoffensive non-answer.
*
Ed Miliband smiled as the clip played again on the news. Normally he found it irritating how they would ignore a two-hour detailed policy speech and focus on a funny picture of a cabinet minister waving a banana around (as his brother could attest), but at least this time it was at the other party’s expense. To his credit, Cameron did at least manage to almost completely hide his disbelief and contempt at the question, and Ed wasn’t sure if he could have done the same himself. And it had been relatively well timed; by the time Have I Got News rolled around, people might well have forgotten about the stupid voter in Birmingham Edgbaston.
He paused for a moment, frowning to himself, then suddenly smiled. Gordon had already been planning a new line of attack for a while, but it occurred to Ed that careful use of this clip would make it so much better…
*
Nick Clegg tapped his pen thoughtfully as he looked at the reproductions of posters that had been going up since the end of March. “Labservative Party”, they said, cleverly blending the Tory tree and Labour rose into a single symbol, portraying the two parties as an indistinguishable duopoly that had ruled unchallenged for decades. Clegg had been pleased with the campaign when it had been launched. To some extent it embodied Liberal values, treating voters as intelligent people who would understand a spoof campaign, rather than recoursing to the lowest common denominator.
Unfortunately, reality had ensued. David Laws had told him of one passer-by who had seen the poster and enthusiastically asked who was the party’s leader and whether they were standing in his constituency. The overall message was strong—the fact that voters kept searching for alternatives to the big two proved that— but the delivery method clearly wasn’t biting. It was disheartening.
Well, they had tried a conventional campaign, and that hadn’t worked. They were still invisible to the media. Time to take a risk. He pushed the papers aside and brought out a set of notes from his meetings with the Liberal Youth federal executive. He had made several bullet points: it had to look spontaneous, genuine. An internet campaign would fail if it was seen as a ‘forced meme’, which as Clegg understood it was like what the Americans called ‘astroturfing’. Gentle self-mockery, like the old Alliance PPB with John Cleese, was the order of the day, but it was so hard to get the balance right. They needed something that worked on two levels, the straightforward and the subtle, or ‘meta’ as one of the Liberal Youth people had put it.
Clegg’s phone rang and he answered it. “Yes? Oh, he was right then? They did actually make the sculptures?” Pause. “Ah…I see, they’d ordered them in back when everyone thought the debates would happen. So do you think…” He smiled to himself, “well, obviously don’t let them know it’s us! Keep plausible deniability on that. Say it’s for an election night party or something. But make sure they don’t put them on eBay. We’ll need them for this.” He moved a paper aside and looked at the rough outline again. Yes. Yes, this could either work well or backfire horribly. It would be difficult to judge the mood of the target audience. But given the status quo, it was worth taking a risk.
“Oh, as soon as possible,” he added down the phone. “We’ll need to get the filming done quickly so it’s ready in time…”
“And what will you do about all these planes being grounded, Mr Cameron? All these angry people stuck at airports, what are you going to do for them?”
Cameron fixed a pleasant expression on his face and resisted the urge to call the man an idiot. He was; unfortunately he was also a voter. What did he want him to do, legislate for tougher sentences for Icelandic volcanoes? “Well, let me be clear that a Conservative government will have new and radical policies to give this country the transport network it needs for the 21st century…” he launched into the inoffensive non-answer.
*
Ed Miliband smiled as the clip played again on the news. Normally he found it irritating how they would ignore a two-hour detailed policy speech and focus on a funny picture of a cabinet minister waving a banana around (as his brother could attest), but at least this time it was at the other party’s expense. To his credit, Cameron did at least manage to almost completely hide his disbelief and contempt at the question, and Ed wasn’t sure if he could have done the same himself. And it had been relatively well timed; by the time Have I Got News rolled around, people might well have forgotten about the stupid voter in Birmingham Edgbaston.
He paused for a moment, frowning to himself, then suddenly smiled. Gordon had already been planning a new line of attack for a while, but it occurred to Ed that careful use of this clip would make it so much better…
*
Nick Clegg tapped his pen thoughtfully as he looked at the reproductions of posters that had been going up since the end of March. “Labservative Party”, they said, cleverly blending the Tory tree and Labour rose into a single symbol, portraying the two parties as an indistinguishable duopoly that had ruled unchallenged for decades. Clegg had been pleased with the campaign when it had been launched. To some extent it embodied Liberal values, treating voters as intelligent people who would understand a spoof campaign, rather than recoursing to the lowest common denominator.
Unfortunately, reality had ensued. David Laws had told him of one passer-by who had seen the poster and enthusiastically asked who was the party’s leader and whether they were standing in his constituency. The overall message was strong—the fact that voters kept searching for alternatives to the big two proved that— but the delivery method clearly wasn’t biting. It was disheartening.
Well, they had tried a conventional campaign, and that hadn’t worked. They were still invisible to the media. Time to take a risk. He pushed the papers aside and brought out a set of notes from his meetings with the Liberal Youth federal executive. He had made several bullet points: it had to look spontaneous, genuine. An internet campaign would fail if it was seen as a ‘forced meme’, which as Clegg understood it was like what the Americans called ‘astroturfing’. Gentle self-mockery, like the old Alliance PPB with John Cleese, was the order of the day, but it was so hard to get the balance right. They needed something that worked on two levels, the straightforward and the subtle, or ‘meta’ as one of the Liberal Youth people had put it.
Clegg’s phone rang and he answered it. “Yes? Oh, he was right then? They did actually make the sculptures?” Pause. “Ah…I see, they’d ordered them in back when everyone thought the debates would happen. So do you think…” He smiled to himself, “well, obviously don’t let them know it’s us! Keep plausible deniability on that. Say it’s for an election night party or something. But make sure they don’t put them on eBay. We’ll need them for this.” He moved a paper aside and looked at the rough outline again. Yes. Yes, this could either work well or backfire horribly. It would be difficult to judge the mood of the target audience. But given the status quo, it was worth taking a risk.
“Oh, as soon as possible,” he added down the phone. “We’ll need to get the filming done quickly so it’s ready in time…”
Thande
Donor
@Iain: In the previous segment, my idea was that Clegg was more internet savvy than the others, but was diplomatically keeping quiet. I base this assumption on the nature of his response to when his tuition fees apology was autotuned in OTL, suggesting he knows more about these things than he lets on.
I find your faith in the idea that he actually runs his Twitter account (where the agreement came from) disturbing, but also heartening.
Another good update - sculptures? I think, like the airplanes metaphor (which of course we all get now), we'll all be kicking ourselves when it becomes obvious - because right now I haven't the foggiest.
Labservatives was a godawful campaign. Gorvid Camerown's appearance and name had real 1950s 'evil Igor' undertones (no doubt unintentional, but didn't play well for 'the party of reasoned immigration policy' IMO) and, above all, the sheepish way it was erased from history overnight when the Coalition negotiations began was pure poetry.
Thande
Donor
I was actually referring to his response in person on radio and TV, obviously I don't think many politicians run their own Twitter accounts.I find your faith in the idea that he actually runs his Twitter account (where the agreement came from) disturbing, but also heartening.
This one is a bit unfair because it is based on something that didn't happen in OTL but is a butterfly, so don't think there is an OTL thing I'm talking about.
Ah, I didn't see him on the radio or TV at all (that said, I don't watch TV and sometimes I'm not near the radio all day), I only caught up with it on Twitter - which is, as I said, where the original 'charity pls' reply came from.
And understood. Still looking forward to it.
Too many of them do run their own twitters
I get twitter, but I don't like it, too many easy chances to screw up.
Thande
Donor
April 19th, 2010
“Due to the ongoing disruption to air travel,” Gordon Brown said, “in a meeting with the COBRA emergency committee we have decided that the Royal Navy will be deployed around the world to bring back any Britons who may be stranded abroad. We will of course continue to work around the clock to ensure that air travel is restored as soon as possible, but we will not compromise the public’s safety to do so. President Kaczynski’s narrow escape the other day illustrates the potential dangers of being too cavalier with air safety.” He paused, as the cameras flashed at him. Part of him rebelled against this, turning a disaster press conference into part of a political campaign. It wasn’t morally right. He pushed this part aside. Stopping the Tories would justify anything, and for now he would avoid meeting the gaze of the reflection in the shaving mirror. There would be time for regret later.
“In doing so,” he continued, “we realise just how fortunate we are in this country to have armed forces that are professional and capable.” He decided to leave out ‘well-equipped’ because the Tory press would only dig up all those body armour scandals. “In the past, some people have thought that a well-funded military is a bad thing because all that armies do is fight wars. Well, we have seen the lie put to that, over and over again in humanitarian interventions over the past thirteen years. Let us hope that the next time there is such a crisis, we will once again be able to turn to the brave men and women who serve their country proudly, whether it be in conflict or in disaster assistance. Let us hope that nothing will come about to scrap their ships and planes, cut their numbers and their pensions, leave us a mockery before the world…”
*
“So now he’s playing the patriotism card,” William Hague said as he watched the clip. “What’s our response going to be?”
“The Republicans never have this problem,” Cameron muttered. “It’s all very well pledging all this, but how are you going to pay for it?” He shook his head. “Maybe if I use the whole ‘national credit card’ metaphor…”
“The problem with that, David, is that you assume that most people are responsible with their own credit card and don’t run up huge debts without thinking about the consequences,” Hague pointed out. “The fact that we are in this mess suggests otherwise.”
Cameron hesitated. “There is one thing I could try,” he said slowly. “It would tie into that other proposal we were discussing…”
“Do you really think that’s worth pursuing?” Hague said sceptically. “To be honest, I could see it not having any impact and only turning off our core voters south of the border.”
Cameron waved a hand dismissively. “The core voters are going to turn up regardless of what I do; what are they going to do, vote UKIP and let Brown get re-elected? Look at the polls, William. We can’t go on like this—”
“Oh, you didn’t just say that,” Hague muttered. It seemed like there was a graffiti-edited ‘Suspicious Minds’ parody of Cameron’s flagship poster on every street.
The Leader of the Opposition ignored that. “On these numbers we’ll just grind into a useless hung parliament where nothing will get done, almost worse than Brown getting back in with a majority. We’ve tried to squeeze out a majority by killing the Lib Dems and it’s not quite working. Not enough Lab-Con swing voters are backing us. We need to think the impossible.”
“Can’t we campaign against a hung parliament rather than Labour itself?” Hague asked. “That might pull in some swing voters.”
Cameron pushed some papers aside and held up a printout bearing a crude logo showing a yellow noose on red and the legend ‘Hung Parliament Party’. “Graphics boys sent this up. It’d be a spoof campaign saying how bad a hung parliament would be as though it was the manifesto of a party. Weakness, compromise and all that.”
“Well?”
The Leader slowly shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll work. You saw how the Lib Dems have quietly abandoned that ‘Labservative’ rubbish they’ve been pushing. It’s too cerebral for most voters.”
“Maybe a ‘hung parliament equals Brown continuing in office’ type campaign?” Hague asked.
“I don’t know. That whole ‘vote Blair, get Brown’ thing didn’t take off too well last time,” Cameron said. He set his jaw. “No, I think the only way we’ll get a convincing majority is if we try to strike a more positive note. Vote for us because we’re us, not just because we’re not them.”
Hague glanced at the printout again. “You know, that looks a bit like the SNP logo…”
Cameron smiled.
“Due to the ongoing disruption to air travel,” Gordon Brown said, “in a meeting with the COBRA emergency committee we have decided that the Royal Navy will be deployed around the world to bring back any Britons who may be stranded abroad. We will of course continue to work around the clock to ensure that air travel is restored as soon as possible, but we will not compromise the public’s safety to do so. President Kaczynski’s narrow escape the other day illustrates the potential dangers of being too cavalier with air safety.” He paused, as the cameras flashed at him. Part of him rebelled against this, turning a disaster press conference into part of a political campaign. It wasn’t morally right. He pushed this part aside. Stopping the Tories would justify anything, and for now he would avoid meeting the gaze of the reflection in the shaving mirror. There would be time for regret later.
“In doing so,” he continued, “we realise just how fortunate we are in this country to have armed forces that are professional and capable.” He decided to leave out ‘well-equipped’ because the Tory press would only dig up all those body armour scandals. “In the past, some people have thought that a well-funded military is a bad thing because all that armies do is fight wars. Well, we have seen the lie put to that, over and over again in humanitarian interventions over the past thirteen years. Let us hope that the next time there is such a crisis, we will once again be able to turn to the brave men and women who serve their country proudly, whether it be in conflict or in disaster assistance. Let us hope that nothing will come about to scrap their ships and planes, cut their numbers and their pensions, leave us a mockery before the world…”
*
“So now he’s playing the patriotism card,” William Hague said as he watched the clip. “What’s our response going to be?”
“The Republicans never have this problem,” Cameron muttered. “It’s all very well pledging all this, but how are you going to pay for it?” He shook his head. “Maybe if I use the whole ‘national credit card’ metaphor…”
“The problem with that, David, is that you assume that most people are responsible with their own credit card and don’t run up huge debts without thinking about the consequences,” Hague pointed out. “The fact that we are in this mess suggests otherwise.”
Cameron hesitated. “There is one thing I could try,” he said slowly. “It would tie into that other proposal we were discussing…”
“Do you really think that’s worth pursuing?” Hague said sceptically. “To be honest, I could see it not having any impact and only turning off our core voters south of the border.”
Cameron waved a hand dismissively. “The core voters are going to turn up regardless of what I do; what are they going to do, vote UKIP and let Brown get re-elected? Look at the polls, William. We can’t go on like this—”
“Oh, you didn’t just say that,” Hague muttered. It seemed like there was a graffiti-edited ‘Suspicious Minds’ parody of Cameron’s flagship poster on every street.
The Leader of the Opposition ignored that. “On these numbers we’ll just grind into a useless hung parliament where nothing will get done, almost worse than Brown getting back in with a majority. We’ve tried to squeeze out a majority by killing the Lib Dems and it’s not quite working. Not enough Lab-Con swing voters are backing us. We need to think the impossible.”
“Can’t we campaign against a hung parliament rather than Labour itself?” Hague asked. “That might pull in some swing voters.”
Cameron pushed some papers aside and held up a printout bearing a crude logo showing a yellow noose on red and the legend ‘Hung Parliament Party’. “Graphics boys sent this up. It’d be a spoof campaign saying how bad a hung parliament would be as though it was the manifesto of a party. Weakness, compromise and all that.”
“Well?”
The Leader slowly shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll work. You saw how the Lib Dems have quietly abandoned that ‘Labservative’ rubbish they’ve been pushing. It’s too cerebral for most voters.”
“Maybe a ‘hung parliament equals Brown continuing in office’ type campaign?” Hague asked.
“I don’t know. That whole ‘vote Blair, get Brown’ thing didn’t take off too well last time,” Cameron said. He set his jaw. “No, I think the only way we’ll get a convincing majority is if we try to strike a more positive note. Vote for us because we’re us, not just because we’re not them.”
Hague glanced at the printout again. “You know, that looks a bit like the SNP logo…”
Cameron smiled.
Thande
Donor
April 21st, 2010
Nick Clegg adjusted his yellow tie and glanced at the sky, hoping those clouds would stay quiescent. It had been one thing for them to agree in the office that an Arcadian background would be best for the broadcast—“like the Windows XP screen” as Danny Alexander had put it. At the time, you don’t worry about things like outbreaks of rain, or wind drowning out the mikes, or…
Still, everything was in place. He smiled as the two sculptures were moved infinitisimally on the director’s orders. There had been a third, which had been hastily destroyed. Clegg wasn’t sure to be insulted or gratified that at least Channel 4’s election coverage had planned to include him as one of the big three. But in this case it would be best to make sure that no images of it could get out.
Clegg had only heard the story third-hand from the Liberal Youth contact who had found out about it, but this was how he understood it. Channel 4 had been upset at being left out of hosting one of the debates by the triumvirate of BBC, ITV and Sky. There had been some consideration that they might instead be offered a debate by the prospective Chancellors of the Exchequer instead, but before that had been offered—and before the prospect of any debates at all had been torpedoed by Labour—sufficient angry young men in the alternative comedy scene had seen fit to make a response. Just as Channel 4 broadcast an ‘alternative’ Queen’s Speech, the proposal had been for there to be an ‘alternative’ debate with impressionists representing caricatures of the three party leaders. Doubtless to make some kind of point about apathy in politics and point a finger at how many people chose to watch it rather than the real debate. In any case, the whole thing had been shelved, but not before a set designer had taken inspiration from an Australian holiday. In the city of Ballarat in Victoria was a curious avenue lined with busts of former Australian Prime Ministers, not entirely true to life but with some exaggerated, caricatured, quality to them. Channel 4’s man, whoever he was, had thought to do the same thing, but much larger and with a more grotesque take on the caricature, like Gerald Scarfe’s work transferred to three dimensions. The results were…memorable.
Perhaps Channel 4 might have thought to reuse the busts in something else, sitting in the background of election night coverage to look cool and edgy, but apparently not many people had known about their existence, and they had been sitting in stores before a friend of a friend had led to one of the Liberal Youth people discovering them. With Clegg’s awful bust suitably disposed of, that left them with two large busts of a moon-faced Cameron and a scrunched up, huge-lipped Brown. They were plastic, of course, having been painted in shades of blue and red, darker for hair, lighter for skin. They’d gotten a bit scratched in storage, but had been touched up enough that they’d look presentable on TV.
“I think we’re ready,” the director said, sounding rather sceptical. “Mr Clegg?”
Do or die, Nick Clegg thought. He took up his position.
*
April 23rd, 2010
“And in other news,” Huw Edwards said, “the Unilever Corporation, which owns Marmite, has threatened legal action against the BNP for a party political broadcast made to coincide with St George's Day. In the broadcast, the BNP uses the slogan ‘some hate it, others love it, you won’t find out which until you try it’ and party leader Nick Griffin is shown spreading a brown substance on bread. Unilever have said that this is a blatant reference to their Marmite adverts and do not wish to be associated with the BNP. The far-right party has hit back, saying that no trademarks were visible in the broadcast and pointing out that other products, such as Dr Pepper, have used similar slogans in the past, suggesting Unilever do not have a right to the broad intellectual property…”
When did the BNP get somebody with half a brain, Edwards wondered privately. He supposed it had to have happened sooner or later.
Nick Clegg adjusted his yellow tie and glanced at the sky, hoping those clouds would stay quiescent. It had been one thing for them to agree in the office that an Arcadian background would be best for the broadcast—“like the Windows XP screen” as Danny Alexander had put it. At the time, you don’t worry about things like outbreaks of rain, or wind drowning out the mikes, or…
Still, everything was in place. He smiled as the two sculptures were moved infinitisimally on the director’s orders. There had been a third, which had been hastily destroyed. Clegg wasn’t sure to be insulted or gratified that at least Channel 4’s election coverage had planned to include him as one of the big three. But in this case it would be best to make sure that no images of it could get out.
Clegg had only heard the story third-hand from the Liberal Youth contact who had found out about it, but this was how he understood it. Channel 4 had been upset at being left out of hosting one of the debates by the triumvirate of BBC, ITV and Sky. There had been some consideration that they might instead be offered a debate by the prospective Chancellors of the Exchequer instead, but before that had been offered—and before the prospect of any debates at all had been torpedoed by Labour—sufficient angry young men in the alternative comedy scene had seen fit to make a response. Just as Channel 4 broadcast an ‘alternative’ Queen’s Speech, the proposal had been for there to be an ‘alternative’ debate with impressionists representing caricatures of the three party leaders. Doubtless to make some kind of point about apathy in politics and point a finger at how many people chose to watch it rather than the real debate. In any case, the whole thing had been shelved, but not before a set designer had taken inspiration from an Australian holiday. In the city of Ballarat in Victoria was a curious avenue lined with busts of former Australian Prime Ministers, not entirely true to life but with some exaggerated, caricatured, quality to them. Channel 4’s man, whoever he was, had thought to do the same thing, but much larger and with a more grotesque take on the caricature, like Gerald Scarfe’s work transferred to three dimensions. The results were…memorable.
Perhaps Channel 4 might have thought to reuse the busts in something else, sitting in the background of election night coverage to look cool and edgy, but apparently not many people had known about their existence, and they had been sitting in stores before a friend of a friend had led to one of the Liberal Youth people discovering them. With Clegg’s awful bust suitably disposed of, that left them with two large busts of a moon-faced Cameron and a scrunched up, huge-lipped Brown. They were plastic, of course, having been painted in shades of blue and red, darker for hair, lighter for skin. They’d gotten a bit scratched in storage, but had been touched up enough that they’d look presentable on TV.
“I think we’re ready,” the director said, sounding rather sceptical. “Mr Clegg?”
Do or die, Nick Clegg thought. He took up his position.
*
April 23rd, 2010
“And in other news,” Huw Edwards said, “the Unilever Corporation, which owns Marmite, has threatened legal action against the BNP for a party political broadcast made to coincide with St George's Day. In the broadcast, the BNP uses the slogan ‘some hate it, others love it, you won’t find out which until you try it’ and party leader Nick Griffin is shown spreading a brown substance on bread. Unilever have said that this is a blatant reference to their Marmite adverts and do not wish to be associated with the BNP. The far-right party has hit back, saying that no trademarks were visible in the broadcast and pointing out that other products, such as Dr Pepper, have used similar slogans in the past, suggesting Unilever do not have a right to the broad intellectual property…”
When did the BNP get somebody with half a brain, Edwards wondered privately. He supposed it had to have happened sooner or later.
Is the BNP story the same as OTL, but they defend themselves more effectively, thus butterflying the lawsuit that bankrupted them? That sounds like a Thandesque plan.
Lovely idea about Clegg presumably mock-debating the caricatures - this is very But I Would Say That, Wouldn't I, but I can actually see it backfiring on him as much as it succeeding, resulting in only a small net gain. On the one hand, it's genuinely quite funny, but on the other, it's immature and will highlight how he doesn't actually get to sit at the grownups' table.
Then again, it will stimulate a bit of the yoof vote and he might start being called a 'classic legend'... and I'm saying this all before we know exactly what the Clegg plan is. I await with bated breath. Keep it coming.
Lovely idea about Clegg presumably mock-debating the caricatures - this is very But I Would Say That, Wouldn't I, but I can actually see it backfiring on him as much as it succeeding, resulting in only a small net gain. On the one hand, it's genuinely quite funny, but on the other, it's immature and will highlight how he doesn't actually get to sit at the grownups' table.
Then again, it will stimulate a bit of the yoof vote and he might start being called a 'classic legend'... and I'm saying this all before we know exactly what the Clegg plan is. I await with bated breath. Keep it coming.
Thande
Donor
The butterfly has two wings here--the BNP PPB was more subtle, using an anonymous stand-in rather than blatantly showing trademarks, and also they defend themselves a bit more effectively. While part of this can be attributed to taking lessons from Labour and the Tories' own run-ins with copyright infringement vis-a-vis Kudos, that happened in OTL as well, so really it's just saying "thanks to butterflies, somebody with a functioning brain managed to get to a position of power in the BNP for a while at least".
Shades of "Time Trumpet" at work with the BNP, I rather think. How delightful, they are going to have "hug a skinhead" at this rate.
I got a sense of Russ Feingold's first primary campaign from the LibDem PPB, I don't know if that is what you were going for, but to be perfectly honest, it strikes me as the sort of thing that would have actually worked rather well for them, especially if Clegg doesn't take himself too seriously. Given the highly polished way in which the Tories are going at the campaign, I do wonder if Laws and Alexander will be able to engineer an effective campaign in that respect.
Capital work anyway, I think that you've done the TLIAD proud so far!
Oh god, I have visions of Clegg debating "Cameron" and "Brown". I suspect that it will look a bit like Clint Eastwood interviewing "Obama". I do not envisage this going down well, though I could be wrong. It has the elements of a good idea, but I am unconvinced it will work in practice. In my mind it will be utterly cringeworthy.
It should be fun to see.
As to the BNP's brains, I don't think we need to worry too much; they still have to share the brains between the entire party, after all.
It should be fun to see.
As to the BNP's brains, I don't think we need to worry too much; they still have to share the brains between the entire party, after all.
Thande
Donor
April 24th, 2010
David Cameron smiled as he surveyed the small crowd gathered around the podium on Perth High Street. There had been some trouble with SNP activists, but holding the event on a Saturday had helped prevent that. It had been deliberate. Make this event more informal, more like taking a holiday off from real campaigning. Disguise its significance. Seated behind him were Annabelle Goldie and Liam Fox, while Michael Gove watched from the audience, looking for trouble. It never seemed to be too far below the surface. The people seemed more curious than hostile, as though Cameron were some mysterious new creature from the bottom of the sea being displayed in a museum.
“You know,” Cameron said, “they say politicians never apologise for anything. Now that’s not true—but it is true that politicians like apologising for things that they can’t be blamed for. I well remember Mr Blair apologising for the slave trade, a horrible event that happened two hundred years before he was born, while refusing to apologise for the situation he has landed us in in Iraq.” That was probably the best way of phrasing it, avoiding the awkward point that the Tories had backed the war itself. Anyway, data from the focus groups for the anti-Lib Dem campaign suggested many people had largely forgotten about the precise circumstances of the leadup to the war.
There were a few titters from the crowd. Cameron continued, gradually building steam. He was at his best in this relaxed manner, speaking without notes, Gove thought. He recalled Cameron’s leadership campaign, now nearly five years ago. How he had thrown his hat into the ring, at first got a lot of media attention for being young and different, then run his campaign aground and been dismissed as a serious contender for quite a while. He had clawed back his lead and gone on to win through making a magnificent speech of that type. The problem was, Gove reflected, it was like the party had got one of those free trials of a phone contract or something where you only saw the best of what they could offer, and as soon as you ponied up, they would vanish. Cameron had only managed a handful more speeches of that quality, that genuine feel. This was one of them, however.
“…so let me tell you,” Cameron continued, “twenty years ago, I was a young researcher in the Conservative Research Department, at a time when Margaret Thatcher was considering the community charge, the so-called ‘poll tax’. Like many others, I played a small part in that.”
Gove raised his eyebrows. He was pretty certain that Cameron hadn’t, not in any appreciable way anyway. What the devil was he playing at…
“We thought it would be a good idea,” Cameron said, “to give people more control over how their councils spend money on services, so they are deciding rather than central government. It sounded really good on paper, and the Conservative Party in Scotland wanted to trial the scheme first. We thought it would work well.
“Well, we were wrong. We made a mistake. I want to apologise for my small role in that, and reassure the Scottish people that we only had their best interests at heart. But we were wrong.” He shook his head. “It’s not the only question we’ve been on the wrong side of. When the Scottish Parliament was proposed, we thought it would undermine the Union for which we stand, thought it would create an unnecessary tier of government that the taxpayer would have to pay the wages of. But now, after the Scottish Parliament has operated well for a decade, I can see that we were wrong again. The Scottish Parliament hasn’t undermined the Union, it has strengthened it. We, the Conservatives, are a party first and foremost for freedom, for the right of everyone to take their own decisions with their life, not to be dictated to by the state. We can see now that devolution gave the Scottish people more freedoms, not took them away as we feared. It is for that reason that we are now backing greater localism not only in Scotland, but in England: there is much to be learned from your example.”
Gove resisted the urge to facepalm. This would never work. The SNP would just dismiss it as ‘talking Scotland down’ somehow, even though Cameron was technically talking Scotland up, and it could easily alienate people in England who were already sore about the West Lothian question. Although, Cameron’s hint about localism in England might perhaps be interpreted as a call for an English Parliament. It wasn’t—the Parliamentary Party would never agree to that—but perhaps an ambiguous note might be enough…
Cameron’s speech wound to a close. Somewhat to Gove’s surprise, he got a round of applause. Well, maybe the crowd was just packed with recruited supporters. Cameron took a question from a journalist from The Herald. “What about the shipyards, Mr Cameron? What about the orders? What about the workers’ jobs? What have you got to say about them?”
The Leader of the Opposition frowned, but surely he had expected hostile questions like this. “Look. Let me make it perfectly clear: we want the Royal Navy of this United Kingdom to have the best equipment we can supply them with. And of course we want to keep people in employment. But the money has to come from somewhere. A Conservative government would try and maintain enough projects so that job losses would only come in the form of voluntary redundancies. But we are not going to borrow money, build on the deficit, order ships we may not need and can’t afford just so there is something in the shipyards. Labour would do that, and it would keep paying the workers’ wages—right up until the deficit makes the country go bankrupt and everyone’s pensions disappear overnight. There are no easy choices in this economic mess that Labour has put us in, but we will take the path that does not lead to destruction.”
Gove winced at Cameron dumbing down the economic argument, but was surprised at his relatively brutal honesty. It wasn’t as if that had gone down well for Osborne at the LSE.
Well, he supposed, it wasn’t as if the Tories were going to get anywhere in places like Glasgow Govan anyway. Better to at least take a stand rather than trying to be all things to all people.
“In conclusion,” Cameron was now replying to another question, “I want to remind voters that this is the Conservative and Unionist party, and we stand for all the Union and all its peoples. We are all in this together, regardless of what Mr Salmond seems to think. Thank you.” He ignored the scattered additional questions.
Gove shook his head, uncertain about what assessment to give his leader. When was the last time a politician had pretended they were more deeply involved in an unpopular policy move than they were? But it fit Cameron’s style well, sometimes seeming to be more engaged in attacking his own party than the opposition. Would it confuse the public into detoxifying the Tory image, or would it just rip the party apart?
Gove didn’t know.
David Cameron smiled as he surveyed the small crowd gathered around the podium on Perth High Street. There had been some trouble with SNP activists, but holding the event on a Saturday had helped prevent that. It had been deliberate. Make this event more informal, more like taking a holiday off from real campaigning. Disguise its significance. Seated behind him were Annabelle Goldie and Liam Fox, while Michael Gove watched from the audience, looking for trouble. It never seemed to be too far below the surface. The people seemed more curious than hostile, as though Cameron were some mysterious new creature from the bottom of the sea being displayed in a museum.
“You know,” Cameron said, “they say politicians never apologise for anything. Now that’s not true—but it is true that politicians like apologising for things that they can’t be blamed for. I well remember Mr Blair apologising for the slave trade, a horrible event that happened two hundred years before he was born, while refusing to apologise for the situation he has landed us in in Iraq.” That was probably the best way of phrasing it, avoiding the awkward point that the Tories had backed the war itself. Anyway, data from the focus groups for the anti-Lib Dem campaign suggested many people had largely forgotten about the precise circumstances of the leadup to the war.
There were a few titters from the crowd. Cameron continued, gradually building steam. He was at his best in this relaxed manner, speaking without notes, Gove thought. He recalled Cameron’s leadership campaign, now nearly five years ago. How he had thrown his hat into the ring, at first got a lot of media attention for being young and different, then run his campaign aground and been dismissed as a serious contender for quite a while. He had clawed back his lead and gone on to win through making a magnificent speech of that type. The problem was, Gove reflected, it was like the party had got one of those free trials of a phone contract or something where you only saw the best of what they could offer, and as soon as you ponied up, they would vanish. Cameron had only managed a handful more speeches of that quality, that genuine feel. This was one of them, however.
“…so let me tell you,” Cameron continued, “twenty years ago, I was a young researcher in the Conservative Research Department, at a time when Margaret Thatcher was considering the community charge, the so-called ‘poll tax’. Like many others, I played a small part in that.”
Gove raised his eyebrows. He was pretty certain that Cameron hadn’t, not in any appreciable way anyway. What the devil was he playing at…
“We thought it would be a good idea,” Cameron said, “to give people more control over how their councils spend money on services, so they are deciding rather than central government. It sounded really good on paper, and the Conservative Party in Scotland wanted to trial the scheme first. We thought it would work well.
“Well, we were wrong. We made a mistake. I want to apologise for my small role in that, and reassure the Scottish people that we only had their best interests at heart. But we were wrong.” He shook his head. “It’s not the only question we’ve been on the wrong side of. When the Scottish Parliament was proposed, we thought it would undermine the Union for which we stand, thought it would create an unnecessary tier of government that the taxpayer would have to pay the wages of. But now, after the Scottish Parliament has operated well for a decade, I can see that we were wrong again. The Scottish Parliament hasn’t undermined the Union, it has strengthened it. We, the Conservatives, are a party first and foremost for freedom, for the right of everyone to take their own decisions with their life, not to be dictated to by the state. We can see now that devolution gave the Scottish people more freedoms, not took them away as we feared. It is for that reason that we are now backing greater localism not only in Scotland, but in England: there is much to be learned from your example.”
Gove resisted the urge to facepalm. This would never work. The SNP would just dismiss it as ‘talking Scotland down’ somehow, even though Cameron was technically talking Scotland up, and it could easily alienate people in England who were already sore about the West Lothian question. Although, Cameron’s hint about localism in England might perhaps be interpreted as a call for an English Parliament. It wasn’t—the Parliamentary Party would never agree to that—but perhaps an ambiguous note might be enough…
Cameron’s speech wound to a close. Somewhat to Gove’s surprise, he got a round of applause. Well, maybe the crowd was just packed with recruited supporters. Cameron took a question from a journalist from The Herald. “What about the shipyards, Mr Cameron? What about the orders? What about the workers’ jobs? What have you got to say about them?”
The Leader of the Opposition frowned, but surely he had expected hostile questions like this. “Look. Let me make it perfectly clear: we want the Royal Navy of this United Kingdom to have the best equipment we can supply them with. And of course we want to keep people in employment. But the money has to come from somewhere. A Conservative government would try and maintain enough projects so that job losses would only come in the form of voluntary redundancies. But we are not going to borrow money, build on the deficit, order ships we may not need and can’t afford just so there is something in the shipyards. Labour would do that, and it would keep paying the workers’ wages—right up until the deficit makes the country go bankrupt and everyone’s pensions disappear overnight. There are no easy choices in this economic mess that Labour has put us in, but we will take the path that does not lead to destruction.”
Gove winced at Cameron dumbing down the economic argument, but was surprised at his relatively brutal honesty. It wasn’t as if that had gone down well for Osborne at the LSE.
Well, he supposed, it wasn’t as if the Tories were going to get anywhere in places like Glasgow Govan anyway. Better to at least take a stand rather than trying to be all things to all people.
“In conclusion,” Cameron was now replying to another question, “I want to remind voters that this is the Conservative and Unionist party, and we stand for all the Union and all its peoples. We are all in this together, regardless of what Mr Salmond seems to think. Thank you.” He ignored the scattered additional questions.
Gove shook his head, uncertain about what assessment to give his leader. When was the last time a politician had pretended they were more deeply involved in an unpopular policy move than they were? But it fit Cameron’s style well, sometimes seeming to be more engaged in attacking his own party than the opposition. Would it confuse the public into detoxifying the Tory image, or would it just rip the party apart?
Gove didn’t know.
Thande
Donor
April 26th, 2010
“I still say we shouldn’t have waited,” David Laws said as he owlishly watched the young boffin upload the video. “There needs to be enough time for it to circulate.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Clegg said, “these things can happen overnight. We needed to wait for the Tories’ tilting at Salmond to die down first.” Really they needed even more time, but the campaign wouldn’t permit.
“But not even informing the press office?” Laws said sceptically. “How’s anyone going to know about it?”
“We inform them tomorrow,” Clegg explained patiently. “After people have had the chance to find out about it through word of mouth.” Or at least from Liberal Youth people online who would hopefully be convincing in their multiple aliases. He hoped they would remember to allow time for them to have created their supposedly ‘spontaneous’ animated GIFs based on the video, which had of course really been made yesterday and vetted by Clegg beforehand.
The upload succeeded. “Thank goodness,” muttered the youth. “Now let’s just make sure there aren’t any audio desynch issues before we make it publicly available…”
*
April 27th, 2010
“A new turn in the ongoing saga of the general election campaign,” said Huw Edwards. “The Liberal Democrats—” the emphasis he put on the phrase betrayed the fact that he hadn’t had much cause to say it of late—“have released a new video which they say they have deliberately not produced for television. Instead, it is available on the online video hosting website Youtube, as well as the party’s own website. Nick Clegg, who stars in the ‘Lesser of Two Evils’ video, has stated that the video is aimed at young people, who ‘are turned off from politics by politicians using the kind of language and means of communication better suited to their parents’ generation’. Our political editor, Nick Robinson, has more.”
Edwards relaxed for a moment while Nick’s narration took over. It played over a clip from the video in question with a banner listing its providence as ‘Liberal Democrat Youtube Channel’. Edwards had already seen the video, of course. Clegg making a point about not releasing it as a television PPB only meant that the BBC and other broadcasters would release clips of it on the news just to illustrate stories about what all the fuss was all about. While they carefully did not include enough of the clip to potentially run foul of political advertising laws, the brief illustrative clip did show that the video was colourful and curious-looking, and probably encouraged plenty of people to go and look at it for themselves. The Lib Dems had judged this well.
Instead of actually showing any more of the video, Nick just described it: “The video shows two coloured busts of David Cameron and Gordon Brown, each surrounded by a group of supporters wearing blue and red football kit, jeering and shouting at each other, while in between them is a rather unhappy man representing the voter. As he turns in turn to each of the groups, a member of the other one reaches up behind him to steal his wallet, slap a notice on his back reading ‘Student Tuition Fees’, and other unpleasant activities. Mr Clegg walks on, rescues the unfortunate voter, and talks about how the Liberal Democrats are different to the other parties, how he has more choice than the lesser of two evils, as the title says. Really it’s just the same things that have been in Lib Dem party political broadcasts for years, but the framing is colourful and the way the Lib Dems have released it says something: they may well have read a recent report that television watching is declining amid young people in favour of the internet. If Nick Clegg really is trying to gain the youth vote for the Lib Dems,” Robinson took in a breath, “he might have found a way to connect with them.”
*
April 29th, 2010
Taken from: https://www.alternatehistory.com/discussion/showthread.php?t=153166
“I still say we shouldn’t have waited,” David Laws said as he owlishly watched the young boffin upload the video. “There needs to be enough time for it to circulate.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Clegg said, “these things can happen overnight. We needed to wait for the Tories’ tilting at Salmond to die down first.” Really they needed even more time, but the campaign wouldn’t permit.
“But not even informing the press office?” Laws said sceptically. “How’s anyone going to know about it?”
“We inform them tomorrow,” Clegg explained patiently. “After people have had the chance to find out about it through word of mouth.” Or at least from Liberal Youth people online who would hopefully be convincing in their multiple aliases. He hoped they would remember to allow time for them to have created their supposedly ‘spontaneous’ animated GIFs based on the video, which had of course really been made yesterday and vetted by Clegg beforehand.
The upload succeeded. “Thank goodness,” muttered the youth. “Now let’s just make sure there aren’t any audio desynch issues before we make it publicly available…”
*
April 27th, 2010
“A new turn in the ongoing saga of the general election campaign,” said Huw Edwards. “The Liberal Democrats—” the emphasis he put on the phrase betrayed the fact that he hadn’t had much cause to say it of late—“have released a new video which they say they have deliberately not produced for television. Instead, it is available on the online video hosting website Youtube, as well as the party’s own website. Nick Clegg, who stars in the ‘Lesser of Two Evils’ video, has stated that the video is aimed at young people, who ‘are turned off from politics by politicians using the kind of language and means of communication better suited to their parents’ generation’. Our political editor, Nick Robinson, has more.”
Edwards relaxed for a moment while Nick’s narration took over. It played over a clip from the video in question with a banner listing its providence as ‘Liberal Democrat Youtube Channel’. Edwards had already seen the video, of course. Clegg making a point about not releasing it as a television PPB only meant that the BBC and other broadcasters would release clips of it on the news just to illustrate stories about what all the fuss was all about. While they carefully did not include enough of the clip to potentially run foul of political advertising laws, the brief illustrative clip did show that the video was colourful and curious-looking, and probably encouraged plenty of people to go and look at it for themselves. The Lib Dems had judged this well.
Instead of actually showing any more of the video, Nick just described it: “The video shows two coloured busts of David Cameron and Gordon Brown, each surrounded by a group of supporters wearing blue and red football kit, jeering and shouting at each other, while in between them is a rather unhappy man representing the voter. As he turns in turn to each of the groups, a member of the other one reaches up behind him to steal his wallet, slap a notice on his back reading ‘Student Tuition Fees’, and other unpleasant activities. Mr Clegg walks on, rescues the unfortunate voter, and talks about how the Liberal Democrats are different to the other parties, how he has more choice than the lesser of two evils, as the title says. Really it’s just the same things that have been in Lib Dem party political broadcasts for years, but the framing is colourful and the way the Lib Dems have released it says something: they may well have read a recent report that television watching is declining amid young people in favour of the internet. If Nick Clegg really is trying to gain the youth vote for the Lib Dems,” Robinson took in a breath, “he might have found a way to connect with them.”
*
April 29th, 2010
Taken from: https://www.alternatehistory.com/discussion/showthread.php?t=153166
Basileus Giorgios said:
Wozza said:
Rasputin said:
V-J said:
Kvasir said:
Wozza said:
Thande said: