How Spooky
I enjoyed this Notebook column by Philip Collins in The Times in which he says that the Milibands are not the Chuckle Brothers or even the Marx Brothers, but the Mike and Bernie Winters of Brtish politics.
And he has a point you know because there's a real resemblance between Ed Miliband and Bernie Winters who is on the left in the photo above.
How spooky.
A careless change of address for Blair’s father
By Philip Collins - The Times
Notebook
It seemed obvious, while I was having lunch with a Labour candidate, that MPs in marginal seats should be paid more than those in safe seats. An MP nursing a marginal has to fight for every vote. They are back in the constituency every weekend, opening fêtes and visiting schools. An MP for a safe seat really doesn’t have to bother, though plenty do.
What’s more, the urban areas represented by Labour MPs have greater social problems, and therefore a bigger postbag, than the more prosperous rural areas represented by Conservatives.
It doesn’t always go smoothly, though. Tony Blair’s father once sent him, as he often did, a warm and emotional note which he signed off with “Loving Pa”. The constituency office was busy but, even so, Leo Blair must have been astonished to receive the reply: “We thank you for your letter, the contents of which have been noted” and which was addressed to “Mr L. Pa”.
Dynasty gold dust
The key to being a good public speaker is to find your character. That, at least, is the shtick I am flying to Denver to teach to a bunch of industrialists who don’t feel confident telling stories.
In search of a local example to bring the lesson alive, I find Denver’s gold rush origins fascinating but unhelpful. Neither is the fact that Denver is known as the Mile High City. I can see where that one goes.
But then I hit the jackpot. Blue-haired Blake Carrington lived here in a 48-room mansion in Dynasty. It was a big show; Gerald and Betty Ford and Henry Kissinger were guest stars in 1983.
Ploughing through old episodes, I find just what I need. A good public speaker has to be a version of themselves, to play a character that just happens to be them. In Dynasty, Krystle Carrington, played by Linda Evans, was once imprisoned and a lookalike, also played by Linda Evans, took over her life. Daft storyline but a perfect metaphor for what to do during the short but intimidating walk to the speaker’s podium.
Winters of discontent
I was delighted to see Ed Miliband criticised last week for being “the wrong Chuckle Brother” because it raised the question of whether there even is a right Chuckle Brother. However, I suspect that one Miliband will do for the Labour party. The Milibands are not the Chuckle Brothers or even the Marx Brothers. They are the Mike and Bernie Winters of British politics.
The Winters brothers, who fell out and stopped working together, used to begin their act with Mike on stage alone, doing a monologue that was interrupted by Bernie poking his head gormlessly through the curtain. One night, Mike’s introduction was received in complete silence and when Bernie’s head appeared, a man in the front row cried out: “Oh my God, there’s two of them.”
Building blockhead
Iam appearing on Newsnight to take issue with Mary Beard, professor of classics at Cambridge, who believes politicians would be more authentic if they wrote their own words. I don’t say so on air but I learnt the hard way that Mary may have a point.
There is an apocryphal tale in which Dr Johnson looks out on a narrow street and sees two women, leaning out of their windows on either side, hitting one another with wet towels. Johnson is reputed to have turned to Boswell and said: “Those two women will never agree . . . because they’re arguing from different premises.”
That struck me as a perfect speech opening. If only I hadn’t given it to a politician for whom it made no sense. He related the set-up perfectly but then concluded with the immortal line: “Those two women will never agree . . . because they’re arguing from different buildings.”
Notebook
It seemed obvious, while I was having lunch with a Labour candidate, that MPs in marginal seats should be paid more than those in safe seats. An MP nursing a marginal has to fight for every vote. They are back in the constituency every weekend, opening fêtes and visiting schools. An MP for a safe seat really doesn’t have to bother, though plenty do.
What’s more, the urban areas represented by Labour MPs have greater social problems, and therefore a bigger postbag, than the more prosperous rural areas represented by Conservatives.
It doesn’t always go smoothly, though. Tony Blair’s father once sent him, as he often did, a warm and emotional note which he signed off with “Loving Pa”. The constituency office was busy but, even so, Leo Blair must have been astonished to receive the reply: “We thank you for your letter, the contents of which have been noted” and which was addressed to “Mr L. Pa”.
Dynasty gold dust
The key to being a good public speaker is to find your character. That, at least, is the shtick I am flying to Denver to teach to a bunch of industrialists who don’t feel confident telling stories.
In search of a local example to bring the lesson alive, I find Denver’s gold rush origins fascinating but unhelpful. Neither is the fact that Denver is known as the Mile High City. I can see where that one goes.
But then I hit the jackpot. Blue-haired Blake Carrington lived here in a 48-room mansion in Dynasty. It was a big show; Gerald and Betty Ford and Henry Kissinger were guest stars in 1983.
Ploughing through old episodes, I find just what I need. A good public speaker has to be a version of themselves, to play a character that just happens to be them. In Dynasty, Krystle Carrington, played by Linda Evans, was once imprisoned and a lookalike, also played by Linda Evans, took over her life. Daft storyline but a perfect metaphor for what to do during the short but intimidating walk to the speaker’s podium.
Winters of discontent
I was delighted to see Ed Miliband criticised last week for being “the wrong Chuckle Brother” because it raised the question of whether there even is a right Chuckle Brother. However, I suspect that one Miliband will do for the Labour party. The Milibands are not the Chuckle Brothers or even the Marx Brothers. They are the Mike and Bernie Winters of British politics.
The Winters brothers, who fell out and stopped working together, used to begin their act with Mike on stage alone, doing a monologue that was interrupted by Bernie poking his head gormlessly through the curtain. One night, Mike’s introduction was received in complete silence and when Bernie’s head appeared, a man in the front row cried out: “Oh my God, there’s two of them.”
Building blockhead
Iam appearing on Newsnight to take issue with Mary Beard, professor of classics at Cambridge, who believes politicians would be more authentic if they wrote their own words. I don’t say so on air but I learnt the hard way that Mary may have a point.
There is an apocryphal tale in which Dr Johnson looks out on a narrow street and sees two women, leaning out of their windows on either side, hitting one another with wet towels. Johnson is reputed to have turned to Boswell and said: “Those two women will never agree . . . because they’re arguing from different premises.”
That struck me as a perfect speech opening. If only I hadn’t given it to a politician for whom it made no sense. He related the set-up perfectly but then concluded with the immortal line: “Those two women will never agree . . . because they’re arguing from different buildings.”
