Britain in 1975 was significantly different to the Britain of today and for a variety of reasons. The social fabric for one thing was lacking if not bereft of what we now call political correctness. History will judge whether that was a good thing or not.
Very briefly, it is instructive to reflect on the outcome of the EU referendum of 1975. 67.23% of those who voted elected to remain. In our 2016 version, that figure had dropped to 48%. It is also interesting to note that at a time when the electorate was generally considered to be more engaged, the turnout in 1975 was 64.6% compared to 72.2% two weeks ago. Then as now the incumbent government negotiated a deal and recommended continued membership. The respective outcomes could scarcely have been more different. But enough of the EU for now.
1975 was a very important year for British culture. I say this for no other reason than the emergence of a new situation comedy whose first six episodes were aired by the BBC. Written by husband and wife team John Cleese and Connie Booth, Fawlty Towers became the benchmark against which all British television comedy would ultimately be measured. That it stands up so well forty years later is testament to the rare brilliance of the writing and the small group of actors who brought the characters to life. The subtext was straightforward; a small hotel being run on the English Riviera by an outrageous social climber (Basil Fawlty) who enjoyed a tempestuous relationship with his long suffering wife (Sybil Fawlty). Each had a different view of how the hotel should be run with calamitous consequences. Some of the episodes are now so politically incorrect, they are no longer even shown. In a way, this reminds us how much Britain has changed since 1975.
In the first series shown in the autumn of 1975, the second episode was entitled "The Builders". In this episode, Sybil had requested that the reliable local builder Mr. Stubbs be brought in to close off the drawing room door while making a new door to access the kitchen. Basil though had other ideas and instead engaged the infinitely less reliable Mr. O'Reilly who continues to enjoy the wrath of Sybil following previous unpleasant experiences of his endeavours (Note how the Irishman is portrayed as idle and incompetent and the Englishman is seen as reliable and professional). True to form, Mr. Murphy makes a complete bodge of the job and Sybil duly returns from her golf trip to see for herself. Furious, she calls Mr. Stubbs herself and asks him to come over the next day to rectify the situation. Not to be shamed though, Basil quickly re-engages Mr. O'Reilly to make amends for his shoddy work - which he does. Sybil returns the next day to find Mr. Stubbs waiting to see what work needs doing. Basil takes great glee in assuring her that everything has been completed and Mr. Stubbs won't be needed. Obviously embarrassed, Sybil asks Mr. Stubbs what he thinks of the work. His initial response is one of quiet admiration until he asks what sort of lintel has been used above the new kitchen door situated beneath a supporting wall. Basil replies "four by two" and Mr. Stubbs is horrified. He immediately sets about making the wall safe and Basil faces the final humiliation by leaving the hotel with a garden gnome under his arm in search of Mr. O'Reilly. He is overheard saying that he intends to insert the gnome in to Mr O'Reilly when he finds him. Indeed.
So why allude to this gem of 1970s situation comedy? Well, having observed our political antics in recent days, I have seen the characters of Basil Fawlty and Mr. O' Reilly on prominent display in public life. Fawlty is ultimately found out for what he is and is left embarrassed and humiliated (David Cameron). Mr. O'Reilly confirms the worst suspicions of the sage-like Sybil and once again flatters to deceive after yet more gifted opportunities (Boris Johnson). Of course, it is well known that both David and Boris both attended Eton College in Berkshire. This has not been a good week for Eton. Like most people, I never attended Eton (although in 1991 I did live within a stone's throw of it). But if we ever wanted a feel of how Eton educates it's star pupils, we have plenty of examples in recent years.
At Prime Minister's questions earlier this year, Jeremy Corbyn asked Mr. Cameron, "Will the chair of the Oxfordshire anti-austerity campaign (Cameron's own mother) be writing a letter to himself?" (in reference to Cameron's own local health service). From the man who had espoused an end to "Punch and Judy politics", Cameron replied with a very telling line, "I know what my mother would say, I think she'd look across the Dispatch Box say, "put on a proper suit, do up your tie and sing the National Anthem". Following his own fall from grace in the aftermath of the EU referendum, Cameron called for Jeremy Corbyn to stand down in the National interest saying, "For Heaven's sake man, go!". Those two retorts from Cameron arguably provide us with an accurate picture of what matters at Eton College. Matters such as the health service, austerity and democracy evidently come a distant second to how one is attired.
But back to that memorable episode of Fawlty Towers. It culminated with the dependable Mr. Stubbs stepping in to save the day and rectify a disastrous situation. Given the EU referendum result and the decision of Boris Johnson (Mr O'Reilly) to slope off in to the sunset having been royally shafted by his erstwhile chum Michael Gove (Faust), it is instructive to consider how the UK will now address the small matter of leaving the EU. As it stands, the Prime Minister who gambled with the promise of a referendum in exchange for five precious years of power has, to coin the vernacular, left the building. In other words, in a fit of pique at having been usurped by the British public, he has decided he doesn't want to play anymore. Hardly the hallmark of the playing fields of Eton surely?
So in a week in which the impossible became possible with the passing of every minute, the contenders to replace him to be the Mr. Stubbs of the moment are worthy of consideration. Teresa May has been Home Secretary for six years now. Despite that, she was nowhere to be seen during the recent campaigning for the EU referendum. It was almost as though she was biding her time. Beware of an old man (or lady) in a hurry. Her husband is also a major player in G4S, the company who make lots of money and get awarded lots of government contracts. But at least she is not yet known to have offshore funds in the Cayman Islands. Not yet. Next in line to pick up the most poisoned chalice in world politics is the mild mannered Michael Gove who is to teachers what Jeremy Hunt is to doctors. Notwithstanding his public assassination of his great friend Boris Johnson (Mr O'Reilly), he has also repeatedly referred to his inability to do the job. A strange choice then by another closet megalomaniac. It is sobering to consider that Gove is reckoned to be the intellectual heavyweight in the contest. Next comes Dr. Liam Fox, the former Defense Secretary who was forced to resign for abuse of office. He had previously been guilty of the largest expenses fraud and forced to repay the fraudulent claim. A former GP, Dr. Fox is considered a darling of the Right and the Leave campaign. That leaves just two. The first is Stephen Crabbe who has enjoyed a meteoric rise to Cabinet from a council house upbringing in South Wales. Along the way, he has claimed a cure for homosexuality. Crabbe offers himself as the candidate of unity. And last but not least comes the other lady, Andrea Leadsom.
Laregly unknown until her impressive role in a TV debate on behalf of the Leave campaign, Leadsom has skeletons aplenty in her closet. She started a buy-to-let property company with her husband in 2003 and ploughed her shares in to trusts for her children. This is a well trodden path to avoid paying inheritance tax. Staff salaries at her Westminster office had been paid by a sizeable donation from her brother's company based in Guernsey via a holding company in the British Virgin Islands. That same company also made donations of £816,000 to the Conservative Party.
So if there is to be a reliable, dependable Mr. Stubbs to rectify the current dangers of the Leave result, the five Tory candidates do not inspire much confidence. It may well be that the Mr. Stubbs needed to address this monumental issue is nearer than the Tories think. It might be the badly dressed man standing opposite the Dispatch Box who refrains from personal insults from outside or within his own party. He might not have a cure for homosexuality or holding companies in the British Virgin Islands or a past history of enforced resignation due to expenses abuses or a spouse with a vested interest in a major beneficiary of G4S or the ability to sink a knife in to back of any potential rival, but he is focused, honest and behaves with a dignity sadly lacking in his party and the one opposite. Can I candidly suggest that if the UK is to come out of Europe in a sensible, respectful manner, we need a general election forthwith to bring our own Mr. Stubbs to the fore sooner rather than later?
Very briefly, it is instructive to reflect on the outcome of the EU referendum of 1975. 67.23% of those who voted elected to remain. In our 2016 version, that figure had dropped to 48%. It is also interesting to note that at a time when the electorate was generally considered to be more engaged, the turnout in 1975 was 64.6% compared to 72.2% two weeks ago. Then as now the incumbent government negotiated a deal and recommended continued membership. The respective outcomes could scarcely have been more different. But enough of the EU for now.
1975 was a very important year for British culture. I say this for no other reason than the emergence of a new situation comedy whose first six episodes were aired by the BBC. Written by husband and wife team John Cleese and Connie Booth, Fawlty Towers became the benchmark against which all British television comedy would ultimately be measured. That it stands up so well forty years later is testament to the rare brilliance of the writing and the small group of actors who brought the characters to life. The subtext was straightforward; a small hotel being run on the English Riviera by an outrageous social climber (Basil Fawlty) who enjoyed a tempestuous relationship with his long suffering wife (Sybil Fawlty). Each had a different view of how the hotel should be run with calamitous consequences. Some of the episodes are now so politically incorrect, they are no longer even shown. In a way, this reminds us how much Britain has changed since 1975.
In the first series shown in the autumn of 1975, the second episode was entitled "The Builders". In this episode, Sybil had requested that the reliable local builder Mr. Stubbs be brought in to close off the drawing room door while making a new door to access the kitchen. Basil though had other ideas and instead engaged the infinitely less reliable Mr. O'Reilly who continues to enjoy the wrath of Sybil following previous unpleasant experiences of his endeavours (Note how the Irishman is portrayed as idle and incompetent and the Englishman is seen as reliable and professional). True to form, Mr. Murphy makes a complete bodge of the job and Sybil duly returns from her golf trip to see for herself. Furious, she calls Mr. Stubbs herself and asks him to come over the next day to rectify the situation. Not to be shamed though, Basil quickly re-engages Mr. O'Reilly to make amends for his shoddy work - which he does. Sybil returns the next day to find Mr. Stubbs waiting to see what work needs doing. Basil takes great glee in assuring her that everything has been completed and Mr. Stubbs won't be needed. Obviously embarrassed, Sybil asks Mr. Stubbs what he thinks of the work. His initial response is one of quiet admiration until he asks what sort of lintel has been used above the new kitchen door situated beneath a supporting wall. Basil replies "four by two" and Mr. Stubbs is horrified. He immediately sets about making the wall safe and Basil faces the final humiliation by leaving the hotel with a garden gnome under his arm in search of Mr. O'Reilly. He is overheard saying that he intends to insert the gnome in to Mr O'Reilly when he finds him. Indeed.
So why allude to this gem of 1970s situation comedy? Well, having observed our political antics in recent days, I have seen the characters of Basil Fawlty and Mr. O' Reilly on prominent display in public life. Fawlty is ultimately found out for what he is and is left embarrassed and humiliated (David Cameron). Mr. O'Reilly confirms the worst suspicions of the sage-like Sybil and once again flatters to deceive after yet more gifted opportunities (Boris Johnson). Of course, it is well known that both David and Boris both attended Eton College in Berkshire. This has not been a good week for Eton. Like most people, I never attended Eton (although in 1991 I did live within a stone's throw of it). But if we ever wanted a feel of how Eton educates it's star pupils, we have plenty of examples in recent years.
At Prime Minister's questions earlier this year, Jeremy Corbyn asked Mr. Cameron, "Will the chair of the Oxfordshire anti-austerity campaign (Cameron's own mother) be writing a letter to himself?" (in reference to Cameron's own local health service). From the man who had espoused an end to "Punch and Judy politics", Cameron replied with a very telling line, "I know what my mother would say, I think she'd look across the Dispatch Box say, "put on a proper suit, do up your tie and sing the National Anthem". Following his own fall from grace in the aftermath of the EU referendum, Cameron called for Jeremy Corbyn to stand down in the National interest saying, "For Heaven's sake man, go!". Those two retorts from Cameron arguably provide us with an accurate picture of what matters at Eton College. Matters such as the health service, austerity and democracy evidently come a distant second to how one is attired.
But back to that memorable episode of Fawlty Towers. It culminated with the dependable Mr. Stubbs stepping in to save the day and rectify a disastrous situation. Given the EU referendum result and the decision of Boris Johnson (Mr O'Reilly) to slope off in to the sunset having been royally shafted by his erstwhile chum Michael Gove (Faust), it is instructive to consider how the UK will now address the small matter of leaving the EU. As it stands, the Prime Minister who gambled with the promise of a referendum in exchange for five precious years of power has, to coin the vernacular, left the building. In other words, in a fit of pique at having been usurped by the British public, he has decided he doesn't want to play anymore. Hardly the hallmark of the playing fields of Eton surely?
So in a week in which the impossible became possible with the passing of every minute, the contenders to replace him to be the Mr. Stubbs of the moment are worthy of consideration. Teresa May has been Home Secretary for six years now. Despite that, she was nowhere to be seen during the recent campaigning for the EU referendum. It was almost as though she was biding her time. Beware of an old man (or lady) in a hurry. Her husband is also a major player in G4S, the company who make lots of money and get awarded lots of government contracts. But at least she is not yet known to have offshore funds in the Cayman Islands. Not yet. Next in line to pick up the most poisoned chalice in world politics is the mild mannered Michael Gove who is to teachers what Jeremy Hunt is to doctors. Notwithstanding his public assassination of his great friend Boris Johnson (Mr O'Reilly), he has also repeatedly referred to his inability to do the job. A strange choice then by another closet megalomaniac. It is sobering to consider that Gove is reckoned to be the intellectual heavyweight in the contest. Next comes Dr. Liam Fox, the former Defense Secretary who was forced to resign for abuse of office. He had previously been guilty of the largest expenses fraud and forced to repay the fraudulent claim. A former GP, Dr. Fox is considered a darling of the Right and the Leave campaign. That leaves just two. The first is Stephen Crabbe who has enjoyed a meteoric rise to Cabinet from a council house upbringing in South Wales. Along the way, he has claimed a cure for homosexuality. Crabbe offers himself as the candidate of unity. And last but not least comes the other lady, Andrea Leadsom.
Laregly unknown until her impressive role in a TV debate on behalf of the Leave campaign, Leadsom has skeletons aplenty in her closet. She started a buy-to-let property company with her husband in 2003 and ploughed her shares in to trusts for her children. This is a well trodden path to avoid paying inheritance tax. Staff salaries at her Westminster office had been paid by a sizeable donation from her brother's company based in Guernsey via a holding company in the British Virgin Islands. That same company also made donations of £816,000 to the Conservative Party.
So if there is to be a reliable, dependable Mr. Stubbs to rectify the current dangers of the Leave result, the five Tory candidates do not inspire much confidence. It may well be that the Mr. Stubbs needed to address this monumental issue is nearer than the Tories think. It might be the badly dressed man standing opposite the Dispatch Box who refrains from personal insults from outside or within his own party. He might not have a cure for homosexuality or holding companies in the British Virgin Islands or a past history of enforced resignation due to expenses abuses or a spouse with a vested interest in a major beneficiary of G4S or the ability to sink a knife in to back of any potential rival, but he is focused, honest and behaves with a dignity sadly lacking in his party and the one opposite. Can I candidly suggest that if the UK is to come out of Europe in a sensible, respectful manner, we need a general election forthwith to bring our own Mr. Stubbs to the fore sooner rather than later?
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