Let’s have a mayor of London, not a constant campaign

Election fatigue doesn’t even come close. When London goes to the polls to choose its next mayor on May 3 it will be the culmination of a few weeks of official campaigning on the parts of Boris, Ken and the rest.

But in reality, the last month or so has been but the final lap in a marathon lasting more than three years.

We’ve known since March 2009 that Ken Livingstone intended to mount a challenge to Boris Johnson, either as Labour’s official candidate or as an independent. The following May, Oona King threw her hat into the ring, and by September 2010 – almost 20 months before the vote – it was clear we had another round of Ken versus Boris on our hands.

In other words, Boris was at City Hall for a paltry 10 months before the race to succeed him kicked off. He’d barely had time to find the stationary cupboard and learn where the best toilets were before he was forced back into election mode.

And what have we learnt in that time? That the two main challengers don’t get on much (and probably should avoid sharing lifts in the future)? That one is the mayor for the rich, and the other is in the grasp of the unions? That it is always someone else’s fault that the tubes don’t run on time and that fares are so outrageously expensive? Or that one earns vast sums from his writing and another has complex tax arrangements?

Did we really need in excess of three years – more months than there are London boroughs – to be told that our options for 2012 are exactly the same as they were four years ago?

In Britain we like to pat ourselves on the back for having such an obviously more sensible electoral system than our stateside cousins. We snigger as US presidential hopefuls spend obscene sums on attack adverts and kiss myriad babies in the hopes of convincing every vacillating voter in every primary or caucus from coast to coast to back them – and that’s just against members of their own party.

We pride ourselves on a political structure that doesn’t put its parliamentarians up for re-election every two years, as is the case for US congressmen and women. We spend less in this country to keep our democracy going than they do, we don’t rely so heavily on stunts and photo opportunities, and we set far stricter limits on funding (contrary to what recent revelations about donor dinners would have you believe).

Yet if the 2012 London mayoral race is anything to go by, we have nothing to brag about. And if the rest of the country follows suit and opts for directly-elected mayors, will we be doomed to an eternal election cycle, up and down Britain?

In Birmingham, the in-fighting among the Labour hopefuls for a role that is only theoretical at this stage, suggests the answer is yes.

I am on record stating that I cannot support Ken Livingstone, despite aligning myself with the Labour Party in the past, not least because I still don’t think he understands the concerns of London’s Jewish community. But, frankly, the never-ending campaign has made me reluctant to back any of his rivals.

I want a mayor for London, not a constant candidate for whom the mayoralty represents only a brief window between one race and the next.

It’s too late to change anything this time. But it would be wonderful for whoever wins next month to be able to spend the next four years concentrating on running London, not running for London.

Gossip Girl recap: Salon of the Dead

Serena Van der Woodsen is many things – sister; friend; brother-lover; walking blonde-joke punchline; advert for how not to wear appropriate attire, ever – but she’s not known for being malicious. Or at least, she never has been during Gossip Girl’s colourful history.

But there she was, this week, doing her best to torpedo new it-girl Lola’s burgeoning showbiz career, not to mention ruin a party hosted by her supposed BFF in the whole wide world.

And then she had the nerve to get mad at Lola, for outing the fact the La Fembot is actually Mommy Dearest (and Nate’s former bedroom buddy). And to ask Lola to keep shtum about her Gossiping ways, to avoid her reputation (Ha, as if Serena still has one of those) being tarnished forever.

The problem with Gossip Girl this season is that it has lost sight of who the characters are. Serena works best when she is inadvertently – but never intentionally – stupid and hurtful, when she is caught up in her emotions and blind to the idiocy of her behaviour.

I’d believe it (in the sense that one should never accept anything on Gossip Girl as remotely plausible) if any one of the other girls on this show had opted to wield the laptop of power and hold it hostage from the real Gossip Girl – but not Serena. Blair, Little J, Vanessa all have it in them – they’ve all had a taste of power and enjoyed it. Serena, not so much.

It’s not just Serena, though. The writers seem to have reinvented their characters this year, and while I’m all for the gang growing up (hello, these crazy kids have now reached the grand old milestone of being above the legal drinking age – major maturity!), it’s too much.

Gossip Girl needs to get back to its roots. Blair is a schemer – as an adult her schemes should be more complicated and intricate, and the consequences should be worse – but after months of her kowtowing to Prince not-so-Charming, it’s time for her to regain her place on the steps. So instead of feuding with Dan about Brooklyn’s merits, she should have conspired to have him turn up at the hottest party of the year, trussed up like the escort she wants him to be.

And Nate? It was never plausible to have him in a seat of power, but while it was all part of Grandpa Archibald’s plan, it sorta worked. But why is he still being portrayed as a media mogul? Nate is at his best when having inappropriate flings with older women, getting high while the world around him erupts into crisis or flashing his dimples to get him out of any awkward fix. He should be in a fraternity house right now, engaged in hi-jinks to steal the rival house’s pet hedgehog, or something, not playing Murdoch to La Hurley’s Rebekah.

As for Dan; I never thought I’d say this, but bring back Little J and Vanessa. At least they have identifiable personalities, and at least their hair has the decency to be fake. Without them as a buffer, and a reminder that life is gosh darn tough when you hail from the wrong side of the Brooklyn Bridge, Dan is just another suited and booted piece of arm candy. Let’s have him working as the ice cool undercover reporter he thinks he is and getting into scrapes with devious drug dealers and dastardly crime kingpins, not fawning over a girl who made his life miserable for years and still doesn’t feel bad about it. He’s no longer a rebel and he no longer has a cause – even house-trained Rufus has apparently worked out that that’s not OK.

In fact, the only character who keeps it interesting anymore is Chuck, who delivered one of the greatest lines in Gossip Girl history this week as he slammed his newfound mother for her general awfulness. If he can find a way to publicly humiliate her and seize control of her media empire, all the while wearing an awesome cravat or somesuch, I might forgive some of the crud that has passed for storylines this series.

Siobhan Benita should be given the chance to talk to London’s voters

Imagine this: the new kid in class asks to audition for the school play. “You can’t,” the teacher responds, “You weren’t in it last year.”

“But I wasn’t at this school then,” explains the child, only to be told: “Tough luck.”

Absurd, you might say. But it sums up the situation that Siobhan Benita is in.

Benita, if you didn’t know, is an independent London mayoral candidate; a former civil servant who decided to stop talking politics and start taking action. But I say “if you didn’t know”, because you probably don’t. As an independent, with no track record and no party behind her, she has not been offered the same platform to express herself as her opponents.

At the Evening Standard’s debate on Wednesday, four candidates – who might reasonably be termed the usual suspects in London mayoral politics – were offered the chance to debate, snipe and put across their vision for the capital. Benita, sitting in the front row, was not – a fact I consider nothing short of outrageous.

Not all her rivals were given a chance – the BNP and UKIP candidates weren’t invited to Newsnight or to other debates – but their party electoral histories mean their track records can be examined and their chances discounted accordingly.

Given the microphone to ask an audience question, Benita calmly challenged the quartet to accept her in the debate. They all agreed in principle, and her presence would have cost nothing, yet she remained barred from the podium.

If this is what democracy looks like, then all I can say is I’ve been sold a lie. Given that our system allows for independents to stand, it is baffling that they are not then given the same opportunity to convince. Over and over the public gets to hear from the same four people, saying the same things and making the same jibes. Yet a new face is persona non grata.

Campaigning is not only about official status; political history is filled with examples of upstarts rising from nowhere to claim the prize. But it’s hard to imagine a candidate in the personality-centric arena of London’s City Hall politics making a lasting impression on voters without strong name recognition.

Barring Benita – or any other independent – from the platform reduces the ability to tell voters there is an alternative. The tuned-in, those who use Twitter and discuss the issues endlessly, know she’s out there. Those who engage only at the sidelines won’t have a clue.

As it happens, Benita is an interesting candidate, with intriguing ideas about youth provision and a vision for her city. She wants to keep tubes running later on weekends, find new uses for derelict buildings and hold back the spate of library closures – ideas that could benefit from further scrutiny. Still, despite better odds than Jenny Jones or even Brian Paddick, she probably has no chance; who can stop the Boris or Ken juggernaut?

But that’s not the point. How can voters dismiss someone when they have not been given a fair chance to see what it is they are rejecting? Elections are about more than frontrunners; they are about giving all those in the running a chance to shape the debate. Contrast this closed attitude with the Republican primaries, where every pretender is given some chance to shine.

When it comes to Benita, as a disillusioned Labour supporter with a vote going spare, I like what I see. It’s wrong not to open up the race and let others have a proper look. She should be allowed her time in the limelight.

Titanic: recap

The main problem with the Titanic mini-series is that at almost every turn you expect Leonardo DiCaprio to pop up. The film, made 15 years ago, is still too fresh and there’s the overwhelming sense that everyone involved in this project knows that. I imagine that were it not for the centenary, there’s no way this would have gone ahead.

That said, the series, created by Julian “Downton” Fellowes, is passably enjoyable. It’s got all the social mores, sneering contempt and ludicrous hats you would expect in a series set in 1912. The set, if not quite as majestic as James Cameron’s creation, is vast and impressive. The acting is fantastic, the characters interesting and, if not sympathetic, engaging.

But it’s not a triumph. For one, there are too many characters; maids who look alike, imperious women distinguishable only by accent. Perhaps that will resolve itself by episode two, when we meet the cast again and view events from another perspective, but it’s not a good omen for a series if the main characters aren’t instantly recognisable an hour in.

The biggest problem, though, is that we know this story and we know it won’t end well. We are all too familiar with “women and children only”, a flawed design of a ship and empty lifeboats sailing away because of social snobbery. We know that the men in steerage, and the crew, stand almost no chance of survival; likewise, it’s no surprise no see the violinists stoically playing on or the men taking the tragedy like gentlemen, with a stiff upper lip.

I probably will watch on, but this won’t be a memorable series and it won’t usurp Jack and Rose from their places at the helm. The dialogue is crisp, the relationships intriguing, but in the end, this is a story we don’t need to watch unfold on screen again – at least, not without a radically different approach. And this doesn’t give it one.

Gossip Girl’s Pacey and Joey moment

Watching this week’s installment of Gossip Girl (which was so bland that it didn’t warrant a recap), I was struck by how the Blair Dan love drama is reminiscent of another wildly popular and controversial teen soap.

I’m talking, of course, of Dawson’s Creek. Now on the face it, the exploits of the Capeside crew have little in common with those of the glamorous Upper East Siders we so dearly love to Gossip about.

The former were unfashionable, the high school pecking order’s outsiders. They were poor – not in the “I live in Brooklyn” mould of Dan and Jenni, but poor enough to have to waitress and put themselves through college.

They talked in long, luxurious sentences with the vocabulary of the Bard, and their dramas were invariably internal rather than the results of some convoluted plot or scheme.

And yet. When Dawson’s Creek began, the clear premise was that this was a love story about the boy and girl next door. The clue was in the title, this was about Dawson and Joey, about the obstacles they would face – but ultimately surmount – in their quest for happily ever after.

Yet from early on it was clear that the verbal sparring between Pacey – the intended “supporting actor” character – and Joey, was no match for her rapport with Dawson.

When they sailed off into the sunset a few series later, theirs was the romance we were rooting for.

I’m not sure if we’re yet at the cheerleading stage of Blair and Dan, but looking at it now, Dan’s relationship with Serena seems like the prologue.

Blair has always been the more engaging of the two girls, particularly in her days of scheming on the Met steps against the presumptuous Little J – but Serena’s character has barely developed from the flighty, whiny blonde we met at Grand Central. Her romances are fleeting and repetitive, whereas Blair’s are all great loves, marked by tragedy and anguish.

Perhaps that was what the Gossip Girl team was gunning for all along; the other happily ever after, the one you wouldn’t have predicted in the first place. I doubt it, just as I doubt that Pacey and Joey were anything other than a product of the writers seeing good screen chemistry that fans responded to.

But, as Gossip Girl moves to the twilight days of its fifth series (the point when Dawson’s Creek, too, was obviously doomed) it’s interesting to note just how pointless the majority of the supporting cast have become and how vapid the other plot threads are.

Gossip Girl recap: Crazy, Cupid, Love

Charlie Rhodes, meet the girl who has spent the last year pretending to be you, living your life, wearing your dresses, sipping your champers, smooching your men.

Twas Valentine’s Day on Gossip Girl and time for Ivy Dickens to meet her match.

Obviously, this had to happen at a party with everyone in attendance (except for Chuck, who was occupied getting acquainted with Dan’s “desperate single female on Valentine stereotype” literary agent.

Fake Charlie was in town, it emerged, because grandma CeeCee is on her deathbed. While I’d like to think FC has grown to care about her pretend grandmother, it’s a fair assumption that FC has been sitting around with dollar signs on her pupils looking at the will.

Anyway, she bumps into cater water Real Charlie, who is there because Nate has stalked her into working for him. If he wasn’t worth gazillions, the whole “buying off her boss and planning a party just to waitress” thing might be a little creepy, reminiscent of Juliette’s behaviour last season (the good-ish old days of Gossip Girl, before the writers got Kate Middletoned).

But it’s Nate, and she’s blonde, so meh. She’s his shiny toy of the moment. Resistance is futile to the dimpled one.

FC and RC meet and don’t give the game away, but it won’t be long (there’s a Facebook friend request and everything). I’m looking forward to the Carole-Lily showdown that will inevitably take place, particularly given how watered-down Blair and Serena’s latest frenemies tiff was.

The tiff was because, having gone to elaborate lengths (planting fake old marrieds to go “aaaw” at the sibling-lovers) to reunite Serena and Dan, Blair and Dan ended up locking lips in a manner that was decidedly not reminiscent of the high school days they were reliving at Nate’s bribe-a-date do.

Georgina, nasty, Machiavellian  Georgina, has the whole thing on camera, but she’s got more dirt up her sleeves; namely the pre-nup that states Blair will lose everything if the royal romance implodes.

While Georgina’s return has been enjoyable – finally, some actual old-school scheming – she’s sort of sleepwalking through the deviousness.

Let’s hope a tragic divorce is enough to bring back the bitchy Blair of high school days.

Gossip Girl recap: G.G.

So Gossip Girl has turned 100. Congratulations, mazal tov, happy birthday. You look damn good for your age.

Or at least Georgina does, in that final-scene “reveal” showing her as the evil genius behind it all. I don’t buy it, for several reasons, the first being that the producers have said that they are planning at least another series. They’re not going to give away the Gossip Girl  identity before time – that would be like showing us “the Mother” in season three of How I Met Your Mother. No chance.

Likewise, dear old Sparks has been screwed by Gossip Girl in the past. Don’t tell me this was a five-year-long plot twist, and that all those past Georgie-scandals were fake outs. It was wrong on the end of Lost, and it won’t do now.

No, my theory is that since Nate killed the real Gossip Girl, Georgina’s found a devious way to impersonate her. Next week, I reckon we’ll see the real one wreak revenge.

But more importantly, next episode we will see the fall out from the predictable “Blair chose Dan over Chuck” twist. To cut a long wedding story short, she confessed her love to Chuck in the bridal room, it was caught on camera and then broadcast as Blair got close to saying “I Do”. The sap that is Louis the dull bought her apology – or so it seemed – but in a pretty good plot twist it turned out he was going to make his princess live in a loveless marriage so the media didn’t smell scandal.

Because, yeah, that worked so well for Charles and Diana.

A shame it took one of his (presumably) final episodes for the writers to give him anything resembling a backbone.

Anyway, his last dance confession sent Blair bolting into the arms of Dair (who, appropriately, looked more like the chauffeur than the socialite’s latest love interest). Cut disaster when lovestruck (delusional – hello, they are siblings!) Serena finds out. Yay.

Georgina’s return was predictable – so much so that she quipped about the gang’s annual reunion – but underused. Her snarky moments were with Rufus and Lily, not Chuck or Dan. It was always so enjoyable to watch her decimate Dan with a  withering stare.

As for Nate – poor, dateless Nate – ole dimples was quite perturbed to see his childhood sweetheart walk off into the sunset lit palace. At least until he found a new blonde to lust after. Pity that his waitress-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks is actually the real Charlie Rhodes, meaning that he’ll soon be dating his ex girlfriend’s cousin and the woman a more recent ex impersonated for several months.

I can’t wait to see how an intellectual mastermind of Archibald’s stature digests all that information.

It was certainly a blockbuster episode, but it was a little bit lacklustre. Bring back old school Gossip Girl, with real schemes that Blair could be proud of, passive aggressive rivalry with Serena and hardcore mummy issues. Not to mention, why so little Dorota and why no classic Blair put-downs to the minions, dressed up so cutsey-like.

Either way, let’s hope episode 101 sees the return of bolshy bitchy manipulative Blair, instead of sappy bridezilla. Let’s see Dan remember why he hated Blair so much for so long – surely a Vanessa or Jenny cameo could do that? Let’s see Chuck get a storyline that doesn’t involve Blair or a canine, and let’s see Serena get rejected by a guy and have it stick.

Gossip Girl recap: The end of the affair

So Gossip Girl has seen in the new year with a host of deja-vu dalliances with pseudo-siblings, another convoluted plot that makes little sense and a Serena wearing far too many sequins.

At the end of the last episode we were left on a clifferhanger. Would Blair and Chuck survive the story of the princess and the paparazzi? Of course they would.

But Chuck’s near miss is just the excuse Blair needs to place another obstacle on the road to Happily ever after with Chair. She promises him upstairs that she’ll never leave Louis if Chuck survives, then is pretty much screwed when her wish comes true. It’s nice to know that fear of God, rather than passion of even interest in The Most Boring Character Ever (aka the prince).

So it was another scene at Chuck’s, with lots of unrequited love and tortured looks. Given that we know Blair gets to a wedding episode (if not past the vows) it’s clear this saga is going to run and run. It’s a shame. Bring back the bitchy sniping of the Chair of yesteryear.

Meanwhile, over at Nate’s Serious Journalism Job, he and Serena are trying to work out whether to use all the info the erstwhile Gossip Girl tipsters have sent them – Nate having put the kibush on her. Serena’s attack of a conscience isn’t going to last long; she comes to the deep realisation that it’s the misunderstandings about society gossip – not the gossip itself – that cause trouble.

But she shouldn’t worry about being Gossip Girl’s gatekeeper for long. Our trusted friend hasn’t gone very far; in fact she’s still digging up dirt, including the juicy tidbit that the crash car had its breaks tampered with (obv, oldest storyline in the book) and that it was actually booked for Nate. So who is out to get ol’ dimples? Gramps? Juliette? La Hurley? My guess is cousin Tripp, although there’s word that Georgina is back later this season, and murder is totally something she’d be down with.

Meanwhile Gossip Girlers, meet the real Charlie Rhodes who, contrary to my expectations, is not fat, deformed or a bit of a nerd. She’s a Juilliard student, with a wallet-photo-cute relationship with Mommy Dearest. Lily hasn’t figured it out yet, but it’s a matter of time.

And then, in proof that all good teen drama relationships must come full circle, we have the first suggestions of a reunion relationship. Sure, I’m sleeping with my sorta-sibling is the first excuse Serena could think of, but there was a look after that kiss. Given that the writers need to move Dan on from his ridiculous Blair rut (I really miss their sparring and sarcastic jibes. Friendship doesn’t suit them), a blast from the past is more than likely on the cards.
 

The Granville Gunman and Twitter

If, as I do, you live on a small and rather insignificant road in suburban north London, it’s not an everyday occurrence to see said location being reported as the scene of a crime. Especially not when the situation involves a stand-off between a gunman and armed police officers.

But today my little tiny road got its five minutes of fame. It started with a tweet from Barnet Police, a tweet that piqued my interest.

Within minutes, Twitter (albeit a limited number of geographically concentrated users – it’s not  a huge road) was abuzz. The police followed up with an explanation: “Police had reports of a man believed to be in possession of firearm. Police are trying to bring this to a peaceful conclusion.”

The Shomrim, the Orthodox Jewish security network, swiftly added this detail: “Armed Police are restricting access. Avoid area if possible”.

And then the rumours went a-swirling, some factual, others totally nonsensical. According to various sources, including local press and interested onlookers, the lone gunman was in his mid-50s and recently unemployed, on the 14th floor of a block of flats. Residents were being evacuated, or refused entry to the road. There were police helicopters, television crews, and this little gem, courtesy of the Times Series newspapers; ““He put a bottle of Jack Daniels, a tin of spinach and a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale down and said ‘There’s a little present for ya’.”

A few hours later, there seemed to be no clear resolution. I headed home, wondering whether I’d be allowed back into my flat, visions of various police dramas running through my head.

As it turned out, all was quiet on the Granville front, although the road was awash with policemen and, curiously, a fire engine. A police officer at the other entrance to the road said it was fine to go through. I asked whether there was any update and unsurprisingly, he remained tight-lipped. But minutes later, safe in my building, Barnet MPS tweeted again:

And so ended the drama of the Granville Gunman (as I hashtagged him), though the police will no doubt release more information in due course. A bit of excitement for the residents on a cold January afternoon, but nothing serious.

But the incident offers yet more proof of Twitter’s influence. As a journalist, I’d probably have found out about this sooner rather than later, even had it not been for Barnet police’s tweet. But most members of the population don’t have access to police press departments and many, if not most, don’t follow the local media religiously.

Social media does many things – and certainly, as today’s events demonstrated, it can misinform or spread panic – but as a way of getting information to the public promptly and efficiently, it’s pretty darn effective.

Does Aidan Burley deserve forgiveness? (The Telegraph)

You’re an MP at the top of your game. Elected just 18 months ago, already a high-flyer. You’re 32, Oxford-educated and part of a new breed of caring Conservatives. You’ve got a bright political future ahead of you. Now, how best to torpedo it?

Anyone considering that conundrum should call Aidan Burley, the Cannock Chase MP and former PPS to Transport Secretary Justine Greening. Last week it emerged that he’d been at a particularly raucous stag party in a French ski resort. It wasn’t that the group got obscenely drunk – though who knows, perhaps they did – or that they harassed the waitresses, or even that they ran up exorbitant bills and then neglected to pay them.

The crime – as it may well be in France – was that the party was themed; a nostalgic night during which guests donned SS garb and toasted high-ranking members of the Third Reich. Unfortunately for the stags, they were in a public restaurant and another diner, a journalist, caught the soirée on film.

For Burley, it was something of a last supper. The Prime Minister has now called for an investigation into his “offensive and foolish” behaviour and Burley has been removed from his post.

He is, of course, still part of the Conservative Party and his career will most likely recover. Politicians have bounced back from far worse. But, even as Westminster convulses over Britain’s future in Europe, it is right that this story and this scandal didn’t just disappear.

Let’s refresh. This was not a mere slip of the tongue. A few days earlier, Burley’s fellow freshman Conservative MP Zac Goldsmith was berated for a careless – but, I believe, absolutely unintentional – reference to Auschwitz. He was scolded, he apologised immediately, and the matter was put to rest.

Burley also said sorry, more than once. So why not forgive him, too? Aside from the suggestion in the Mail on Sunday that he was responsible for hiring the uniforms, the answer lies in his own apology; “I wish I had left as soon as I had realised what was happening,” he said.

This comment piece was first published in the Telegraph. Read the rest of it here