And Joy

It was strongly rumoured that the festive season this year was considerably enlivened by the Nativity.

The Child was born somewhere near Coles Lane in one of the rear garages in the presence of a rottweiller, a couple of cats an apologetic canvasser from the Constituency Labour Party and a guy from Erdington who was off his face.

Mother, Chardonnay (16) is originally from County Cork, and both mother and child are doing well - a statement has been released by Max Clifford who has also confirmed that the story has been bought by the Sun and will be serialised over the next week. A reality/doucumentary is scheduled to air in the autumn.

The happy couple said they intended to continue their journey southward in their clapped out mini as soon as the para medics have agreed they can go. They have reiterated their intention to register for the London Election in time to vote against Boris Johnson.

There has been a persistent story that the acting head of the Burgher Boys, rulers of a lawless province someway to the South West had evinced a strong communiqué warning that he might take out all babies within a ten mile radius of the Barton Arms just to make sure the rap forecasts were totally fulfilled. The authorities were last night discounting fears of widespread violence save a couple of domestics down to the seasonal reliance of snakebites on the Kingstanding Road. It is understood, however, that Vince and Chardonnay were taking no chances. They intended quickly to put distance between their new family and the nutcases in Aston.

Wise men are a bit thin on the ground in Sutton Coldfield in the middle of winter. Actually, they’re a bit thin on the ground most of the rest of the year as well. What turned up was a couple of councillors and the guy from Citizens Advice which used to be in the Town Hall. Well, they meant to turn up but couldn’t find Coles Lane and eventually settled for a couple of kebabs from Beeches Walk washed down with a can of Stella, a swift gill in the Jockey then away home for the ghost movie before midnight mass.

The Three Kings were a different matter altogether. They went plodding off to Sutton in Ashfield having been misled by the navigation lights at East Midlands Airport. They did manage to get a text away, however and it was agreed that they could meet up in Golders Green when the family eventually arrived. Gifts were likely to be exchanged.

Andrew Mitchell commented that this gave all the appearance of a worthwhile initiative which was likely to bring estimable benefits to the people of Sutton Coldfield in harness with the good work achieved by the incredibly busy local councillors. He was sorry he couldn’t be present at the actual birth but was enclosing an appropriate photo which featured a large bottle of champagne and a rather immodest Jesus button pinned on his ‘Bless you one and all’ tee shirt. On his next visit he would be sure to thank the para medics in person and meet with the guy from Erdington better to persuade him of the perils of over indulgence over the Xmas holidays. He hoped these glad tidings would not serve to disrupt the smooth and confident progress to a political change over the next months. And Boris was a tremendously good thing.

It will soon be 2008.


Nightwatchman

Lets do festive

The time is upon us, Santa is presumably on his way, the tills are ringing.

But not as much as we’d hoped.

People of my advanced age get more frustrated every year with the scale of the hypocrisy visited upon us by the western economies.

Leave aside the increasingly forlorn attempts to inject Christian piety into this circus; leave aside the cynical manipulation of the vulnerable from late November; leave aside portentous messages from the great and the good. Concentrate instead on the total reliance of the West upon vigorous economic activity at the end of the year.

So forget Xmas, forget swaddling clothes, mangers, virgins. Forget frankinsense and myrrh. Think Gold.

We have reached the stage that the point is solely, completely and unequivocally …………getting to the shops.

Because, if you go to the shops, all will be well. All those containers shipped from China will disgorge into the stockings also shipped from China. The money pays for our warehouses and our drivers and our dustcarts eventually to take away the shrink wrap. The Bankers will get their money back; the investors can plan the next venture.

Nothing revolutionary here. Happens every year.

Yes, but.

We have introduced a new variable. All this is taking place on top of a smouldering bonfire. And the faster we shop, the more we apply oxygen to the seat of the flames.

We find ourselves burning up our common inheritance in order to satisfy the growth monster.

So when the Bali agreement wobbles on its way to the launch pad, it’s a bit more serious than enjoying the American’s bloody nose. This is actually the very last chance saloon. And its almost Time.

So, just for a moment. Get this lot into perspective. Ignore: Terrorism, banking, Spice Girls, Capello, Transport, missing CDs, Holiday Repeats...

Nothing matters as much as controlling growth. We have got to become poorer.

Happy Xmas


Nightwatchman

Pity the Poor Councillor

Boldmere is pointing the way. Unlikely heroes, Boldmere, but they are playing a moderate hand very nicely.

Political textbooks are not common currency in Boldmere; there is no healthy competition here in political terms. Forget the word healthy. Boldmere elects Tories – end of. Tories have no need to try too hard. Let’s be honest, Tories have no great need to try at all. Tories can confine themselves with appearing to try.

But, the Neighbourhood Forum, strangely and gratifyingly, are doing it for themselves. Small groups of private people have organised, have debated, have marshalled evidence, taken pictures, held meetings. And have shamed their Councillors into doing something about Boldmere. The tectonic plates trembled.

Councillors tend not to act. Councillors make a noise. Often in inverse proportion to action.

But, and there is possibly the germ of a PHD here, the non elected volunteers have established themselves as the de facto leaders of the community. It is they who take the photos, who write the policy, it is they who care enough about the community actually to invoke change.

Councillors have a default button. It is their role to prevent change. Spending other people’s money is actually fairly attractive but the real political kudos are to be found in keeping the cost down. Reputations are forged as strong men prepared to stand their ground against the expectant hordes.

So Boldmere will need to adjust their keen anticipation or, make sure that they send a proper message. The proper message rejects the pathetic gesture offered them. Furthermore it spells out in large blocked capitals their determination to carry out the basic improvements to the fabric of Boldmere Road.

To do that they need to be focussed, to be assertive, to be patient. And they need to understand the tactics employed by the average Councillor. His best weapon is time. He is stuffed to the gills with time. And he will use that gradually to deflate expectations. He knows he will find no extra money without some extreme unpleasantness and bitter recriminations from elsewhere on the carousel.. What he dreads above all is a sustained, high profile, articulate challenge.

Ironic really. Councillors, a lot of them, go into politics to do things. Sad that they can’t. Tragic.

But the real kicker is the seamless transformation into the party hack, Look for the mute acceptance of the role of gatekeeper to the public purse.

Never mind the quality, feel the pain.


Nightwatchman

Ya Boo

Watching Prime Ministers Questions is not an uplifting experience.

It is partly a matter of camera angles – they are limited and tend towards emphasising the gladiatorial bit. Face to Face, mano a mano, great clunking fist. Ho hum.

But then again, what of the players. Five hundred or so, largely middle class portly males, many with red faces packed into an inadequate chamber nose to nose with the enemy.

Nightwatchman caught the Wednesday edition. He was relieved to see Our Boy perched on the Front Bench. At least he was there. In fact he was more than that, he sitteth on the left hand of David Cameron. Grinning like a fool.

The main plank of David’s contribution was a prolonged rant on Des Brown, Secretary of State for Defence, holding two cabinet posts, the aforementioned and Secretary of State for Scotland. The Prime Ministers defence was predictable – please point out where and at what point, the defence of the realm had suffered from Des’s industry. Was the redoubtable Des not efficient and effective.

Now this is not the best defence Nightwatchman had ever heard, and it does seem slightly parsimonious to make do with one minister rather than create another, but the argument is at very least logical. It has a degree of bottom.

Not to young David it didn’t. He practically frothed at the mouth. Grinning fool chose meanwhile to mouth imprecations and bellow ‘Heah, heah!’ with alarming vehemence.

It is a depressing business. These are grown men trusted with the responsibility of governance. The cheering and jeering presumably apes the behaviour of the lower fourth in our more prestigious public schools. Nightwatchman regretfully must allow that this is not one of his personal experiences but he understands from reading a large selection of penny dreadfuls that this behaviour is far from uncommon thereabouts,

So lets take but a moment to think about Grinning Fool’s intellectual position here.

It is that Des Brown cannot devote sufficient time to his primary responsibility if he chooses to do something else in his working life.

No deep flowing mind bending philosophical puzzles then. Either you go with this notion or you reject it. Absolutely no opportunity to sit on the fence. Accept it or reject it.

Grinning Fool was having nothing to do with it. Grinning Fool was right behind his leader. Of course Des Brown was a bounder. How could he possibly….indescribably reckless with duties of office. Resign, quoth he.

Grinning Fool, of course, has a number of professions himself,
As follows…………….


1. Remunerated directorships
Lazard & Co., Holdings Limited.
Lazard & Co., Limited.
Lazard & Co., Services Limited.
Lazard Asia Limited.
Lazard Asia Hong Kong.
Lazard India (Private ) Limited.

Supervisory Board member of The Foundation (small specialised management consultancy).

2. Remunerated employment, office, profession etc
Senior Strategy Adviser to Accenture. (£35,001-£40,000)


……………………………………Busy lad, then.


Nightwatchman

Because they care

Nightwatchman has been working assiduously to firm up his contacts within the local conservative party. Gentlemen,- we have our mole.

Good timing, too. Just as things get more interesting.

The news broke this very week that Roy had failed. He had tried to persuade the City Council to switch the site of the Polling Station used by Reddicap Hill in order to save the residents a three mile hike to register their vote.

But Sutton Coldfield Conservative Councillors, fearlessly led by Councillor Parkin managed to get the bid rejected.

I understand – and this is fairly confidential, - I understand that MP Andrew Mitchell was delighted at the outcome. I have it on good authority from an unimpeachable source that Andy has awarded Councillor P the highest accolade available to the Association.

Polly gets the signed photo.

The Citation read:

“To Councillor Parkin who showed extraordinary determination in refusing to support the easy decision to move the polling station. His steadfast defence of the status quo is an example to right thinking people. Especially those with motor cars. His stand against this outrageous example of socialist gerrymandering has liberated the hill dwellers from that most devastating condition..........

Confusion. "

There now can be no doubt in any mind on the Hill.

If you really, really need to vote.

Catch the bus.

As my mole left, the filler was being put together for the paper. It read ‘Andrew Mitchell added that it was people like Councillor Parkin who had made the Tory Party what it is today. Once again our hard working councillors had demonstrated just the sort of passion and commitment expected of them in the community.’

Nightwatchman.

We're gonna be sinkin' soon

Lets talk about leaflets.

Conservatives are doing leaflets.

They are, you might have guessed,. expensive. There are a lot of pictures, and its bland.

No, its not bland.

Its irredeemiably dull, its toe curlingly, balls achingly, sick makingly, desperately uninteresting.

This really has to find a home within a collection of current artefacts setting out exactly how politics were conducted in Sutton Coldfield in the early 21st Century.

Someone,-the publishers name is Rhoda Gilbert,- someone has listed words best able to inspire the electorate then smashed them together, then spread them carefully and evenly through the text, then popped irrelevant pics at random intervals. Fonts are sometimes blue and sometimes black. And amazingly, they’ve mislaid City Boy’s snaps.

So we have “delighted, vital, warmly welcomes, pleased, great news, hugely successful, much needed, extremely pleased, particularly pleased, great news, great success, applauded.” And all at carefully calibrated intervals throughout the text.

This is happyland. It is an uninterrupted hymn to the joys of living under the loving protection of Conservative Councillors in Sumptuous Sutton.

Are they mad?

Who is this for?

Or is it me. Perhaps the sight of Councillor Pears in gardening trousers wrapping his tonsils round ‘This is great news for Trinity’ or a slightly pink Councillor Mrs Waddington aggressively positioned before a field, does it for the silent majority of Sutton Coldfield.

I’m afraid there are darker reasons. This demonstrates, encapsulates the awful truth of such politicians. This is not meant to be read. It’s not for the electorate. Its for themselves. It is the modern equivalent of whistling to keep the spirits up.

The fact that it means nothing is depressing enough. The ultimate choker is that this garbage is pumped out precisely at that point in Sutton Coldfield’s history when a lead, any lead is desperately needed to point the way forward.

The Town is dying on its feet. Its leaders are posing in the political equivalent of Zoo magazine.

You get in the boat, I’m looking for a lifejacket.

Nightwatchman

Does my bum............

Every so often, Nightwatchman becomes overwhelmed.

It all becomes too much; the distress is caused by the Good, Bad and the Heavy of Sutton Coldfield grimly reelecting another eager crop of mouth breathers determined to look after us for another term.

The Boy Andy is, of course, the epitome of such tendencies. Turns up as the regulation plump, white, middle class, expensively educated City Boy and is clasped to the substantial bosom of local party. For ever.

Which is fair enough. He did get in. Nightwatchman is a democrat to his very core. But I do think we should all play our part in making absolutely certain that Standards are Maintained.

Sad, then, sad to say that Nightwatchman has detected just those signs of inexorable decay.

Andy has made a point, since his beatification from depths of dodgy Nottingham, of shovelling material into the grateful maw of the Sutton Coldfield weekly papers. I doubt a week has gone by that Andy’s photo has not adorned the local pages.

There is a very considerable strain involved here. Persuading constituents up and down the town to face the camera cheek by jowl with amiable publicity freak. There is some evidence that when Andy comes to Town (is it once every month?), streets are emptying. Mothers grab their infants, fathers, grim faced have taken to patrolling possible photogenic sites.

And our MP is looking increasingly desperate. He is casting further afield for likely victims (subjects).

Last week, it all started to unravel.

Not only did Andy fetch up with Friends of the Earth – a very unlikely place for a Tory MP.

But horror of horrors, the man was practically undressed. Shirt hung limply over straining waistband. Trousers could have done with a press. Collar was distinctly not of this morning. Tie was nondescript.

Tell me he wasn’t aping the Cool Dude.



Nightwatchman

Flying

It is with a heavy heart that we return this week, reluctant as always, to the question of integrity.

Andy has been away. He’s been on his travels. And this wasn’t just a day trip. It was 65,000 miles around the globe.

Now, in itself, this is not a bad thing. Travel broadens the mind and Sutton Coldfield is of limited attraction in the gray half light of a West Midlands November. And Andy does have shadow responsibilities for Foreign Aid. So we look to be as sympathetic as we can be on the subject of travel.

But, sadly, we have seen an unseemly wrangle in the press over who actually is paying for Andy’s odyssey.

Actually, that’s not true. There has been no response at all from Young Lochinvar. No debate, no justification, zippo. The attitude is ‘Lets not go there!’ or at least ‘If we go there, lets not talk about it’.

The story, briefly, is that when Andy wants to get over to Rwanda, he calls up Tory benefactor Lord Ashcroft and says ‘Alright if I borrow the private jet?’. Ashcroft has a Falcon 900 and he is extremely generous with its use. No strings are attached to this, he just likes helping important people. And Andy.

There is, of course, no problem with the principle of using the thing. But Parliamentary Rules insist that you declare what you spend.

Nothing would please Nightwatchman more than to report that Andy has lodged every penny of the expense with the beak.

It wouldn’t be true. One can’t unbalance the totals with tens of thousands expended on private flights to Africa – better to declare flights at jumbo rate.

Once again, this is not a hanging offence – it’s a bit of a smoothy – its not what it seems.

But this is from the guy who received a Standing Ovation from the Tory Party Conference on the theme of ‘Openness and Accountability’. I kid you not.

Our MP wanted to know what is spent where in poor countries. Nightwatchman could sign on to that. Could we start with ‘How you got there?’

And that’s not all.

Andy grabbed the opportunity of photo op in the Sutton Observer last week.

The happy recipient of hearty handshake was the local representative of Friends of the Earth. Was he aware that the Private Jet carrying 3 passengers would generate a level of pollution 10x the quantity spent by any passenger in a jumbo.

I’m sure Andy was.



Nightwatchman

Its a Learning Process

“The elected members of Trinity Ward have never received any
Representations from members of the public regarding this issue and I strongly disagree….”


Nobody does pompous like your Sutton Coldfield Councillor. And Councillor Parkin threatens to rewrite the genre.

He needed but one opportunity to forge ahead of an impressive field, ahead of better known contemporaries – experienced players such as Councillor Howard and the frighteningly consistent Councillor Roy. He is now going to be difficult indeed to dislodge from pole position.

Pomposity does not grow on trees. The condition needs to be nurtured, to be tended carefully in the darkest reaches of the soul. So the impact, when your Councillor reaches for the levers, puts the pompous bone into gear and lets rip, is likely to be impressive indeed.

We have, however, a tiny caveat; a small thing really. It’s to do with the target. Pompous needs to find exactly the right combination of victim and cause. It is essential that pompous at very least aspires to come in on the brighter side of moral rectitude. And the victim is really really important. Very necessary to identify weaker prey prior to majoring on overbearing windy rhetoric.

Councillor Parkin’s performance has exhibited some weaknesses here. His chosen ground was a formal application to change some of the voting arrangements in Trinity Ward. This is, of course, an apolitical process necessary to tidy up anomalies in representation.

So when Parky chooses this subject to unload all those years of ‘little guy angst’ his aim was true.

It was just the wrong target.

I think we would have to award him an 8 for delivery. But subject matter? Oh Dear!. If Parky is to maintain his early promise, someone needs quickly to take him aside and explain (slowly) the workings of the ward boundaries unit.

And when the receptor of windy rhetoric is seen visibly not to have crumbled, has not in fact burst into tears, gives no impression of pressing the panic button, another advisory session looms. Parky has come a long way in a short time but he needs a refresher on Phase Two.

Parky needs urgently to know how to retract. With our without leaving dignity intact. To know how gracefully to manoeuvre the U turn without, as it were, breaking stride.

Andrew Mitchell could help him here.


Nightwatchman

duh

The locals are agog, Councillors are holding Press Conferences to announce progress on redesigning our Town Centre.

Curious, this. We have a party who have been in power since Noah finished off the scale drawings for his boat. These guys must be the supreme embodiment of the people’s wishes. How could they not be?

Election after election these shining examples of truth, beauty (well, not beauty!), commonsense and responsibility, trundle themselves forward, pick up the block vote, then settle down for a further cycle of good works, bit of cheer leading, and poking the Neighbourhood Forms in the eye.

But you might think, or at very least be forgiven for thinking, that their collective hearts would beat to the same drum as the People. That they themselves might know instinctively what it is that the people want. They, after all, meet and greet, they talk and they listen, they make themselves available, they pose for pictures when the MP is unavailable.

Would they not be in prime position to form a view of what the Town is,- and what the Town might be?

Er……No.

This happy band display all the sublime inner confidence of a paranoid fieldmouse on the downers.

Given a substantial sum of money to redesign the Town Centre, they come up with the jaw dropping proposal that this should be turned over to ‘Expert Consultants’ whose conclusions will be available for public consultation.

You and I, the little people, will be given the awesome responsibility of selecting which of the expert schemes we prefer.

Should we, however, take the view that the experts have missed the point, our view would not prevail. The money, by then, would have gone. Along with the expert.

We don’t need experts at this stage. Any fool can find an expert. We need local leadership to state convincingly and unequivocally what the Town might be. We need the matter robustly debated – we could even do it in public. And then we need the result converted into a first stage brief by an expert.

Our councillors enjoy the trappings of office. They do not seem to understand the responsibilities of power.

They should take advice.

Perhaps from an Expert Consultant.



Nightwatchman

Hear Hear

It was his mum. The only explanation is that ......it was his mum

We had, after the 'Conservative Party Conference', a banner headline in the Sutton Observer. It was on Page 10, which indicates that they knew it was from his mum. But it said 'Standing Ovation for Sutton MP'

Now I will defer to no one in my admiration for the forensic debating skills of our boy. I am absolutely certain that Andy gave his spot a good wellying - shook it to death - nailed it to the wall.

But the brave history of the Tory Party has seldom indeed thrilled to the intricate harmonies of the debate on Overseas Aid.

Even this year, one of the broadsheets reported sadly that the Conference Hall was ill attended - Tories are not natural givers, organising charity on a super national scale is not an activity which automatically brings a glow to the blue rinse.

At this point I'm going to hold my hand up. Nightwatchman was not there. But he entertains a natural scepticism that Andy wowed the old dears quite as magnificently as the report implies.

So..........Easy. It was his mum.

Sutton Observer avoids any serious conflict by publishing the release, but put it on Page 10 to indicate the unreliability of the source.

And there is another clue.

Andy went for the angle on 'Oppression and Accountability'. This is as bad a tactical error as the Walmley Cricket Club debacle.

Everybody in Town knows Andy makes most of his wedge from his living in the City. There was once an attempt to establish exactly what proportion of his income came from Parliament and how much from other sources. It failed.


The cunning plan had been to work out how much of his time we justified.

Never found out.

So whoever wrote the Press Release ‘Standing Ovation………..’ needs an urgent seminar on subjects to be avoided at all costs.

Cricket is not good.
Criticising ‘Culture of Secrecy’ not great for a multi-talented but essentially discreet City Boy.

And whats more……. they forgot the photo.

Best do it yourself Andy. No room for sentimentality at the top.



Nighwatchman

Work Experience

I think we all believe in Work Experience. Gives our young people a taste of the real world; builds confidence, lets the tender flowers bloom.

There is undoubtedly a measure of satisfaction to be had sitting as one of the greybeards snugly taking pleasure in seeing the young ones come on.

So when we see the local celebrity in the Town throwing himself enthusiastically into the concept of Work Experience, it is worthy of comment. Ticks a few of the new Tory buttons. Is this a genuine example of ‘Good Egg Behavious’ or is there, somewhere behind the innocent public face, a naked play for the picture in the paper?.

It has to be said that Andy goes for the younger and prettier end of the Work Experience market.

We had a rather startling example of the genre at the Walmley Cricket Club Meeting the other night.. Business was being transacted , positions were emerging, attitudes being explained.. We’d got to that bit in the meeting where the entity takes over and takes a view. The really valuable part of the meeting.

And suddenly, we have a contribution from young lady bearing personal message from Andrew Mitchell. You can imagine that the Meeting screeched to a halt. You could hear the muted hubuub. What on earth could it be. Murmurs swept the hall. A messenger from the MP himself.

I have to say that the contribution did not quite measure up to the intro. We dribbled into a rather garbled exposition maintaining Andy’s undying conviction that he hadn’t backed down and he would not be supporting development on Walmley Cricket Ground.

It sort of underlined the complete Horlicks Andy made of the issue. To get it wrong, then to pretend you hadn’t, then to be seen to send a missive from a hundred miles away. In the hands of a fresh faced cheerleader. Not his best moment.

It is extremely important that prospective employers take this Work Experience thing seriously. It really does the Tory Party no favours to be seen to be so cavalier with innocent foot soldiers anxious to please. There is an enormous responsibility on the mentor to train, to encourage, to support. To be there for the younger generation.

The girl was cannon fodder. Andy owes her an apology.

Bit like Walmley Cricket Club.

Bit like the residents.


Nightwatchman

Never……............

The rumour mill is working overtime. Something about Conferences – all that politics and testosterone pushed together in Seaside Hotels. Tory MPs have formed a disorderly line gagging to join Gordon. Quentin Davies is apparently the tip of the iceberg.

But the prospect of Sutton Coldfield getting its first Labour MP is tasty indeed.

And looking at the hard evidence we find our initial scepticism melting away.

Our boys’s column in the Sutton Observer was undoubtedly his passport to greater things.

What did he go for this week.

Only the essence of the Governments programme. The fact that this was cloaked in a manifestly transparent coded message better to reassure the Neanderthals living locally only goes to reinforce the point. Here is an unhappy man unconvinced as much about scudding around the north pole in a sledge as hugging hoodies.

The Party, of course, will be generous. I see him serving out this parliament then taking a crash course in sensible politicking from Dr Rob. We will have to do something about the photograph fetish but I do not think that is insurmountable. Agreement could be struck somewhere around the two per week mark as long as we could say goodbye to the rather simpering full frontal jobs cheek by jowl with blue rinsed heavies.

Come the election, of course, which promises to be a hard struggle indeed, Andrew would be stepping down (we have chosen our candidate) – this nevertheless would give us the opportunity to have a serious look at his campaigning skills. His debating activities have thus far been confined to the leavers at Coppice Primary. Members have more exacting stardards. How, we would want to kmow, how would he mount the defence for Gordon’s decision to pack the prisons and institutionalise ‘Have a Go’ at the CLP meeting on a rainy night in early November. On these weighy matters do careers hang. Or are hung.

But seriously folks: we need more people like Andrew. His skills dovetail nicely with Gordon. Good finance background, Oxbridge educated, Thatcherite who strayed……..Mmmm, bit difficult that bit……doesn’t want to be leader. Much. Good potential I’d say.

Do it, Andrew, you won’t regret it. But you need to do it now. We will keep the berth warm, but we need a sign. Make a gesture, let us know you’re jumping ship.

Tell you what: - announce you have decided to hold a public meeting. That would do it. Doesn’t matter what subject, just indicate a passing interest in the affairs of the Town. Mere Green, perhaps, or Walmley Cricket Club, Jockey Road or the Post Office sorting site. Taking the Town forward. Try to move from bland vacuum to bland purposeful.

We’ll take it on board.

Hurry now.

We could be good together.


Nightwatchman

It gets stranger

It gets even stranger.

Local Hero Andrew Mitchell has taken part in a meeting with the Directors of Walmley Cricket Club and ‘insisted’ that there be no development at Walmleys ground.

In July Andrew had his picture taken with the Managing Director of Sports Partnership who ‘help sports club to relocate’ by buying and selling their grounds.

In August young Andrew wrote to the papers condemning a ‘vexatious’ local campaign run by Dr Rob Pocock advising residents the cricket ground might be developed.

Now, he’s got a bit vexatious himself.

Hooray!

Never mind the cricket, what does this say about the state of politics in one of the most bankable true blue constituencies in the country.

It says that Andrew hasn’t been doing his homework. Neither he nor his (forever) hard working councillors picked up on a flagrant attempt to cash in on an immensely valuable piece of green but 100 yards from the village centre. It says that Andrew’s extremely expensive office likewise failed to recognise Dr Pocock’s efforts as genuine and useful. It says that Andrews choice of words is dreadfully flawed. The suggestion that Dr Pocock was ‘spinnng’ the subject was particularly unfortunate.

There is a surprising and enduring froth which attends our MP. His endeavours to portray the dedicated constituency MP are becoming slightly tedious. He pursues meaningless column inches with a determination which in fact devalues his position.

The Town is maturing under his feet. It no longer hangs on every word of the Tory MP simply because he’s the MP. There is a detectable hunger for a more grown up perspective. The Town understands that there is a dynamic which attends the progress of the community and it regrets the refusal of the ruling party to engage with the subject. The Councillors and the MP betray a determined lack of leadership, a deep conviction that things will turn out alright.

The Cricket Club debacle is but a symptom. The disease needs a different order of commitment, enthusiasm and intellectual heavy lifting.

Is Andrew the man?

Nightwatchman.

Its not Cricket

He’s not the same as us.

Politicians tend not to be. But Andrew inhabits a parallel universe.

Leave aside the desperate weekly need to insert his photo into the local newspapers, leave aside his dedication to appear in front of the young and vulnerable non voters of the constituency, leave aside the three weekly pronouncements from Westminster. He’s still different.

Nothing symbolises la difference more than his abject performance over the Wyndley Cricket Club. Andrew has four filing cabinets in his office. The first one is labelled Andrew and Money. This is subtitled ‘Lazards and other Career Moves’. The second (and largest) is photographs for publication in the Sutton Observer. The third is Portfolios on offer when Cameron finally goes and Davis comes to power. And the fourth is Constituency (Sutton Coldfield).

Wyndley Cricket Club could be found within the fourth cabinet. Sounded from the first that this was a routine ‘Support and be seen to Support local worthies in search for Support’. So when Chair of Cricket Club suggested meeting ostensibly to discuss success of same and invited local cameraman as well, Andrew was happy to adopt trusty Concerned yet Responsible Face and issue appropriate statement endorsing success of Club and encouraging their removal to a new Greenfield site at Peddimore.

When it later turned out that property developers were also hanging around and the price of removal reflected the value of the green from third man to long on, Andrew was fingered by the Party. Andrew felt so exposed he needed to write to the paper.

He doesn’t often write to the paper, doesn’t Andrew, it’s a bit beneath him. Prefers the Olympian heights of ‘Letter from Westminster’. So when letter appears, it alarms the cognoscenti. Did he really write that or did someone in the office do it for him?

Turns out, according to Andrew’s recollection: ‘At no time was development of the Walmley site ever discussed’. Well, that’s a relief then.

Just a minute.

Resolute defender of every good cause he can lay his hands on in Sutton Coldfield goes to local cricket club sitting on absolutely prime value land abut 100 yards from the centre of Walmley; endorses decision to move down the road. But at no time evinces any curiosity as to what might happen to the land.

As Horatio Nelson himself might have said: ‘I see no skips.’

Where does Andrew go from here. Can he plausibly maintain his poker face. Did he really go to the meeting? Did he really compose the letter to the Editor of the Sutton News?

I, for one, am prepared to go on record to say that I am convinced that Andrew is not a rogue.

So what does that leave?


Nightwatchman