Point and Laugh at Michael Howard

Michael Howard, whose tenure as Conservative leader will end on election night, will
leave nothing behind him on the political landscape except an infamous appearance on
Newsnight that he made as Home Secretary. He is, in the most profound and accurate
sense, a loser. Heaven knows how this 63 year old piece of flotsam washed himself into
his current position- my best guess is that his hard-line stance appealed to a few select
party faces, desperate to reclaim the ground they lost under Hague and Duncan-Smith.
Whatever, it didn't work. There was a time, just prior to the Tory party conference in 2001,
when they actually overtook Labour in the polls, heady days indeed. That this triumph was
expertly scuppered by Labour spin over Marijuana use matters not- but those days are long
gone. The Tories will be wiped out by a faded but extant Labour and a ground-swell of
Liberal support, it is not Michael Howard's fault that he will lose, but it is very much his fault
that he will lose catastrophically.

Let us cast a glimpse at what could have been the deciding issue of the election- the Iraq
war. Howard supported it at it's commencement, but when it went bad, tried to decry it.
Now, he committed no intrinsic falsity here, but he should have suitably moderated his
statements on the subject. He didn't, and appeared to be desperately jumping on the
nearest bandwagon out of Bush country. He can expostulate about being "for the troops,
but against what the war has become" all he likes, but fortunately, in this area, the British
public seem to have develop an accurate bullshit detector. In fact, should said device be
dangled in front of Howard, it could do nothing but groan sadly until a small plume of blue
smoke emerged from it's back.

Michael Howard exudes that most horrific of vices, smugness. One can see it in his oleaginous
features as he leans over his lectern at Prime Ministers question time. The unjustified
satisfaction that permeates his face when he thinks he has finally found some ammunition
to throw at Labour. The problem is that the ammunition is there, but that some wag has
bent his gun-barrel round 180 degrees and neglected to tell him. Firstly, and most recently,
he has leapt upon the predicament of one Mrs. Dixon, a septuagenarian who has suffered
at the hands of the NHS, which has steadfastly refused to operate upon her injured arm.
The sight of Howard, greeting this woman outside his house with a greasy smile and a
"How aarrrreee you" positively turns ones stomach. Because of course, everyone already
knows that the NHS is struggling, and that these circumstances occur. Yes, it's a filthy,
rotten shame, but what the yellow, badgery fuck is Michael on to believe that by a-slippin'
and a-slidin' over to this woman, that people will vote Conservative?

Several months ago, Howard fired Boris Johnson, which brings me my next reason for
disliking him. Johnson seemingly knocked up some secretary or other behind his wife's back
and then directed her to an abortionist. Howard claimed that Johnson was fired, not for
this abhorrent behaviour, but for lying to him about it. "It is his private life" he moaned, "and
his sacking isn't to do with those actions". His miscalculation this time was centred around
the fact that many, many people like Boris Johnson outside, whilst few like him. If we are
to accept his explanation (an act towards which I am disinclined), then my natural reaction
would be this: "If it is indeed his private life, then why did you ask him about it at all". He
may take an interest in the moral countenances of his subjects, but by cracking jokes about
Johnson using "Political Viagra" and "Keeping it up" then he hardly helped the situation. He came across as a bitter, jealous fuck-wit, using innuendo, which would surely have been morbidly offensive to the Johnson family. Naturally the situation would have been best served, if Johnson had kept his wang to himself, but that is another matter- certainly according to Howard.

Imagine, if you will, the position: You are the leader of a dying opposition party, people don't like you and, even in the face of huge opposition to the government, you are unable to make any progress in the polls. What is one to do? Howard's answer was to let a documentary film follow him about and show us, if you have a bucket handy, his soft, squidgy underbelly. We saw a desperately sad man, on a clear and well-paved path towards oblivion. In preparation for Prime Minister's questions, he was floundering for an angle, lost in the leering, pock-marked face of his own incapability.

Sometimes I wonder about politicians. I'm sure many people do, but what I wonder specifically, is whether or not they took the decision to enter politics seriously enough. To stand above the common man and ask them to allow you to represent their interests is an almighty statement that makes several demands upon whosoever may make it. It requires, first and foremost, the absolute submersion of ego. You, as an appreciable entity, do not occupy office, you are an engine for the execution of the wishes of those whom you serve, and your personal life is irrelevant. This doesn't just mean that that the average voter shouldn't give a fuck if you want to sodomise rubber effigies of early eighties, hard-man, soft-rock titan Peter Frampton of a Tuesday afternoon (which they shouldn't). It means that I, the voter, have precisely no interest in the petty office shite that you go through, no interest in how much you like the Darkness and absolutely no interest in seeing your soft, squidgy underbelly. Those that think so, are in error and this is where the aforementioned bullshit detector comes in hand once more. By exposing, by design and by accident, the mechanics of his political life, Michael Howard shows himself to be neither fish nor fowl. Whilst happy to claim allegiance with hard-line Conservatives, whose interests he does not serve, he is also desperate to be liked, and this brings us back to the trial of Mrs. Dixon's arm.

When Michael Howard has resigned after the election, in the years to come he will be remembered for his appearance on Newsnight. I have seen the clip several times, and find it funnier with each viewing. Jeremy Paxman continually asks "Did you threaten to overrule Derek Lewis"? With each asking, his responses become more and more evasive, he leaves longer gaps before answering, perhaps in some desperate bid to wind down the clock. "I note you're not answering the question" says Paxman, "If you ask me a question, I will answer it" says a visibly perspiring Howard before demonstrably not doing so for the eighth time. I have no idea what the circumstances behind this interview were, and only a vague conception of the job that Derek Lewis had, time has corroded the historical context somewhat, and no doubt will do so further. Eventually, even Howard's name will be lost, leaving us only with the wretched face, of a wretched man worthy of nothing so much as our pity.

By J.L. Cranfield