Rising East Online

Pantomime politics

Kelly Handscomb

Kelly Handscomb describes two episodes in parliamentary scrutiny of the road to London 2012. In the first scene, the chief witness dominates the performance; in the second, the protagonist is the chairwoman of the transport select committee. Both scenes suggest high farce rather than public accountability.

9.30am and I was outside Portcullis House, queuing to get through security so I could hear Ken Livingstone, Mayor of London, and Mary Riley, chief executive of the London Development Agency, giving oral evidence on London 2012 to the parliamentary select committee for Culture, Media and Sport.

I was barely through the door when armed police and half a dozen security personnel bore down on me. Someone started frisking me, while another put my bag through the x-ray machine. It was like when you are going through passport control, and they ask you if you have anything to declare, you know you have not, but there is always that guilty feeling. Then I was walking through the metal detector – again I was back in the airport just waiting for the alarm to go off. But no, I was clean and through security.

If you walk through the main door of Portcullis House, as I did, the security is impressively tight. However, just to the right off this door there is a revolving door not meant for the public but for the important people: they had their own passes which they swiped outside, and the door turned round two-thirds to let them in. But they only need a third of a turn to get through, and members of the public were going in behind them and getting stuck in the doors. On seeing their plight, people loitering in the reception area were pressing the exit button to release them; and in they came, no frisking, no bag checking and certainly no metal detector. Apart from looking like a Norman Wisdom film, it made a mockery of security.

Once in the building and up the stairs towards the committee room, I realised I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Toto. The paintings covering the walls seemed expensive; equally impressive were the carved wood and crushed velvet of the benches outside the committee rooms; and the carpets were so luxuriously thick it made you want to take your shoes off and feel the softness oozing between your toes. One side of each wall was glass. Behind the glass was the forbidden zone, for important people only; members of the public were not allowed down there but could watch from above. The building was full of staff, quietly rushing as if late for a very important meeting: doozers in grey suits.

Finally, I found a seat in Committee Room 13. I was there to hear how the public would be involved, and how the committee and its deliberations were going to make us feel and be part of London 2012. However, that was after the private meeting (no admittance to the public) between members of Ken Livingstone, Mary Riley and members of the Culture, Media and Sport committee.

Suddenly it was show time. The lights came on, journalists were hushed in anticipation. But there were no surprises. After the first few minutes, it was clear who had the X-factor. Mayor Ken gave a smooth performance, one I doubt even Simon Cowell could have slammed.

Nigel Evans MP asked “who’s going to pay the bill for the Olympics after the final curtain? There is no guarantee there won’t be huge overruns just like the Dome, Wembley Arena and the Scottish Parliament building”. You might not have heard this as an invitation for Ken to talk about himself, but his pat answer was an exercise in self-appreciation: previous developments were nothing to do with him, all the projects he worked on have been on time and within budget; the extension of the Docklands Light Railway due in December will show this.

Labour was next on the agenda. Not as in New, but who would actually do the building work for the Olympics, and where would they come from? Have estimates been made for the number of labourers needed? Ken confirmed that the pool of London labour would be sufficient; the East End is an area of high unemployment, some people in their forties have never had secure jobs; now they will all have a chance. But what likelihood of using teams of foreign workers to do the construction work, as with the ‘small village’ of foreigners who have built Terminal 5 at Heathrow? This prospect was dismissed by Mayor Ken, who said locals will get the jobs, not Afghans or Kosovans, ‘not that I have anything against Kosovans.’

Oh, the cringe factor was intense! Have you ever been with someone who tells a joke about gays, and ends with, “I’m not homophobic, though”. In an otherwise bravura performance, that’s how Ken’s temporary blip made me feel.

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In Committee Room 8, Gwyneth Dunwoody MP, chairwoman of the transport select committee, played the part of a stern school mistress; members of her committee were perfect prefects; and the witnesses (Rt Hon Richard Caborn, Minister of State, Ms Karen Buck, Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State, and Mr Ben Stafford, Team Leader 2012 Olympics) behaved like nervous first years.

Proceedings began with talk of land issues and allotments. There was a covenant that says sports facilities cannot be built on allotted land, which, as the Minister said, is “not very helpful”. He explained that there is a discussion going on between the LCR through the LDA to come to an amicable arrangement. But Teacher was not happy with this drift. Sternly, she requested “a few less initials and a bit more….” With the insouciance of someone new to the class, the Minister dared to continue with his answer – a gesture of defiance he might later come to regret.

Then it was homework time, pertaining to public money and the expenditure of it by commercial organisations. Teacher promised not to set too much prep, but a detailed note was required, and should be handed in within three or four days. Buck, the junior minister promised to buckle down to the task, and would have it in on time: “absolutely, I can assure you”. But Teacher could not resist restating her commanding position: “if we are talking in billions, the committee will be taking an interest”. Happy to be associated with their mistress and her mission, the prefects beamed.

The other homework set consisted of various detailed notes on when the Thames Link is to be brought into use, since, as Teacher says, is it not clear how you can run an efficient transport system in London without the development of this component, yet it does not seem to be part of the Olympics delivery plans. Again Buck was told to go away and look at this one because we just want to know what the solutions are. In an instance of co-educational chivalry, Stafford tried to stand up for his female, fellow first year, interjecting that clearly one of the solutions would be to actually build the thing before the 2012 Olympics. The room erupted in laughter. Teacher Dunwoody shouted above the din: “that indeed would be a solution, indeed not building it would also be a solution but of a different kind”.

Next lesson: grammar. Prefect Leech asked the Minister whether the Olympics are likely to coincide with the start of the football season. The assurance came back that the two would not clash. Despite a raised eyebrow, figuratively speaking, from Teacher, the prefect did not want to let go. The start of the season was getting sooner and sooner, he warned. At which point Teacher pulled him up: it should be ‘earlier and earlier’. The prefect apologised and the lesson moved on.

The prefects recovered from this setback, and, as the school day wore on, started to set homework of their own, until Teacher reined them in. Then it was Stafford’s turn, he who had championed Buck. Called to answer questions on the modification of vehicle access regulations, he made the mistake of appearing to look to Buck to confirm how he might answer. This was too lovey-dovey for Teacher. “You can tell us Mr Stafford”, she boomed. “You don’t have to tell Madame Buck who can then tell us. You try telling us yourself”. There was an outbreak of smirking. The time was fast approaching when everyone in the classroom would have to take sides, either with the callow first years or with domineering Teacher and her sidekicks. Most of those present took the easy option. Strengthened by this, Teacher Dunwoody seemed to become even more scornful.

Teacher felt free to interrupt on issues such as the Jubilee line construction and cost over runs, to whether there were sufficient links in South East London to take people to the Olympics. The senior minister (Caborn) had sunk back into his chair, and was letting his junior (Buck) take the heat. Prefect Leech quizzed her as to why certain schemes outside London were considered too expensive yet equally expensive schemes in London, including £10 billion on Crossrail, are considered perfectly reasonable. Buck flipped back that there has always been healthy and creative tension between London and the Regions. Bad mistake! Did she forget who is MP for Crewe, a regional town which has lost much of its former significance in the national rail network? Teacher Dunwoody whipped back: “you won’t mind those of us who regard that as a slightly sophisticated way of saying that everything goes to the South East and the rest of us get the crumbs!”

Finally it was 5pm, the school bell was ringing, and the first years scrabbled to their feet grabbing bags and coats, and running out the room back to the security of their mothers’ apron strings. Meanwhile Teacher thanked the class and gave Stafford a star for effort.

Kelly Handscomb is studying Journalism.

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