Hello everyone. Have you noticed that the world has changed? The Conservative Party has decided to sack David Cameron and replace him with Derek off Big Brother.
I’m obviously a brilliant campaigner. My efforts to get Radio Devon’s Gordon Sparks on Radio 2 have reached 102 youtube views and 25 members of the facebook group. It’s incredible – I should have been on the Obama team – there’d be no Republican states on the map at all.
I don’t want to gloss over the significance of the US elections. But I’m obviously going to be whimsically cynical about it, because that’s how I am. Can we change the world? Yes. Can we change our own personalities? No. Not without prescription drugs and therapy and I’m not going for either of those just yet. I’ll wait ‘til I become a celebrity and have a breakdown, thanks.
Many commentators are drawing comparisons with the ’97 election in the UK. Of course, we have less global significance, but after growing up under the shadow of Thatcherism and post-Maggie Tory sleaze, this felt genuinely momentous. And as a 24 year old radio news reporter, I was right in the thick of the election night action at the count in… Plymouth Guildhall. The atmosphere was electric. I felt like David Dimbleby, Peter Snow and Jeremy Vine all rolled into one, only physically smaller than that combination of political humanity would be.
In the lead up to the election I also had a chance to interview Tony Blair. And I took that chance with both hands and gave him the grilling of his life. Never in the history of political interviews has a future prime minister had to answer so many questions about Plymouth in five minutes. It was nerve-wracking. I arrived at The Moathouse hotel with the most ridiculously antiquated radio transmitting equipment strapped to me – it looked like one of those really old rambler’s back packs with a metal frame, bright orange canvas and a huge microphone spurting out of it. So I felt like a massive dick before I’d even started. I was transmitting the interview via a truck to the studio where they would record it in time for the 5 o’clock news. I also had a recorder, so I actually had two microphones, just to make sure I didn’t screw the whole thing up and to make sure I looked super-ridiculous.
I was lead into Tony Blair’s suite where our future great leader was sat casually in a shirt and tie with a cup of tea. I thought he seemed too relaxed about it all. I’d be sh*tt*ng myself at the prospect (of leading the country, not of being interviewed by a Plymouth Sound reporter). A vision came to me – this is the kind of guy that would happily take us into a war without getting too stressed about it – he’d just be sipping his tea on the phone to his mate in the states going ‘yeah let’s do it!’ I never said anything at the time, because who’d listen to a young whippersnapper like me? And anyhow I had important questions to ask about Devonport Dockyard, how long it takes to get from Plymouth to London on the train and something about fishing.
The start of the interview was masterful. I set the scene for our listeners, you know, with one of those preambles that low-level broadcasters like to do. ‘Here we are, me and Tone, in a hotel room with complementary tea and coffee making facilities, a view over Plymouth Sound (the harbour seafront) and it is a beautiful morning. So Tony…’ It was, indeed, sunny and beautiful, but it wasn’t the morning, it was 4pm in the afternoon. Lucky it wasn’t live. I didn’t notice and ploughed on, thinking why are they looking at me funny, while my colleagues back in the studio were simultaneously laughing their bits off at my ineptitude and hoping I didn’t screw the entire interview up.
All seems exciting though doesn’t it? The actual interview was hilarious. I just had a list of Plymouth, South Devon and South East Cornwall (the Plymouth Sound transmission area) related questions that I had to get through. ‘What about the dockyard, the military, council tax and finally, Mr. Blair, what are you going to do for the fish?’ You had to get as much material from the interview as possible so you could run different stories in news bulletins over the course of the next day or so – that’s how it works. Still, it’s a story to tell. And yes, he was an impressive, charismatic and imposing presence. You don’t get to be Prime Minister without having a bit of that, even if you’re John Major, who according to my colleague who interviewed him was incredibly charismatic in real life. Loser McCain’s first name is also John, so it just goes to show.
The election night was an experience. Even in Plymouth Guildhall and even though I had the ridiculous backpack on again, running around grabbing wannabe MPs, elected MPs and losing candidates. And the barely, no not even barely concealed joy amongst almost all the journos there when it became clear that Labour were going to be elected by a landslide. Where was I for Portillo? In the Guildhall with an orange backpack running around like a demented rambler with a microphone.
Back then, we youngsters thought the times were-indeed-a-changin’. He was the people’s prime minister. Blair would lead us to the Promised Land. Well he did some things in that general direction… In the USA Clinton was dragged down by a scandal involving someone who looked like my ex-girlfriend (before we went out she even featured in a paper in a story with the following tagline ‘I can’t get a boyfriend, because I look like Monica Lewinsky.’ She did too, but I’m not going to drag this piece further into the gutter with talk of dress stains and cigars) See, still at the heart of global events.
Obama’s election is a far more significant event in world history than Blair’s, but there are parallels. A charismatic young challenger after a period of turbulence and controversy (although comparing Major’s tenure with Dubya’s is a wee bit unfair, even when you think back to the mental image of Norman Lamont in a bath), great hope amongst large sections of the electorate and the feeling that change was not just inevitable, it was utterly necessary.
It’s not like Blair did nothing good, but it’s impossible to meet expectations and Barack Obama doesn’t need a former Plymouth Sound radio journalist to tell him that. (He is a Tillerpop subscriber, though) He knows to manage expectations, but at the same time he has to work his nuts off to get as much done as quickly as possible before the shine wears off. He needs to plan meticulously for his takeover in January and not make any rash decisions. But I fear he is already doing just that. The announcement that he’s getting a dog for his daughters to take to The White House is a worrying first move. Remember Barack, a puppy is for life, not just for the presidency.
That’s all for now.
Lots of presidential love
Matt
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