I was watching coverage of Parliament the other day and wondering – not for the first time – why the Speaker, David Bercow is such a fantastically annoying tit.
It isn’t the fact that he is very short: many of my favourite people and closest friends are vertically challenged. And I don’t particularly mind the fact that he is excessively smiley, although, of course, that doesn’t help him achieve the gravitas necessary for a successful speakership.
Of course, his decision to ignore tradition by preferring to wear outfits more suited to a deputy regional sales manager rather than the magnificent regalia which goes with the noble office of Speaker (“It’s just not me,” he explained – apparently not realizing that, acting in the role of Speaker, he really isn’t “me”at all: he is an historic symbol of authority, independence and probity).
And I’ll even forgive the fact that he is a Tory turncoat whose daffy beanpole of a wife has turned his silly little head leftwards – and that he was elected as a ploy by Labour MPs to annoy the Conservatives, and, one presumes, to signal their ingrained contempt for the electorate
No, it’s not his shortness, his suits or his smiles – it’s that bloody hair-do that sets one’s teeth on edge: that silly little downward fringe covering half his forehead. The style always – always - looks wrong on anyone in long trousers. You’re way too old for it, Dave! Brush it back, or to the side, but not forward. It makes you look like a total arse.
Chris Patten has always sported a similar choir-boy fringe above his porky moon face: and he has always looked ridiculous. When he was being talked up as a potential Prime Minister before he lost his seat in the 1992 by-election, I was skeptical – you can’t run a country with a hair-style that screams out: “I am utterly unaware of what a prat I look”. (Of course, when he had become the last Governor of Hong Kong and it was revealed that he had two dogs named Whisky and Soda – excuse me while I unclench my toes – we all realized what a narrow escape we’d had.)
For some odd reason, hair-dos really matter – I can’t listen to Paul Weller singing without thinking of that ridiculous fake sideburns hair-style he copied fromRobert De Niro in Mean Streets. Bobby used it in one film to show us what a free-spirited “kooky” (oh no, they’re clenched again) character he was playing, and to distinguish himself from his neatly-dressed cousin in the movie, played by Harvey Keitel. There’s absolutely no excuse for adopting it for life! Weller is a middle-aged rock star, well past his prime: he’s about as free-spirited and kooky as the bloke who comes to read our gas-meter.
But let’s give pop stars a tonsorial dispensation – they have images to maintain, no matter how ridiculous (Ronnie Wood? Rod Stewart? Noel Gallagher?).
But politicians really should know better. Mind you, it’s a relief that comb-over seems to have been in retreat (geddit?) in recent years, and that no-one in the House of Commons actually sports a No.1 cut. (Give it time, though.)
Meanwhile, gentlemen, off the forehead – either back, like Cameron, or to the side, like Brown. And would you please get together and tell that bumptious little twit Bercow to try looking like a Speaker: after all, he evidently wasn’t elected for any outstanding personal qualities, so he might at least try to look the part.
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