Don't
stare too long at the notches on the bedpost
No stranger to controversy herself, the ex-MP says politicians'
sex lives distract from real issues
By Edwina Currie
Last updated
Sunday April 6 2008
Last week I weakened and bought GQ. What exactly had demure, squeaky-clean
Lib Dem leader Nick Clegg been thinking when he announced that he
had had 30 lovers and was quite good in bed? On Question Time Clare
Short, Theresa May and Sarah Teather were equally baffled. Meanwhile,
63-year-old Ken Livingstone was revealed to have fathered no fewer
than five children with three different mothers, not quite what
one expects shortly before the most hotly contested mayoral election
for years.
What is it
with these politicians? Is a casual attitude to sex, love and parenthood
so insignificant that they assume they can get away with it? Is
male virility of such value that it ranks ahead of probity and discretion
as a political virtue in this benighted 21st century? Or is it just
the flowering of spring, as the sap rises and the step quickens
and the bunnies go hopping about in the fields?
To be fair
to Nick Clegg, he didn't claim 30 lovers, rather the opposite: 'No
more than 30.' And he was becomingly modest: 'I don't think I am
particularly brilliant or particularly bad!' But an interview in
a posh boys' mag with that dirty-minded old pro Piers Morgan was
bound to end in disaster. Sandwiched between ads for Jaguars and
Savile Row suits, Clegg's defence to silly hypothetical questions
('If Iraq invaded us...') and to blatantly rude inquiries into his
private life make him sound a complete prat. He's Cleggover from
here on, and will be forever greeted in the Commons by backbenchers
waving a leg.
Livingstone
is in a different mode. He always seemed far too engrossed in politics
to be distracted by sexual dalliance, so we believed that fatherhood
had come only lately, at an age when most men have grandchildren.
The offspring of the Livingstone loins, he shrugged, were 'private'
not secret. Perhaps 'come up and see my biggest newt' was a more
successful chat-up line than we all realised.
There's nothing
new about powerful men acting and talking as if their personal behaviour
was entirely their own affair. Indeed, had Clegg simply told Morgan
he would not stoop to his level by answering such interrogation,
as he did over drug-taking at university, we would have nodded in
approval. Livingstone clearly felt it was none of our business over
the years, and perhaps he was right; far better to judge him on
how he and his acolytes misspend public money.
What the public
react to, however, is the contrast between what a politician says,
or implies, about what he regards as important, and what he is actually
doing when the lights are out. That's hypocrisy, and it leaves a
bad taste in the mouth.
I can't be
too censorious, and I won't be. But if a man wants to project a
responsible, clean-living image as his normal way of life, then
it helps to live it. Of course it does depend what you regard as
normal. I recall a debate at the DHSS in 1986 as we discussed the
wording for the first Aids leaflet going to 23 million households.
How should we warn against promiscuity?
'It depends
what you mean by promiscuity,' murmured Minister of State, John
Major. We went round the table. 'Three or more,' I suggested coyly.
'Twelve?' came from another minister. 'At least 50,' suggested an
aide, then blushed furiously as we all gaped.
On Friday's
Woman's Hour the discussion focused on the persistent double standards
facing male and female politicians. The men, like Alan Clark, tend
to boast about their prowess (even when fictional), while for women
it's a big no-no. The old stereotypes are still around.
I used to deflect
interest by saying that the handful of women MPs had worked too
darned hard to get to the Commons to put their careers at risk,
though Mo Mowlam famously claimed a 'spectacularly chaotic' love-life.
It is hard to imagine Jacqui Smith being asked how many lovers she
has had, or dealing with it other than with a snort. Yet when Paddy
Ashdown was revealed to have had an affair with his secretary, his
poll ratings went up; and while some voters were disgusted with
President Clinton's sexual behaviour in the Oval Office others,
mainly men, admired and envied him.
The difference
between our times and that of earlier generations is that whereas
politicians once kept their mouths shut about mistresses while much
was known about their income and expenditure, now it's the other
way round.
'Honesty' is
to be applied to sex and paternity, it seems, but not to the grocery
bill. Information on the latter has had to be extracted from the
Commons Egyptian mummy-style, drawing the brain out through the
nostrils with pincers.
Be warned: both are a distraction. Tony Benn was right; it's the
'ishoos' that matter. As we wallow in trivia, the effects of policies
will never be properly examined and condemned. And that is why we
are scratching our heads over grocery bills and petrol prices, why
thousands will lose their homes this year, why millions are gasping
at their April pay cheque as yet more dosh goes to the Exchequer,
why more soldiers will die in Iraq.
Take too much
interest in who they are sleeping with, and they will get away with
daylight robbery. Or worse.
The Observer
- Sunday April 6th 2008
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