Publish and Be Murdered by Ruth Dudley Edwards

in general – but we hate New Labour even more.’
    ‘Because?’
    ‘Because it’s like having Gladstone back.’ Potbury’s great eyebrows moved to meet each other, giving to his face a look of deep dejection. ‘Sanctimonious, high-minded bullshit, inimical to everything that makes life worth living. It’s going to be the most depressing government we’ve had for a hundred and ten years.’
    ‘Wasn’t the post-war Labour government a bit like that? And come on, Henry, surely Mrs Thatcher was as high-minded and censorious as they come.’
    ‘It’s different now, my boy. Of course Old Labour could be priggish; I admit that under Maggie there was precious little sense of joie de vivre; and when it came to sanctimoniousness the Liberals always used to win hands down. But New Labour combine all the worst of all of them. They sit there in their fastnesses in Hampstead and Islington drizzling their extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar over their radiccio, planning to meet up in Tuscany during the summer and instructing all the rest of us how to behave.’
    ‘Not too different from Thatcher when it comes to core values, though?’
    ‘Oh yes, I grant you that. She was big on duty and responsibility and industriousness too. But she had been brought up to these values and believed them. This crew have adopted them as election-winning rhetoric to cover the hollowness of their centre. And what’s more, the old girl was a lot more tolerant than this lot. Always forgave the womanizers, the drunks and didn’t grudge her husband his gin.’ He drained his glass. ‘For heaven’s sake, Maggie didn’t marry a puritan. All these New Labour buggers marry mirror images of themselves. And it’s almost required of them that they mix only with their own kind. We’ve got the narrowest ruling elite we’ve ever had.’
    ‘But they’re quite an efficient government in many ways, Henry.’
    ‘Efficient? I don’t care about efficiency. Hitler was efficient. What I want is a government that leaves us alone.’
    ‘Surely…’ interjected Amiss.
    Potbury raised a fat hand. ‘I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that under Maggie the nanny state extended its grip, but I would say to you the difference between her and Tony Blair is that she didn’t want it to. She was trapped by forces like the EU which even she could not control, yet she truly wanted to roll back the frontiers of the state. God help us, if we hadn’t had her, things would have been infinitely worse.’
    He gazed at Amiss indignantly. ‘Who are these buggers, anyway? And what have any of them ever done? They’re all career politicians. Except of course the countless lawyers that infest their ranks.’ He paused for effect and then said with deliberation. ‘There is no lower form of life.’
    ‘Henry, what have you ever done other than be a journalist?’
    ‘Ah ha, a fair point, my boy, a fair point. I have never been anything other than a hack. However, I will plead in mitigation that I’ve never claimed that my calling is a glorious one and I have never condemned the sins of others – only their lack of intellectual rigour.’
    ‘And sanctimoniousness,’ said Amiss mildly.
    ‘Oh, of course I have to condemn the puritan sins.’ Potbury began to get agitated. ‘Because puritan sins are by definition totalitarian. Puritans don’t understand the concept of “live and let live”. They’re meddlers, all of them. Whereas all we want is to be left alone to go to hell in our own way.’
     
    An hour later, after the conclusion of the tirade against liberalism that had followed the diatribe against puritanism, Amiss decided to tear himself away. As he stood up, Potbury, by now in high good humour, chuckled. ‘Whatever you do, don’t miss next Monday’s meeting.’
    Amiss sat down again.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Winterton’s back.’
    ‘The assistant editor? What’s so significant about that?’
    ‘He and Willie loathe each