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Apparently he's offered him Nick Clegg's job.
Anyway.
When the Caesars organised themselves a triumph – that is, arranged to trundle through the streets of Rome with the conquered slaves and captured booty of their latest acquisition driven before them whilst surrounded by the cheering mob – riding in their chariot with them would be a chap whose job it was to occasionally lean forward and whisper in their ear “Remember, sir, that you are mortal”. In an era when it was not unusual for Emperors to be deified, sometimes whilst they were still alive, it seemed prudent to have someone to remind them that, yes, they’d achieved all this – ruler of the mightiest empire in the world, conqueror to the horizon and deflowerer of untold virgins and all that – but they weren’t a god and so they were still fallible.
The Catholic Church has someone whose role is sort-of similar: the Devil’s Advocate. When someone is put up for sainthood their job is to argue as strenuously as possible why they shouldn’t be a saint. To point out that, yes, Mother Theresa might have brought relief to the suffering multitudes of Calcutta, but wasn’t there that time she went off the rails and murdered a couple of guys in a dope deal gone wrong? And what about those photographs from when she was a student? Not very saintly there, hey?*
I’ve thought for a while that what government needs is someone to perform a similar role. To sit in on departmental meetings and whose job it is to periodically lean forward and say things like “But Gordon, what if you haven’t ended boom and bust?” or “But George, won’t printing another hundred billion quid punish long-term saving and investment and reward short term behaviour of the sort which got us into this mess in the first place? Are you sure that’s such a bright idea?”
I always had a mental image of the person doing this job as perhaps someone in a reasonably smart suit and tie, generally looking all professional-like to lend them an air of gravity. Maybe they’d look, well, rather like me, and be hugely well paid. That’s where my mental image starts to drift off into the realms of fantasy, I must admit.
And then I saw this video from the riots last year.
And that’s when it came to me: What every government committee needs is a Jamaican Granny. Sitting at the foot of the meeting table with a huge flowery hat, crossed arms and a take-no-prisoners glare. She could say things like “What you think you doing, Mister Cameron? Hmmn? You better think this war with Iran through again!” I cannot think of a single piece of government policy or legislation which would not have been dramatically improved by a Jamaican granny who didn’t suffer fools gladly being involved at an early stage of development.
*I’m making this up.**
**Or AM I?
Anyway.
When the Caesars organised themselves a triumph – that is, arranged to trundle through the streets of Rome with the conquered slaves and captured booty of their latest acquisition driven before them whilst surrounded by the cheering mob – riding in their chariot with them would be a chap whose job it was to occasionally lean forward and whisper in their ear “Remember, sir, that you are mortal”. In an era when it was not unusual for Emperors to be deified, sometimes whilst they were still alive, it seemed prudent to have someone to remind them that, yes, they’d achieved all this – ruler of the mightiest empire in the world, conqueror to the horizon and deflowerer of untold virgins and all that – but they weren’t a god and so they were still fallible.
The Catholic Church has someone whose role is sort-of similar: the Devil’s Advocate. When someone is put up for sainthood their job is to argue as strenuously as possible why they shouldn’t be a saint. To point out that, yes, Mother Theresa might have brought relief to the suffering multitudes of Calcutta, but wasn’t there that time she went off the rails and murdered a couple of guys in a dope deal gone wrong? And what about those photographs from when she was a student? Not very saintly there, hey?*
I’ve thought for a while that what government needs is someone to perform a similar role. To sit in on departmental meetings and whose job it is to periodically lean forward and say things like “But Gordon, what if you haven’t ended boom and bust?” or “But George, won’t printing another hundred billion quid punish long-term saving and investment and reward short term behaviour of the sort which got us into this mess in the first place? Are you sure that’s such a bright idea?”
I always had a mental image of the person doing this job as perhaps someone in a reasonably smart suit and tie, generally looking all professional-like to lend them an air of gravity. Maybe they’d look, well, rather like me, and be hugely well paid. That’s where my mental image starts to drift off into the realms of fantasy, I must admit.
And then I saw this video from the riots last year.
And that’s when it came to me: What every government committee needs is a Jamaican Granny. Sitting at the foot of the meeting table with a huge flowery hat, crossed arms and a take-no-prisoners glare. She could say things like “What you think you doing, Mister Cameron? Hmmn? You better think this war with Iran through again!” I cannot think of a single piece of government policy or legislation which would not have been dramatically improved by a Jamaican granny who didn’t suffer fools gladly being involved at an early stage of development.
*I’m making this up.**
**Or AM I?
