Peter Mandelson: Labour’s answer to Dorian Gray

Peter Mandelson is a strange character. Sinister, charming, smarmy, Machiavellian, smooth, affable, charismatic; these are all adjectives that could describe the First Secretary of State, Business Minister, the Baron Mandelson of Foy and Hartlepool. When Peter Mandelson was made a Lord and brought back into the cabinet by Gordon Brown I was completely shocked and wondered what Gordon Brown could have possibly been thinking, bringing one of the most despised politicians in the country back into the forefront of government. Let's not forget, Mandelson is loathed by partisan Tories; after all he stole the centre-ground and middle class vote from the Conservative party and left them unelectable for a good decade. He is also hated by general conservative-minded old-fashioned folk who are repelled by his meterosexual, urbane tone (perpetuated by the mushy peas/guacamole fabricated anecdote) summed up perfectly by David Starkey labelling him a cretin or some such a couple of years ago on Question Time. They see the whole New Labour project as unfair because it stole some wealthy voters and it made it look cool to say you voted Labour amongst yuppies; they hate him because he embodies the nouveau riche yuppie generation borne of Thatcherism that the Barbour-wearing tax dodgers vehemently dislike. Mandelson also has the displeasure of being hugely disliked by many in his own party, especially those on the left who saw him as destroying the soul of the Labour party by dragging it kicking and screaming to the right. His mannerisms and personality – his lack of the "common touch" normally expected in Labour politicians – compounds his unpopularity.

Anyway this disbelief I felt when faced with Brown's decision to re-employ Mandelson after twice proving unreliable and being loathed as EU Commissioner proved to be shockingly misplaced. Not only did he perform some sort of magic to get the cabinet back on track and with more purpose (albeit attempting to privatise Royal Mail in the process) but successfully halted a potential cabinet coup and made ministers all around him rally round Brown like some sick Pied Piper of Hartlepool, preying on innocent Secretaries of State like Alan Johnson (and the youthful David Miliband, as if intentionally emulating the plaid Hamelin flautist). He now seems unstoppable, untouchable (but in such an unpredictable world by tomorrow could be sunk). According to some it is because he has nothing to lose. He is no longer as he was a youthful ambitious political obsessive, but a relaxed man on a mission: to save the Labour Party (from electoral ruin or interparty factionalism).

The Guardian website is a treasure trove of Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and astute political analysis. It is on that website I was drawn attention to Peter Mandelson's resemblance to the fictional character of Dorian Gray in Oscar Wilde's classic. Read this excerpt from Decca Aitkenhead's interview with Mandelson:

"Everywhere we went, before my eyes people fell in love with him. Trade union bosses, management consultants, random strangers on railway platforms – no one seemed to be immune. I've never seen anyone seduce so many people with such effortless allure – nor take such palpable pleasure in every conquest – and the intensity of his theatre is electrifying to behold."

Basil Hallward describes meeting Dorian Gray for the first time: "When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if allowed to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself."

Aitkenhead on Mandelson: "His skin is dewy, as if fresh from a spa facial, and his grooming so flawless he looks almost hyper-real, the cuff links and tie delicately co-ordinated, with their detail inversely echoed in his socks. I'd swear he even has his eyebrows shaped, though he denies it – "What, pay someone to rip my eyebrows out? Is that some kind of sexual thing?" His whole body seems weirdly untroubled by the passage of time, his movements fluid to the point of feline, but it's the voice above all which can mesmerise. He talks very softly – that old trick for winning people's attention that John Prescott, for one, never learned – and unusually slowly, giving the impression that every single word is invested with deep significance, even when it's quite innocuous."

That last bit is the most worrying – "his whole body seems weirdly untroubled by the passage of time". It does seem odd that a man who has been through such a long and arduous time in mainstream politics (two cabinet resignations, the 1980s electoral nightmares for Labour, constant vilification by the press) looks so immaculate. Remember that Mandelson was always at Blair's right hand and was part of the New Labour project even before Blair became high-profile in the shadow cabinet. Now look at how the past decade has ravaged Blair's face:

He looks almost

as old and wrinkly as Steve Lamacq.

Contrast this with Mandelson's smooth skinned face, wrinkle free and sneering. His hair is always perfectly in place and remains thick and dark. Anyone who knows the story of The Picture of Dorian Grey may recognise such a comparison – Gray wished to stay beautiful forever and for all the nastiness in his personality to show itself in a portrait of himself rather than on his handsome face. Perhaps Mandelson has such a portrait in his office. Or perhaps he has wished for all his ugliness to come out in Blair rather than himself.

In Oscar Wilde's novel Lord Henry asks Basil how often he sees Dorian Gray: "Every day. I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day. He is absolutely necessary to me." Multiple newspaper articles have indicated that Peter Mandelson sees the Prime Minister every day, particularly since the catastrophic European elections after which Mandelson saved Brown's face somewhat. Clearly the Prime Minister is as mesmerised by Mandelson as everyone else seems to be.

Anyway this may seem bizarre enough but I've been thinking more and more about Mandelson and New Labour and the idea that perhaps, New Labour was not merely adopting electability/Anthony Giddens' theory of the Third Way/neoliberalism/centre-ground etc. but that it has the signs of a violent revolution. Shrew, a Feminism and Non-violence publication active in the 1970s refused to accept violence and recognised that "too often violent revolution has involved the substitution of one group of rulers for another" and that nonviolent revolution was an evolving process, reaching a point when "the concept of power itself is destroyed". Barbara Deming, another influential feminist, argued, the distinction between violence and nonviolence was that those committed to nonviolence refused to "injure the antagonist". In other words, nonviolent revolution is about resisting (in a positive-sum game) and violent revolution is about destroying your opponents (negative-sum). With such choices it seems that New Labour destroyed their enemies within the Labour Party (banishing the hard left and militant tendency permanently) and reduced the Conservative Party to an embarrassing rump of MPs; rather than a popular revolution, we merely substituted one group of rulers for another. Needless to say, violent revolutions end in power corrupting and the masses losing out to political egos. Sound familiar?

The Demise of the Science Museum

When not battling out on the tennis court with Rosa this summer, I've found myself in a similar situation to hers; lacking in employment and money, and overwhelmed by the huge expanse of time that lies between the end of one term and the beginning of the next. (I've personally undertaken the task of fixing my bike, but unless you also own a decrepit old road bike that doesn't brake, change gear or even pedal properly, and consists of all continental parts that have to be searched for on ebay, this is unlikely to appeal to you). Attempting monetary gains outside the realm of employment is always possible, but, from someone 20 cds down and only £40 richer, don't rely on it to relieve your financial woes. No, when time is rich and, well, you aren't, it is the bargain bin of activities to which you must head. And so it is that in the summer time I find myself visiting more galleries and museums than the most artsy of tourists.

It is a widely known London fact that if you grew up in the capital city, the Science Museum was amazing. Large rooms of seemingly impossible games and activities, halls filled with giant spaceships, the sheer hugeness of the place; all of this constituted the greatest play room in the world. Of course, I knew my return to this childhood mecca could never live up to this; this museum had made sure I was well equiped with an understanding of perception, and I was under no illusion that my adult height would no longer be quite so dwarfed. However, the problem I found was greater than this.

For the museum has changed, and science faces a new enemy. Richard Dawkins will have you believe its religion; in truth, it is a misguided fascination with technology. While the old collections remain, it is clear that interactivity is the new direction of the museum. This in itself is not problematic, until you realize the museum’s idea of interactivity is largely based around the abundance of touch screen computers. This is seemingly in an attempt to reduce the effort of actually creating a display, as most of the computers seemed to consist in no more than paragraphs of information with the inclusion of a ‘next button’ at the bottom, no doubt the curator’s attempts to appeal to “all those Twittering kids who probably miss their computers.” It might as well have been printed onto a shoddy notebook and left on a table to lead through; at least that would have excluded the annoying feeling that I could have had the exact same experience on my laptop at home.

All the other computers featured fairly basic activities, the ‘match up the telephone part’ type of game. This would be better, no doubt, if any one the machines had actually been working. For the second problem with this new focus on the digital age is that, generally speaking, real life displays don’t have the same tendency to suddenly turn into a blue-screened error page, thereby making them totally fucking useless. In a room full of 10 or so computers, literally 7 were out of use, a theme made common as we strolled through other parts of the museum.

That’s not to say technology should be shunned, and interactivity rejected; the right touch could enhance the visitor experience greatly, and it would be unforgivable to ignore computers as a milestone in human progression. However visiting the Science Museum today leaves the impression of technology too rudimentary and lazy to offer the magic and excitement that the place once held for the children who visited it. If the museum should tell us anything about science it’s how to bridge gaps, not how to cut corners.

Only Dick

George Bush 'soft on war'.

Only Dick Cheney would come out with such nonsense.

I was bored before I even began

Having around two months of holiday over the summer and an empty to-do list can seem so overwhelming that it becomes more stressful than term time.

Fear of losing my sanity to Loose Women and Homes Under the Hammer has forced me to look elsewhere for daytime entertainment. I tried cross-stitch but I'm not getting very far and am pretty sure I've already fucked it up.

Needless to say the Guardian's G2 crosswords prove useful on a day of nothing. But my new found time-wasting exercise is doing jigsaw puzzles.

I bought this from Oxfam for a couple of pounds. I love the tube map so it is the perfect 500-piece puzzle for me.

Charity shops are great for jigsaws as they are cheap, most have been checked and because they are so unpopular (probably because most people on the planet with taste have better things to do) there is normally a fairly good selection.

My next tip will both consume time and improve health - another activity I am dallying with is exercise. Me and Tom (of this very blog) have begun a weekly tradition of tennis followed by the excellent Rough Trade pop quiz at the Lexington. Tennis is perhaps the only sport I can play that is for enjoyment rather than health purposes/pain/misery.

Not only does sport fill one's time and potentially put off death for minutes, hours, days etc. but it also gives a good excuse to try out some interesting sportswear. By wearing clothes made by the same label, you can pretend to be sponsored by a certain brand. Personally I have selected purple Adidas running shorts, Adidas Stan Smith trainers and a Fred Perry t shirt (tennis would not be tennis without some Fred Perry attire). The look is completed with an Adidas jacket and with a bottle of orange squash and my racket slung over my shoulder I really look the part. Of course this is most of the fun and perhaps I have taken it too far by choosing to actually partake physically in exercise. Luckily for me all my apparel were bargains from second hand shops or old sportswear I found around my house; a good sports outfit can be very pricey. American Apparel has the triple advantage of i) being expensive ii) appearing to be cheap and brand-less iii) not being as suitable for sport as you'd hope. But you could always buy a swimsuit and pose at London Fields lido instead.

Anyway my third tip for curing summer boredom is the much more enjoyable prospect of learning something new. The past couple of years I have considered languages, photography, even calligraphy. This summer I am in the throes of learning the piano accordion. I managed to borrow a full-size 120 bass piano accordion that looks a little like this:

This photo does not fully display the dimensions of the instrument. It measures approximately 50cm lengthways and 40 cm widthways, and weights around 8 kg. Now on a fairly small female such as myself this takes up a considerable amount of my body and overwhelms me somewhat, I cannot practice too long for fear of back and arm ache. Seeing as beginners are supposed to start on the 48 bass size (48 buttons under the left hand rather than 120) you could say (as Tom of H.V. often does) that I have "taken on too much".

The piano accordion is a pretty amazing instrument that I would recommend learning if you can get hold of one and has proven itself to be very versatile. I have learned a few bits and pieces like La Marseillaise and the Red Flag as well as playing along to Beirut and trying out bad cover versions.

Boredom quasher 4: Thanks to the internet there is an endless scope to time-wasting activities. Youtube leads from one to another, and my recent favourite has to be this.

But aside from Pavarotti's freaky eyebrows I have been somewhat consumed by the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography which is a dream come true for Wikipedia users like me who are frustrated by the gaps in knowledge in their biographies. Today's Biography of the Day was none other than Tom Kilburn – not the TK of TGK Graphic but the man who pretty much invented the computer. As Tom G Kilburn puts it, he's the reason TK's beautiful bearded face will never appear on Google image search.

What you really want to be doing on the internet is watching the film used in Adam Curtis' recent art installation project. It is both amazing and a bit of a headfuck thanks to his abilities/perseverance regarding archive footage. Nonetheless he is a genius and pretty much all his stuff is captivating and entertaining.

Any tips on staving off boredom greatly appreciated. As long as I'm not reduced to reading Iain Dale's blog or Philip Schofield's twitter to fill my afternoon with comedy I'll be content.

Hiding behind class divisions prevents us from criticising those who do a disservice to British sport

The role of sports fans is rarely underrated, least of all by the players at the centre of their attention. As an Oscar winner’s speech methodically praises their director, their family, and, last but inevitably not least their adoring supporters, so too post-match interviews are littered with praise for managers, team mates and above all the thousands of faces that fill the stands, roaring along with their heroes’ triumphs and sharing in their heartache. Indeed, their role should not be underrated by anyone; the enthusiasm of a crowd can make the difference between glorious victory and dismal defeat. However, with this influence a new question arises; when does the behaviour of sports fans go too far?

For as the third Ashes test match finished in a draw and the post match analysis drew to a close, it was the behaviour of England’s “Barmy Army” that fell under the spotlight. According to the Guardian, “everything Ricky Ponting did was met with a chorus of boos, Mitchell Johnson was barely given a moment's peace, every Australian wicket was followed by chants of "cheerio" and England fans serenaded their visitors with regular outings of "God Save Your Queen". For many this did mark the point where crowd support had turned nasty and abusive, with former England cricketer Mike Atherton deeming the matter “ridiculous”. Despite this, others have taken the opposing view, claiming that the fans’ have brought a needed enthusiasm to the sport.

At the heart of this divide runs the ongoing dialectic between purists and a more contemporary fan base. That this has been drawn along class boundaries is little surprise. Cricket is traditionally seen as a middle class sport, with test matches carrying a strict all-white dress code, and a history in royalty and grammar school education. I remember a friend once telling me about his trip to the Oval to watch a test match; a Mexican wave was tearing around the stands, but at its arrival at the Pavillion stand, which holds the executive boxes and balconies, it stopped dead. The rest of the crowd booed, until one man stood up resulting in rapturous applause. Compare this to football, a sport identified with a traditionally working class fanbase, in which there is no division in fan etiquette, no apparent elitism on how to behave.

And it is not only cricket in which this has become a talking point. Tennis, another middle-class sport with royal origins, has seen an emergence of more vocal supporters, resulting in “Hen-mania’, ‘Murray mound’ and the thousands who flock to SW19, of all ages and backgrounds, to cheer on the players and indulge in strawberries in cream. As ticket prices dropped in the 90s, tennis began to lose its association of being an upper class folly, and today attracts fans similar to those of the Barmy Army, dressed in Union Jacks, singing and cheering after every shot.

Thus the rift is frequently presented as caused by elitists who resent the increase in younger, louder and more boisterous fans. As a result, anyone with an opinion on the debate finds themselves pushed to one side; either a “po-faced purist” according to Simon Burnet, the Guardian’s sports blog writer, or someone enthusiastic about the expansion of sport away from the priveleged and wealthy.

However, that one must be one of the two is an obvious falsity, and one that does a great disservice to sport in this country. As with most people, I suspect, I resent any attitude or set-up (e.g. ticket prices) that keeps arts, culture and entertainment from those who have less money, and believe that sport can only ever develop if it becomes universal. What this view should not lead me to accepting is that the rude and disruptive behaviour of some fans is tolerable.

For the actions of the Barmy Army, from all reports, is inexcusable. Just as fans can lift their players to great heights, so too can they leave their opponents frustrated and utterly hopeless. To continually boo, mock and taunt players creates a deeply unpleasant game, in which the away side will become distracted and angry, ultimately leaving the pitch with resentment at the fans. Of course, it might be argued that this is only part and parcel of a players’ job, that part of their skill is their mental temperament. This logic seems flawed, and can only go so far (for example to accept that lack of your own strong fan base when playing away will make things more difficult.) For in sport, all considerations are taken to make a game as fair as possible, so that the victory is decided on the player’s merits alone. To expect one side to then face an ongoing onslaught of antagonising behaviour is unfair. It is no use either pointing to the fact that the away side will have the opportunity to do the same when they are the home players, for then fan attendance will no doubt be different; circumstances will be different. Indeed, all Ashes test match will take place in England this year, meaning if Australia lose at the hands of their fans, England will have a victory stained in bad sportsmanship.

Anyone who watched Andy Murray in this year’s Wimbledon will know that these difficulties arose here, too. Constant cheering after every single point won by the British star and chants of his name, even as the opponent made to play their serve, were both unfortunate events at this year’s tournament. Of course, any opponent of a British star is never going to have it easy, and this has to be expected when going into the match. But as they become ever more frustrated and resentful of the crowd, clearly leaning to the point where they are distracted beyond hope of victory, it has to be accepted that the crowd has a responsibility too. While cheering on your own player is all well and good, fans must respect the importance the match has to their opponent too, and should not turn the match from an even contest into a crowd-induced onslaught.

For what this comes down to is fairness. Fans should be free to cheer, shout and scream on their players, urging them to victory; this is something any opponent knows and accepts. However, this can clearly be done in a way that goes from giving the home side an added advantage, to making the game hopelessly unjust. Cheering can turn into hostile booing, name chanting can go from brief interludes in the moments of inaction to badly timed cries that interrupt a player’s momentum, and friendly good will can turn into needless aggression. All of these should be condemned, and hiding behind the mask of class battles will only prevent this; ultimately, British sport will only suffer because of it.