Derek Hatton, George Galloway, Chris Williamson, Ken Livingstone: these guys may not physically sit together in public life, but I definitely think of them as “a grouping”. In fact, it is perfectly possible that over time they could be joined by “like-minded individuals” from the right. Galloway got on like a house on fire with Nigel Farage during the referendum. Unfortunately, both of them seem to have been pulled from the inferno unscathed.
Yup, you can totally picture their independent minds dovetailing with disaffected #MeToo defendants or even defectors from the daytime schedules, such as Noel Edmonds. If things were different, they’d hang out more with their brother-from-another-mother Julian Assange. Like I said, it’s a mood; it’s a feeling. They don’t have to share every view. Most of them will have an objection to paying the licence fee, say, while only some of them will get slightly aroused when they think about Marine A. Quite a lot of them, actually. And not just the obvious ones.
Anyway, Monday kicked off with seven Labour MPs quitting the party to form the Independent Group – followed by another on Tuesday, three Tories on Wednesday, and Ian Austin on Friday (though he’s going it alone). So this week was always going to summon these bros-in-arms. It’s as if Gotham City’s Commissioner Gordon had sent up the Twatsignal.
Deciding that the news meant Labour had finally done enough to warrant him rejoining the party, Galloway began doing the broadcast rounds in his black fedora. Not sure how up you are on your Galloway iconography, but the hat symbolises his troubadour spirit, and the fact he’s definitely going to act like a penis on the news. Wherever he lays his hat, that’s the place he’s going to act like a penis.
On Wednesday, the hat was on Sky News, where its wearer judged that accusations of antisemitism in Labour are “pure Goebellian propaganda”. Mmmm. I don’t want to call bullshit on someone who wears his learning quite as heavily as Galloway, but falsely accusing people of antisemitism was arguably not one of the primary character notes of Joseph Goebbels. A notorious liar, yes. But picture the scene at the Berlin Sportpalast in 1943, when Goebbels made his most famous speech. Had Goebbels used the occasion to accuse anyone in the vicinity of antisemitism – falsely, I expect – I just don’t reckon that many Germans would have gone “yeah, classic Goebbels” or “man, that is such a totally Goebbels thing to do”.
Given her effective constructive dismissal from the Labour party, then, some will have dared to dream when Luciana Berger stood up to launch the new grouping. Others will have regarded fellow splitter Angela Smith’s subsequent “funny tinge” comment as a reminder that it is best not to have dreams during this era of British politics, because they will get clubbed to death mere seconds after you’ve given birth to them.
But many, many more will be able to enjoy this moment purely for the hilarious losing-of-the-shit it has inspired in hardcore Jeremy Corbyn tribalists. If this is what passes for playing it cool … I would recommend an intravenous course of Humphrey Bogart movies. Or some Katharine Hepburn. Just anyone, really, whose reaction to people doing what you’ve been screaming at them to do for three years wouldn’t have been to wet their pants in public while shrieking, “LOL I AM SO RELAXED LOL.”
On the Tory side, similarly, who couldn’t love the detail that classy David Cameron sent identical “don’t go” texts to each of those splitters on the eve of their departure? Like so many readers, I am dying more every day for Cameron’s forthcoming book, believed to be a taut psychological thriller about a true-crime author who gradually begins to suspect himself of the grotesque acts he’s writing about.
As for Corbyn, it’s good to see how fast the Labour leader can act when he genuinely minds about something. When it comes to all the Jew-hatred sloshing around, he’s been the friendly neighbourhood allotment holder who won’t be rushed. But when he’s really angry about a thing, like the defection of the watsisnames, he goes full Magneto. Except Magneto was Jewish, so … not Magneto.
In terms of statesmanlike outreach, Corbyn’s pitch was a video in which he came off as peevish and irritated. The Labour leader’s retro glasses make him look like the guy in the corner at Nasa who’s going to say that the rescue mission can’t be done, because he’s got some charts that say it’s impossible. At that point, you want to get behind the guy who sweeps all the charts off the table, and says, “Damn the damn charts dammit – we are bringing Tom Hanks home.” I would then vote for Tom Hanks.
Alas, it must be said the shortage of Tom Hanks types in British politics is now somewhat acute. Instead of leading men or women, all we seem to have is fighty extras. “I’m afraid I’ll fight from within until I’m the last one standing,” announced Johnny Mercer. (Just like he did in ’Nam.) Or perhaps you prefer Steven Woolfe, most famous for being laid out in Strasbourg, allegedly after a scrap with one of his fellow Ukip MEPs. Woolfe wants to stand against Tory defector Anna Soubry in Broxtowe – which is exactly where Corbyn himself has decided to head for a rally this Saturday. As Woolfe put it: “The independence of this country now demands the most muscular force to protect it.” Ooh! Diet Coke break, girls!
If Brexit has long had the flavour of a fight in a pub car park, I guess this is what tipping-out time looks like. And yet, are all these self-styled hardmen the answer? As we head into Britain’s latest crunch week, it feels old hat, if you will, to put out yet another APB for something better. But here we are again, and here goes … Hanks-types: wanted. Leading men and women: wanted. Heroes: WANTED.