Sunday, July 03, 2005

With Friends Like These...

Two declare for David C this morning.

Ollie Letwin says Cameron is 'someone who believes in free markets, a stronger society, a more civilised Britain and a more civilised politics'.

Yes. Well, Ollie...the thing is we all believe in that, but the question is how we deliver it. Not all of us agree that merely aping Blair is the way to go.

Actually, I like Ollie. It's just that he shouldn't be in the messy compromised business of politics. He's like an innocent wandering around a war zone- you don't want to stand too close to him in case something goes off bang (his latest landmine is the CAP- see here).

Then there's...gasp...I'm not sure I can do, big breathes...India Knight.

Pass me that oxygen mask...under the headline 'At last, a fanciable Tory', India witters on in her usual vacuous pampered way about how Little David 'actually seems like a person you might have a conversation with. That he looks, you know, nice. That the things he says are humane and intelligent and make sense.'

Proclaiming she has never voted Tory in her life, she goes on to contrast DC with Our Man, who 'makes rather an enormous deal of having been raised on a council estate'.

Well, I don't imagine India was raised on a council estate, and I don't imagine she sends her kids to state schools, and I don't imagine she uses the NHS, and she once wrote a book called The Shops, summarised by one reviewer thus:

'India Knight lives in a world where godparents start laying down wines at Berry Bros. for a christening present, and suggests you buy boys of six-to-eight dinosaur eggs that start “at a couple of hundred quid.” Her book’s the most shameless piece of showing off that I’ve ever witnessed. And the really, really cringeworthy bits are when she occasionally remembers poor people might be reading and says, of course, if you can’t afford perfume for Les Senteurs for your mum’s birthday, you can draw her up a voucher to say that you’ll paint her nails. Or better yet, when she suggests that to reach the “true Heaven” of a £335 goose feather duvet, you could: “get everyone you know to donate a fiver at your next birthday.”

Her protestations that she isn’t a “repulsive capitalist monster, urged on by greed and the need to acquire and amass” ring a little hollow after a while, especially as every time she’s defending the thrill of shopping she mentions, say, flowers, hair bobbles and lollipops, whereas the rest of the time she’s insisting that the only straightening irons worth buying cost £88, and that if you “can’t be arsed to cook but shun the microwave” you want to order “thyme-rich” beef stew and “pistachio meringues that look like works of art” from The Grocer on Elgin. Oh, not an oven-chip sandwich then?'

She should live in Notting Hill.

Update: Make that three declarations for DC- Suzanne Moore in the Mail On Sunday (not available without a sub, but see Tory Leadership Blog)


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