It's not every day that the Deputy Prime Minister announces himself to you as
a buffoon. This was just weeks after the 7/7 terrorist attacks and John
Prescott was - supposedly - running the country while Tony Blair was away. I
had written a column headlined “Prezza the buffoon should simply not be left
in charge”, which asked why we indulged him when he was so blisteringly
incompetent.
The next day, my phone rang. “I have the Deputy Prime Minister for you,” said
a female voice. “It's your buffoon here,” came a more familiar male one. He
harangued me for half an hour, saying that what I'd written was “bloody
disgraceful” and that I was just a snob. “I'm crap at syntax,” he conceded
finally. “I don't even know what the word means.” Then he demanded that I
come in and see him.
That turned into the encounter that Prescott referred to on Tuesday in his
Radio 4 On the Ropes interview with John Humphrys. I haven't written about
it before, because I respected Prescott's right to talk to me off the
record. Now that he has brought it up himself, though, I can at last tell
the tale.
Signing in at Admiralty House, I heard a click-clack on the marble floor
behind me. It was Prescott. I turned round to greet him, but he sailed past,
saying gruffly to the security man, “She's with me”. At the lift I caught up
with him, smiled and put out my hand, as you do. He scowled and refused to
shake it.
He took me up to his vast office and let me stew there for 15 minutes until he
came back with a couple of lackeys and a briefing file on me an inch thick.
I knew his people had been asking questions about me. In a voluntary
capacity, I was then vice-chair of a local regeneration programme, North
Fulham NDC, which came under his department. A very senior official had
e-mailed the programme director asking how committed I was, what decisions I
had taken, which projects I had opposed. Prescott was clearly looking for
ammo.
He launched into a tirade. His face reddened, his finger jabbed, he held up
dog-eared pamphlets that he had written in the 1980s which apparently proved
that he had a good brain. He boasted about his achievements in transport and
local government, some of which I disputed. Once he began on regeneration, I
asked whether he had managed to dig any dirt up about me on the NDC. “I
don't know what you're talking about,” he blustered.
“I think you do,” I retorted. “Your officials have been asking questions about
me and you've got a chapter heading there on your briefing pack: ‘Mary Ann
Sieghart's involvement with North Fulham NDC'.”
Luckily it was close enough for me to read upside down. Caught red-handed, he
pretended not to be able to find the right page. More bragging followed,
until he demanded: “So admit it. You were wrong about me.” Given his
emotional state, I thought it wise to be diplomatic. I said I was glad to
have had the chance to hear his side of the story. “Why don't we leave it at
that?” I suggested.
“No,” he said. “I want you to admit that you're wrong.” He was determined to
bully me, and I was determined to resist.
“I'm not prepared to,” I replied. “I'm afraid you haven't persuaded me.”
“Right then,” he shouted. “I want you to justify every single word you wrote.”
“Are you quite sure?” I checked. This was going to be embarrassing. So I took
a deep breath and began. “Well, you punched a voter and you stuck two
fingers up in Downing Street. That shows that you lose your rag too easily -
as evidenced today, in fact.”
“AS EVIDENCED TODAY?” he bellowed, his face by now beetroot, his fists
clenched.
“Yes, I've been talking perfectly calmly while you've been shouting and
jabbing your finger at me. I don't think that's appropriate behaviour in a
Deputy Prime Minister.”
My column had gone on to disparage his performance at Prime Minister's
Questions. “I know PMQs are very hard,” I admitted. “I'd be useless at them.
But then I'm not Deputy Prime Minister and you are.”
The final straw was his inability to string a sentence together. “I've not had
the fine education you had,” was his justification. “You're just a snob.”
“I'm not,” I retorted. “I have no problem with Alan Johnson or John Reid or
David Blunkett. They all come from disadvantaged backgrounds, they didn't go
to private schools and they still manage to articulate what they want to
say. It's nothing to do with snobbery and nothing to do with your
education.” If a man couldn't speak clearly, I said, it was a sign that he
couldn't think clearly either.
That was when he finally lost it. “So what you're saying is I'm too thick to
be Deputy Prime Minister?” he yelled at me.
His two apparatchiks stiffened. “Well, yes, I guess I am,” I said in a small
voice.
On the pavement outside, I found myself shaking. I couldn't believe what I had
just said to Prescott, but nor could I believe how bullyingly he had behaved.
He, meanwhile, raced off to No 10 to see Blair. I later heard that he said,
“I've just had that Mary Ann Sieghart in”, to which Blair replied, “That's
nice”. “No it wasn't,” said Prescott, still furious. “She told me I was too
thick to be Deputy Prime Minister.” Blair did the worst possible thing and
laughed. “Well, she's not the only one who thinks that,” he chuckled.
Oh dear, we're acting just like the French
As Gordon Brown weakens with every day that passes and road hauliers clog the
roads to demand action on fuel tax, I'm beginning to have a sense of déjà
vu. It's not just a return to the 1970s - though stagflation, strikes and a
stumbling Labour Government are oddly reminiscent of the Callaghan regime.
No, I chose my language with care.
We're starting to feel and behave more like the French than the British.
There, farmers and lorry drivers routinely make life hell for everyone else
and the Government routinely backs down in response. Democracy is really
only a shallow veneer, with rule by the mob pushing through the surface from
time to time.
It gives the French an exhilarating rush of power over their politicians; but
it must also make them feel a little insecure. Like a teenager whose
behaviour is so ghastly that his parents give in simply to mollify him, what
they actually need is tougher boundaries.
We used to have more grown-up politics over here. I don't think we do any more.
No one likes us
I now officially worship Sir Terry Wogan. His laconic commentary on the
Eurovision Song Contest had us all in hysterics on Saturday night. The
camper the acts, the trashier the songs, the funnier his send-ups became.
One thing puzzles me, though. We all know that neighbouring countries voted
for each other, which puts us at somewhat of a disadvantage, moored as we
are off the northwestern coast. But aren't these neighbours supposed to hate
each other? How could Serbia vote for Croatia or Bosnia? How could the
Baltic states vote for Russia? We got no votes from France, a neighbour with
deep resentments towards us, though we did win some from Ireland. But hang
on: what's tiny San Marino, our only other supporter, got against us?
Apparently, only three British people live there.
www.maryannsieghart.com
John Prescott was entirely justified in punching that 'voter' who slammed an egg into him at close range and absolutely right to take a car to get his wife to the conference hall with her hairdo in one piece. But he was an absolute disaster as a politician: ' integrated transport' indeed!
H. Aldridge, Canterbury, Kent
What I really object to in the ex new labour gang is their obsessive love of money - made now by selling the inside stories of jobs we paid them to do. Perhaps they should have bought their positions from us.
H. Aldridge, Canterbury, Kent
"How could Serbia vote for Croatia or Bosnia? How could the Baltic states vote for Russia? "
There are large numbers of ethnic Serbs living in Croatia and Bosnia, as there are large numbers of ethnic Russians living in all former Soviet republics. This is not reconciliation - it's politics.
Mick McDonald, Birmingham, UK
Concerning John Prescott, Mary Ann Sieghart states that if a man can't speak clearly he can't think clearly either. Would she apply this reasoning to the BBC's Robert Peston? He certainly lacks fluency, but is still regarded as a very well-informed and incisive commentator on business and finance.
M Thomas, Beaconsfield,
Am I the only one to have a moment of unholy joy at the idea of a politician digging the dirt on a journalist? Power without responsibility is still the prerogative of the harlot.
Malcolm Hornsby, Swadlincote, UK
I don't usually find I have much empathy with Mary Ann Sieghart's writings but well done to her for this article. I have worked, as a non-partisan, alongside these clowns from Westminster and they are your best friend until you say, 'No' or don't view them as political colossi.
A. Theobald, London,
To get from Cunard Steward to Deputy PM working within the Labour Party merely requires you to be a bigger, more foul mouthed bully than the similar foul mouthed, union bullies vying with you for promotion. He is a truly revolting person and his elevation to Deputy PM sullies British politics.
Billy Barnett, HK,
I am writing to my M.P. complaining about the abuse of public resource. Prescott had the right to rant, but to get officials to try and dig up dirt on the journalist is a scandal.
David Land, Edinburgh, UK
To win Eurovision we simply need to outnumber the foreigners. So next year we should enter all 4 home countries, Alderney, Guernsey, Jersey, Sark, Gibralter, the I of M, I of Wight, Faroes, Ascension Island, Radio caroline and anywhere else we can think of.
That'd show the bally foreign johhnies
Mick, Leeds,
Um, that would be 'too thick.'
Chris, Shetland, United Kingdom
Dear Mary, your article about the 'audience' with Prescott had to be read not just as an account about the lack of moral fibre of one particular politician but, as evidence of how the so called elected parlamentaries are more concerned about their public image than their public duties. Bravo !
Jay Mieth, Southampton,
To have progressed from Cunard steward to Deputy PM would have required a lot of sterling qualities , even if they did not include being sufficiently articulate for Seighart's taste. No one is above criticism but I think she is out of order to get into personal abuse.
David Jones, Abingdon, Oxon
interesting, he obviously is a very insecure man, im not sure of his achievements but that is no way to act.....good for you lady!!
C Kroustis, London, UK
There was quite a compelling logic spelled out by Paul Gambacini on the Today programme about the Euro voting. It's more to do with shared culture than liking each other. UK and Ireland share many cultural references (often from the US). So do the former Eastern Bloc countries.
Stu, London,
If there's not a medal, then one has to be created, for this astonishing act of courage. Women are good at this. I remember in a laundrette a thug was bullying a small boy, and while I was calculating if I would have to fight him, a woman calmly told him what he was doing wrong, and he stopped.
Kevin Straw, Leicester,
Prescott's bullying behaviour is absolutely disgraceful and typical of a man who should never have been allowed to achieve high office and excercise power..
Richard Evans, Cheshire,
Mary, I'm a fan of yours but I'm afraid I think I'm a little with Prezza on this one. I think any person who had been lambasted in an article and called a buffon would be lacking in self respect if they just exchanged pleasentries when they met their transgressor. How would you have reacted?
Matthew Blott, Harlow, Essex
If you get enough people in a mob does it then become democracy. If the government had backed down on invading Iraq after the massive nationwide marches, would that have been a victory for democracy or mob rule? I think it depends on your point of view. In France people feel they have some influence
Martin, Bordeaux, France