Party Conference Diary - Sept 2024
The 3 Michaels, Fear and Loathing in Liverpool and Alcoholism Now
The three Michaels
Politico Glastonbury passed like a dream this year. One moment, I am on the train to Labour Party conference, reading Micahel Gove’s biography of Portillo from the 1980s, which was given to me by Michael Brown. The next I am back home typing this, nursing a Conference flu I picked from the Tories.
All of the three above Michaels are Tories I have a soft spot for.
Portillo, because he reminds me of my favourite men in my family, who are now dead. Galant, elegant, with old-world charm and spartan grace. On top of that, he is half Spanish but still quintessentially English.
I wasn’t around, or alive even, when he was most active in politics and at his most right-wing. I met him year, as a guest on his show to spread my Labour Party propaganda. Since losing his seat the first time in ‘97, I understand that he has been on a journey of softening his public image with travel documentaries, culture shows and tailored suits in primary colours. It is likely what has allowed him to occupy ‘national treasure’ status comfortably.
Brown because he is a delightful gay Tory (the first one to get outed as such in the UK) who is perfectly comfortable in his skin, owns up to his vices, and displays a zest for life that many of his contemporaries have long lost.
Gove because I am obsessed with hard-working boys from humble/middle-class backgrounds who are eloquent, intelligent and disgustingly, heart-wrenchingly, I-will-drown-that-rabbit-with-my-bare-hands ambitious. Gove was an adopted orphan raised in Scotland by a lower-middle-class family. He wrote this biography at the age of 27 (!) while working as a journalist for the BBC. A former adviser to Boris told me Gove decided to knife him in the back when he found out that Boris was playing golf on the day of the deadline for the leadership nominations. The unseriousness incensed him. I love a man with a pulse.
I am reading Portillo’s biography and imagining a young Gove waking up at 5:00 am before his BBC shift to transcribe his taped interviews with Portillo’s contemporaries. How did people even do research before the internet era? The amount of detail in this book is astonishing, and the way Gove weaves contextual elements about Franco’s Spain, Cambridge Peterhouse intellectuals (my god they make our modern fascists sound tame), Thatcherites, ‘wets’, along with insights into Portillo’s personality, obsession with loyalty, love for performance, etc.
On the train to Liverpool for the Labour Party conference, I read about the night Thatcher was convinced to resign as Prime Minister. Portillo visited her with other Thatcher loyalists and she told him she was being advised she did not have enough allies left. Portillo, sincere, warm, and enraged at the hurt bestowed on his iron maiden, shot back, ‘They are wrong; there are troops ready to fight for you if only you would lead them’. It would be funny if one of my comrades from the train realised I was crying and asked what got me down, and I said, ‘ Thatcher’s resignation.
Alas, I care little about the old bird. What I always found utterly irresistible is English people getting emotional. Proof they are made from the same cloth as me, after all. They are such hard-to-reach onions most of the time. I despised Theresa May for her entire Premiership, but my ear pricked when I heard her voice crack during her resignation speech. Similarly with the 3 Michaels, Portillo’s grandness, Gove’s impulsiveness, and Brown’s flamboyancy are all characteristics I find that much more intriguing given they are British Tories.