There is always something comical about politicians in their running gear. Boris Johnson gives the impression that he’s been kitted out by a circus clown costumier. There is a whiff of greasepaint and sweat about him. The only surprise is that the beanie he invariably crams onto his head doesn’t include a revolving propellor. Michael Gove, who was probably born wearing an M&S suit, sports knee-length lycra shorts beneath his – what shall we call them? – over-shorts and looks pained, as if he knows in his heart that exercise doesn’t agree with him.
But David Cameron is The Man in Black, freshly shaved and perfectly coiffured, as if on his way to a shoot an ad for Cadbury’s Milk Tray or, more likely, to meet up with George Osborne at Costa Coffee. Those holiday snaps taken of him in his prime-ministerial pomp, looking fleshy and ill-coordinated, are not his favourite mementos. Nor, more to the point, do they represent the “look” likely to be approved by his fashion-conscious wife, Samantha, than whom he is now arguably less famous.
Yesterday morning, the morning after the night before, he emerged from his West London home, bought for £1.1 million cash not long before he called the Brexit referendum, to jog off into what for him is always the sunset, no matter the time of day. Outside, a group of hacks was waiting, including a reporter from the BBC.
“Mr Cameron, Mr Cameron … what do think about the Prime Minister?”
At once, without turning a hair, Cameron moved into statesman mode. He does this with what you would have to say is consummate ease.
“I hope she wins her vote tonight. I’m sure she will. And I hope then that Parliament can come together and find a partnership agreement with the European Union. That’s the way forward.”
Indeed. The image that comes to mind at this stage is that of Gene Hackman, playing the U.S. Senator Kevin Keeley, who when cornered by reporters while climbing out the back window of his home to avoid awkward questions about his bizarre recent behaviour, immediately launches into a campaign speech while offering a Richard Nixon two-handed victory salute.
But perhaps that’s unfair.
“That’s what [Theresa May’s] deal was about last night,” he continued, “and she has my support as she does it.”
It was at this point that he turned to go, only for the BBC man to call after him, “Do you regret calling the referendum?”
How many times must he have been asked this particular question? But if it stung, the former PM gave no sign of it. “I don’t regret calling the referendum. It was a promise I made two years before the 2015 general election. It was included in the manifesto. It was legislated for in Parliament …”
And so on and so on. “Obviously, I regret that we lost the referendum … I regret the difficulties and problems we’ve been having … but I don’t think it’s going to be helped by me giving a running commentary.”
Quite so. And this from a standing start.
Another few seconds of stately waffle and then he was off, moving languidly in an westerly direction, narrowly avoiding an attendant snapper, while behind him his security detail in their black limo prepared to give chase.
And all because the lady loves Milk Tray.
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Iain Martin and the team make sense of the news, providing commentary and analysis on the stories that matter in politics, geopolitics, economics and culture.