Market Forces- A Political Offer

I suppose politics has always played a major role in my life, one way or another.
It's been a curious route that brought me to the political views I now hold.

During my early teens, my political opinions were simple. I liked the colour blue, and if there's one thing I knew, it was that Britain was a dire drab country in the seventies and now it was a land of showhomes.

Labour might have a lot of good sounding ideals, but when it came to running countries, it didn't work.
So the simple truth was, the Tories might not SEEM caring, sharing types, but they ran the country better.
And then along came Blair.

Well, I never liked him. At sixteen, I was convinced the man was the sleaziest, most dishonest, slimy con artist the country had ever seen.
And if he got in, he'd ruin it.

An I also figured that after ten years of Tony ruining the country, there would be a Tory landslide...

And I'd be exactly the right age to be a PPC.

Now, I suppose my views changed a lot during my years within the party. Up till the '97 election, I was all for privatising anything that could be privatised and leaving the EU. And that, really, was about it.

But University opens your mind. The '97 defeat opens your mind. The 18 year old youth who collared Peter Lilley at Bournemouth Railway station in '96 and told him he should stand for leader once Major had lost the election was starting to vastly alter their outlook.

But my real hero in those days, was of course, the one I still have a soft spot for. For many years he was my real hero, and in some ways, of course, his journey and mine have things in common.

Michael Portillo.

I was Vice-Chairman of the party at uni- hardly a great achievement given that the Labour party outnumbered us ten to one- and was even Chairman for a term or so until I found that spending all day in bed with Joanna was more interesting and the urgency of student union elections rather less pressing than a far off general election.

So I kind of became a dormant member of the party. I never quite dropped out, but frankly, I thought they were now unelectable, and unless something changed, I wasn't going to waste my time.

The return of Portillo to the fray woke me up again.

Because all the things he was now saying, were co-inciding with what I was now thinking.
If the Tory party really could shed that Old-school patrician image and genuinely become a centre-right party based on meritocracy, the comprehensive system and free from the old class/gender issues, free from back to basics and all that conservative with a small c stuff, I was back on board.

Roundabout this time, I was starting to try free myself from the concept of left-right politics and preferred to describe myself as a 'radical progressive' believing in small government.



And so I was back doorknocking, suit pristine, curls artfully done, blue rosette prominent.
And the party loved me. Of course they did. There still weren't many young people in the party then, and most of those fitted the 'Tory' boy image. I was exactly the image they wanted to show. A product of the comprehensive system, Thatcher's child from the classless meritocracy, flings out his hand to grasp your own and says 'Sorry to trouble you, I'm canvassing on behalf of X, the Conservative candidate, and I was hoping we might be able to count on your vote?' (Angelic smile, flutter of eyelashes).

I was good. A good doorstep campaigner. And though I rarely said overmuch at meetings on politics itself, I used to have a fair bit to say on tactics and groups we should be targeting.

But it should not be forgotten, these were also the days when my double life reached its heights.

This was right after Claire's abortion. I worked hard, played hard. I hardly ever went home.
I was using either Cocaine or Ecstasy most days, I was out clubbing every weekend, I have no idea even the names of half the girls I got acquainted with in toilet cubicles, I was completely out of control.

The irony was, that at this point I did ALMOST allow my name to go forward to stand for the council. But I decided to wait till the next year. Till my career was more secure.
Good job really, or had I won, there would have been a by-election...

A friend of mine actually stood that year- for Labour in Wolverhampton. I thought it was quite ironic. Ironic, because I had heard him say that he liked Labour because it had no 'isms'. He actually hated socialism. And the EU.

I actually pointed out that he disagreed with Old Labour on pretty much everything. In fact, he agreed with Blair on everything except the EU, which he wanted to leave, so didn't that actually make him a Tory?
I pointed out that on pretty much every social issue either of us could think of, I was completely opposed to the line my party took, and in fact, except on the issue of economic management, really, I had no place in the party I was a member of.

But he didn't want to be in a party of losers, and I didn't want to be in a party of sycophants.

They were funny times, a time of riding on the edge. The two lives I lived couldn't be further apart.

But the real point of this story, is a day those worlds collided and stared into eachother's eyes. And the pretence they were that far apart disappeared for an instant.

It was a Saturday afternoon.
I walked into the Star.
It was packed, the football was on.

I put two full bags of CDs onto the counter- I'd just spent £200 in HMV.
I probably looked a state. Hair, that looks like it does when sweat, spray and gel merge, face white and covered in dry perspiration, tight black t-shirt, tight black jeans.
Those were kind of the days I look back to, in terms of physical appearance. My early twenties were good years. Old enough for a slight rugged edge to set off the boyish ambiance, but not yet old enough to spoil it, as it has now.

And I was full of myself. I was someone who'd never really lost. Had knockbacks yes, but still thinks they're God's gift.

Anyway, I recognised him. God knows what he was doing in the Star- as spit and sawdust a workingmen's pub as you can get, but there he was, Treasurer of the branch Conservative party, tweed jacket and all, bemusing the punters with his drunken ramblings.

Anyway, I guessed it was polite not to see him. Pragmatic too. I hardly look the image I want the rest of the committee members to have of me.

Until he comes over 'I'm sure I know you from somewhere.'
I smiled 'You do, we meet at least once a month.'

He tilted his head back and went 'No! xxx? You look so different!'

I smiled 'Yes. Just got back from clubbing. This is where I come to spend my Saturday afternoons.'
He laughed 'Dirty stopout! Ooh, I shall have to tell Janet, you know Janet? (Not actually her name, she was the branch secretary, redhead, fifty odd but looked a LOT younger, slim, yes I would have done). Between you and me, she has a little thing about you!'
'Really?' I smiled. Useful information. Maybe a chance to mix business and pleasure.



'Ooh, yes!' He went on. 'Very much so! But don't let on I told you.'

Anyway, he bought me a drink and we got to talking. He was one of those who really did say way too much when drunk. Like the fact he was gay. Not that this came as a shock. That he trawled pubs like this looking for action because in these circles no one knew who I was. I told him he needn't worry- after all, I was in there myself recovering from an Ecstasy session.

And then came the offer 'You know, you could earn good money, you know, as a sideline. It's up to you. I have a friend. And he has a lot of money, I mean a lot. He'd pay good money for an afternoon in the Marriot with you.'

I swilled my pint 'Interesting. What are we talking, when we say good money?'

He looked me up and down 'You're just his type. He'd LOVE you. If you stayed the weekend, you could get two grand out of it. It's up to you. I can pass your number on, if you're interested.'

Do you know what?
I thought about it.

I smiled and ordered another pint.
'I'm not sure it's my thing. No offence, but I'm not sure about it. Thinks for the suggestion though. If times change, I'll let you know.'

And that was it. It was never alluded to again.

It's a funny thing you know. With most things, I've always at least tried it once. But I've never actually had a homosexual experience. Not once. And bearing in mind I've had numerous offers on that front, you'd have thought my natural curiosity would have got the better of me. If asked about my sexuality I tend to say that to date I've found numerous women who have taken my fancy, but as yet, no men. And that's how I prefer to describe it- I can't be done with the need to define myself as gay or straight.

But increasingly, there are times when I wonder if I shouldn't have tried it at some point. I mean, I doubt that I would suddenly have become a fully fledged Graham Norton, I don't buy that argument that people are lured over to the dark side by being exposed to it. I think it obvious that even if I had tried it, I would still, given the choice have remained an adherent of the whole having sex with women thing, but maybe the whole occasional sex with men thing could have become a novelty interest. Or maybe I really wouldn't have enjoyed it.

I guess I'll never know now, because in that sense, I'm probably too set in my ways to experiment with that sort of thing. So I guess it is something I regret not having tried. Because it's an experience I'll die not having had- and I hate there being too many of those.

And this, this really was the one time when I think- Two Grand! For Christ's sake, kid, you should have done it!
Two Grand!

Even if you didn't enjoy it, it probably wouldn't have been that bad. Certainly worth lying back and thinking of England for!

Two Grand.
To sleep with another man for the weekend.

And I turned it down.

Yes, I'm pretty sure I regret that.