Labour in disarray over mislaid soundbite (Pub-friendly) [The Rockall Times]

There was panic in Millbank over the weekend after one of New Labour's most coveted soundbites, worth at least 50 seats to the party in each of the past two elections, went missing. The disappearance came to light at a CBI dinner on Friday evening during a celebratory speech by guest of honour Chancellor Gordon Brown on the subject of Labour's economic record over the past eight years and the even brighter future that lay ahead.

"The very first thing I promised when I took control in 1997, and from which I have never wavered," the Chancellor began, "was... "

His mouth hung open but nothing came out. The assembled business moguls and their wives leaned forward, eager to hear once more those famous words which had peppered the Chancellor's speeches during the early years of his phenomenally successful stint at the helm of the world's fifth largest economy — the fundamental insight upon which an unprecedented eight years of prudent prosperity was grounded.

Gordon Brown: Clearley rattled Gradually it dawned on them that Mr Brown was in trouble. Looking wildly about him for a rescuing prompt which never came, turning out his pockets and finding nothing, the Chancellor mumbled some incoherent inanity and pressed on, clearly rattled and failing to recapture the attention of his audience in what turned out to be an untypically ragged performance. The high-profile event fizzled out disappointingly, with some of Mr Brown's greatest fans shaking their heads in some dismay, wondering what on earth could have happened to that deeply reassuring all-purpose prescription of yesteryear: "No more boom and bust."

Enraged Party officials were instantly on the case, launching a full-scale inquiry into who the bloody hell had mislaid the irreplaceable slogan and made the Chancellor look like a complete prat. The mystery was only solved late on Sunday when records turned up revealing that the resonant insight in question had recently been sold on to a third party in a perfectly legitimate constitutional transaction. The news brought little comfort to red-faced Millbank officials, who were forced to admit that the Chancellor's interest in the soundbite had "lapsed" over recent years, opening the door for his astute Liberal Democrat counterpart Vincent Cable to nip in and snap it up for a token fee.

Under the "first use and every six months thereafter" principle governing the ownership and deployment of verbal gems for political gain, the registered owner of a soundbite is under an obligation to give it an airing at least twice a year in a broadcast or widely reported speech. Failure to do so and the turn of phrase reverts to the public domain, with politicians of any party once again able to claim "first use" and make it their own, full rights being formally transferred upon payment of a nominal sum to the previous owner.

Labour press officer John Baloney denied that the weekend's inquiry into the loss had been "a cynically orchestrated public relations exercise designed to unearth a convenient scapegoat in order to spare the Chancellor's blushes". He vehemently repudiated the suggestion that "Gordon basically took his eye off the ball. His more blasé attitude these days to the perils of boom and bust is all very well, but it's ended up with the party surrendering one of its most persuasive platitudes far too cheaply."

According to Mr Baloney it most assuredly wasn't "entirely down to Gordon's negligence that a vital piece of verbal armoury in the political battlefield was rusting away on the shelf for so long, but all credit to Vince for spotting the opportunity and grasping it with both hands." And if anyone thought that the mishap was "a black mark against the Chancellor which has made him look a bit sloppy and perhaps irreversibly damaged his reputation as the safest man to be in charge of the economy", then they were simply wrong.

It was vintage Baloney, just what we've come to expect from the Millbank spinmeister, but it can't disguise the fact that out in the country many voters now see the Chancellor as shop-soiled goods and wily old bird Vincent Cable as the new champion of prudence, whom they could happily trust to carry on Mr Brown's previous good work at the Treasury. The new owner of the soundbite was in terrific form at a rally in his own constituency of Twickenham, fairly relishing the feel of the words in his mouth and causing quite a stir when he gave them a surprising new twist.

"Let's have no return to the boom and bust politics of the previous two centuries," he proclaimed, rekindling memories of an uncertain, destabilising period which saw the Liberal Party rise to supremacy in the mid eighteen-hundreds only to disintegrate into near oblivion by the 1960s. "Rest assured, there will be no boom and bust on my watch," he promised the Liberal faithful.

A bold claim, and one which without his audacious capture of the all-important soundbite from Labour he could never have made. But the proof of the pudding is in the eating. Can he really hold back the political boom that could see a doubling in the party's representation in parliament after May 5th but which contains within it the seeds of a terrible subsequent decline? What does the new maestro of macro-economics have up his sleeve to compete with the current Chancellor's impressive record and convince the sceptics he can pull it off? The Rockall Times accompanied Mr Cable on one of his famous walkabouts in a key London marginal to find out.

"It's quite simple really," he tells us with disarming candour as we set off from the constituency headquarters on the High Street. "It's all down to my Calculator for Local Income Tax. That's what's reaping the benefit on the doorstep. Oh yes, I'm getting a huge reaction to my CLIT."

We turn into the first residential street, where up ahead a bright orange diamond atop a post proclaims imminent victory for the popular Liberal Democrat candidate.

"Aha, just what we're looking for," he exclaims, rubbing his hands with glee. He moves swiftly into action. We witness a slick exchange.

(Scene 1. On the Doorstep)

CABLE: Good morning, sir. Can we count on your support on 5 May?

VOTER: (late twenties, in dressing gown as it's still early on Saturday after a hard week's work): Too bloody right you can. No more illegal wars. No more council tax.

CABLE: (beaming - this is going just according to plan): You'd like us to axe the tax then?

VOTER: Too bloody right I would. The three of us are paying more than a thousand quid between us! How will I ever save up to buy a place of my own?

CABLE: Would you like to play with my CLIT? I imagine you're online here, young single people like you. Did you know you can go to www.axethetax.org.uk and see just what it'll mean to you personally when we sweep away the insidious council tax and replace it with the much fairer tax on your income? Why not give it a go?

VOTER: All right, I'll play with anything.

(Scene 2. The sitting room. All three house sharers gather around the screen with Mr Cable. Voter 1 at the keyboard.)

VOTER 1: Combined household income sixty-eight one hundred, three of us, current council tax one one two five. Okay, done that.

CABLE: Now press my CLIT.

VOTER: Right! Let's see what you can do for us... two thou- but... but... it's unbelievable!

CABLE: (beaming all over his face): Isn't it just! Many pensioners and poor people will benefit. Without internet access they won't have your opportunity to see for themselves, of course.

SECOND VOTER: It's absolutely staggering!

THIRD VOTER: It's incredible — I can't believe it!

CABLE: No, really, you're too kind.

But those are just some of the plaudits Mr Cable's CLIT has been receiving in demonstrations to core supporters up and down the country. They're absolutely lapping it up. We quickly leave, but instead of going in at the neighbour's garden gate the audacious fiscal innovator crouches down on the pavement and signals us to do the same. We peer over the low garden wall towards the front door of the house we have just visited.

"This is the best bit coming up," he says with keen anticipation. Sure enough, moments later the young resident emerges circumspectly, looking this way and that. Perceiving the coast to be clear, he takes a step back, then launches himself feet-first in a spectacular karate kick aimed at the post supporting the election poster, snapping it resoundingly in two.

The wise old bald-headed bird rises to his feet in satisfaction. "A few more reactions like that and this seat will be safe," he explains, looking up the road for the next fluorescent orange diamond-shaped target.

Senior party grandees, and not least Mr Kennedy himself, will be mightily relieved at the quietly effective way in which their Treasury spokesman has gone about his business. Up until a few weeks ago there was rising panic over the dreaded "bounce" that might propel the party to dizzying heights of 100 seats or more, only to fling it back into the abyss in a future election. Ever since Mr Cable unveiled his CLIT that alarming prospect has steadily receded. Thanks to his ingenious invention and tireless commitment to stamping out the first signs of any boom that would inevitably lead to bust the dangers of a seismic shift in the balance of power have been avoided and Britain's political landscape is guaranteed to look virtually the same on the morning of 6 May as it does today.

Labour in disarray over mislaid soundbite

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