Forget Brexit, people. We’ve got to get Big Ben sorted

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/aug/19/brexit-eu-big-ben-theresa-may

Version 5 of 6.

“I think it’s mad. I’d forgotten, of course – I’ve been out of government for a lot of years – I’d forgotten how long it takes to get approvals for this and approvals for that. There’s a sort of rude phrase which I will shorten to ‘just get on with it’ … Just get on, just do it, don’t faff.” Pop quiz: is David Davis talking about his spectacularly unprepared Brexit negotiating approach, or is he talking about a big bell?

Yup, it’s the big bell. News that Big Ben may be silenced for a few years during renovation works on the Houses of Parliament shocked Westminster this week, causing a welter of politicians to ignore the clock that IS ticking in favour of wetting their pants about one that might stop. If sovereignty is serving as your own punchline, we’ve already aced Brexit. If not, we must accept that creating auto-satirical metaphors could soon be our last great manufacturing industry.

As you may know, Theresa May’s former chief of staff Nick Timothy has a new Telegraph column entitled Ways to Win (leave it – it’s not worth it), and he recently opened the very first one by declaring: “The prime minister likes to use her walking holidays as a time to think things through. When she returned from Wales, in April, she rang me to say she had decided to hold the general election. By the time she returns from Switzerland, next week, she will be ready to deal with its aftermath.”

To be honest, I took this as Nick’s jokey reminder that the Tories had now wasted four and a half months on this shit, when the country could least afford the time. But I now accept it’s just possible he meant it seriously: that we should genuinely watch May when she came back, because she would reveal the sense of purpose and urgency the country badly needed.

And so to May’s return to work this week, and the very first subject upon which the prime minister chose to focus. “It can’t be right,” she judged. “Of course we want to ensure people’s safety at work, but it can’t be right for Big Ben to be silent for four years.”

Nick! NIIIIIIIICK! She’s back off her holibobs, but she’s on about a bell. Of course we want to ensure the government’s safety at work. But if it would crystallise the prime minister’s thinking about the dysfunctional Brexit process she’s presiding over while the clock ticks down, then perhaps the cabinet room could be relocated to within six feet of the bell, in order that they be provided with a frequent reminder of the need to acquire a clue, like, months ago.

But there was more. Keen to reassure people that the matter was in hand, May continued: “I hope that the speaker, as the chairman of the House of Commons commission, will look into this urgently, so that we can ensure that we continue to hear Big Ben through those four years.”

“Urgently.” Like Davis, May is very preoccupied with this notion that time is of the essence. And in their desire to enable this meta-displacement activity, the Commons authorities have indeed only gone and announced a review of the Big Ben decision. Apparently a lot of MPs demanded it. I can’t help but be reminded me of a moment in David Rees’s brilliant post-9/11 comic strip Get Your War On, where two office workers are discussing the US Congress’s decision to rename french fries in the wake of France’s refusal to support America’s stance on Iraq. “Freedom fries???” one demands. “OK, I have a question – is the War on Terrorism over? Because I sure as hell want to know that ALL THE TERRORISTS IN THE WORLD HAVE BEEN CAPTURED before legislators actually take the time to rename their GODDAMN CAFETERIA FOOD!”

I would go slightly further. I will now assume that any MP calling for the Big Ben review, or participating in it, or pretending to give a quarter of a toss about its outcome is involved in highly illicit sexual or financial activity, and is helping journalists to fan this story in the mistaken belief that the rightwing press will “go easy” on them when it comes to light. No other explanation is reasonable.

As an indication that our politicians have our backs covered at this moment of national destiny, the Big Ben debate makes the “bring back the royal yacht” idea look like the Marshall plan. It’s the budget version of the going-to-war-with-Spain idea floated back in April. If Big Ben does fall silent, they should stop the clock hands at precisely midnight, allowing it to serve as post-imperial Britain’s completed version of the Doomsday Clock. That way, even a stopped clock will tell the right time all day. It will show that time really is up for any pretensions toward relevance or substance.

Because the other horror-show element of May’s return to the limelight was her following it up with a failure to criticise Donald Trump’s reaction to Charlottesville, in which the US president had suggested there were some “very fine” people on both sides. I suppose it’s a stall of sorts: quick out of the traps on horological maintenance, slow on defenders of white supremacists. But come on, prime minister: the one thing we’ve been dining out on for the past 70 years is that we had the right idea about Nazis.

I suppose it’s a stall of sorts: quick out of the traps on horological upkeep, slow on defenders of white supremacists

Perhaps it’s no surprise. May is increasingly incapable of rising to any occasion. Even when she contrives to respond with class, she is hampered by a failure to have stayed classy on previous outings. Consider her response to news of the Barcelona terror attacks, where she explained: “The UK stands with Spain against terror.” And yet, in the letter she wrote to trigger article 50, she issued a crass and amoral threat about what leaving without a deal would mean for the safety of people in the EU we left behind: “In security terms a failure to reach agreement would mean our cooperation in the fight against crime and terrorism would be weakened.”

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Someone in government needs to get the message – but how? In olden times, around the turn of the millennium, people used to project things on to Big Ben. FHM magazine’s naked rear view of Gail Porter was the famous one, but perhaps some text might work better now. I’m fairly easy on the form of words – we’re not trying to avoid offending white supremacists, after all – but would suggest something along the lines of: “IN THE NAME OF ALL OUR FUTURES, CAN YOU PLEASE GET IT TOGETHER – NO ONE CARES ABOUT THE EFFING CLOCK.”