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Feature: Purveyors of bread and circuses by appointment

Published: 25 November, 2010
by ILLTYD HARRINGTON 

IT was a display of cruelty seldom see in London since the end of bear-baiting. I stood before the Greater London Council group and suggested it would  be to our political advantage if our leader Ken Livingstone accepted the invitation to the nuptials of Charles and Diana in St Paul’s Cathedral.

Of course I was howled down; we refused and our enemies were delighted. I knew that working-class London loved the chance of a touch of Ruritania and men dressed up like characters in the Prisoner of Zenda.

In my old age, I smile at those would-be revolutionaries. Two since arrived in the House of Lords and another, then a ferocious republican, meekly received his OBE from the anointed hands of Her Majesty.

The Royal relationship with London has not always been a syrup of figs. A mob threatened to storm Westminster Abbey in 1821 when Queen Caroline was banned from her husband George IV’s coronation. And at Diana’s funeral, there was a ripple of discontent made plain in the applause that swept into that holy place.

We have not always been so reverent and the cartoons are outrageous. But sycophancy lives on. David Cameron rushed from the Cabinet meeting and announced the news of the engagement between Prince William and Kate Middleton to an indifferent world as his Cabinet busied itself cutting local government services dealing with children who care for invalided adults.

Now a quick confes­sion. At the bidding of prime minister Harold Wilson I was party to kick-starting the organ­isation of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee in 1977. So I plead guilty to organising bread and circuses. Some time later I was invited to a private lunch at Buckingham Palace. The Queen indicated that she wanted to chat to me. We did at some length and some­how or other I got round to doing my imperson­ation of a Sussex hen nervously eyeing a rav­enous eagle in the next cage – separated only by some very broken mesh. She laughed heartily, then her face froze and she said: “I have to go to a funeral.” 

Rome fell not because of gay rights or unwatch­able television. They just ran out of Christians to toss to the lions twice a week in the Coliseum.

An encounter with Princess Margaret when I was invited to sit by her side on the sofa caused a sudden rise in temperature. Her views of immigration could politely be described as provocative. I disagreed with her and invited her to come to my school in Bethnal Green where she was enchanted by a group of Bangladeshi girlsā€ˆand a computer genius aged 16 who could barely speak English. Beneath her veneer was a sharp mind and a vulgar sense of humour hated by the establishment. 

Prior to the demise of the Inner London Educa­t­ion Authority I accepted the Queen Mother’s invitation to tea. We talked a lot about politics. She said with such authority when I asked her what her opinions were: “I believe in fair-minded Tory government and strong Labour opposition.” And then: “If they’d only let me speak out on certain  issues.” She was certainly a Tory who did not believe in selling the family silver.

Before I left, she said: “Where is the photog­rapher?” I said that the policeman wouldn’t let him in. “Go and get him,” she said. I introduced him: “This is Frank he is a member of the Workers’ Revolutionary Party pledged to overthrow the monarchy.” She smiled and said “Oh my dear, I think you’re going to have to wait a very long time.”

I was part of a group in south London when she paid a visit. It was a hot day and she told me she was very thirsty and suggested we nip into a local Young’s pub. She entered like any granny who was a regular and gladly pulled a pint of Young’s Special and drank it. Now that’s style. 

Illtyd Harrington is a former deputy leader of the GLC 

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