As a teenager, I was unfortunate enough to have close female friends with the sort of precocious allure that left boys slack-jawed with lust.I was left permanently scarred by an incident on New Year’s Eve 1984 when a tall, dark, handsome youth sidled up to me as the bells tolled midnight and asked in tones of thrilling intensity if I thought my friend Sarah would dance with him. Before I met my husband, I can honestly say I never once experienced a truly enjoyable New Year’s Eve. In 2006 I confidently predict that all we columnists will be saying: is it just me, or is New Year’s Eve [substitute for topic of day] shite? Not obviously shite like Natasha Kaplinsky and tartan mobile phone cases, but slyly and insidiously shite, promising much and delivering virtually nothing. January in Britain is more suited to a season of Ibsen than uproarious partying.I would say New Year’s Eve is crap, but that’s soooo 2005. That night I swear that the wind (chill factor: -20C) whistled through the bricks of my parents-in-laws’ house and into my marrow as I lay fully clothed and shivering beneath two duvets and an electric blanket. Often that desperate individual turns out to be your partner obscured by a miasma of cold sweat and kebab breath.
And when you’ve started the year that vilely, you need a Bloody Mary for breakfast and hair-of-the-dog for lunch, and before you know it your New Year resolutions lie strangled in the cradle. Plus all this “welcome in the new” malarkey happens at the wrong time of year, when optimism, joy and a girl’s ability to wear a string of sequins and call it a frock are hopelessly compromised by blizzards and Siberian winds.
A couple of years ago I was in Scotland for New Year when the weather was so unspeakably bitter that they had to cancel the revels in Edinburgh. Instead, New Year’s Eve is just about the most spiritually and physically toxic date in the calendar. You gorge on crisps, dance the conga to novelty Christmas chart hits and assault your liver with cheap champagne, before passing out and waking to find your nose inches away from a putty-faced stranger. How’s your head? Does this page look like print, or sinister weevils trying to burrow into your brain? It’s a funny thing, really – you would have thought the right way to salute the virginal purity of New Year would be with a day’s fasting, mineral water, votive candles, and a muscular session with the apricot face scrub. He will, we may be sure, remind his Auditors that he has, in the Phrase of the Day, seen off four Tories already, viz., Masters Major, Hague, Duncan Smith and Howard, and that he sees no Reason why he should not dispose likewise of a fifth in due Course.As for Master Cameron, he may arrive at the same Conclusion for the opposite Reason, to the Effect that his Interest may best be serv’d if Mr Blair stays where he is.
But, to speak the truth, it is of the utmost insignificance what Master Cameron concludes; for the Decision on whether to stay or to go will not be made by him but by Master Blair.And so Master Brown may join my Lords Butler, Healey and Heseltine; and there will be much Wailing and Lamentation among the Women-folk of The Guardian Newspaper God Save the Queen
More from Alan Watkins. Of a most elegant Shape, with Haberdashery to match, is Sir Menzies Campbell, another Scotchman, that was once described with truth as the Fastest White Man in the World.But the good Scotch Knight is reluctant to use his great Speed to overtake Master Kennedy; or, rather, to employ an Analogy better suited to the present Occasion, he is like one of the Princes or other noble Persons in Master Shakespeare, his Plays, not knowing where to turn for the best to come about; not least the best for himself. At the same time Master Blair, although not in the strict sense a party man, will take into account the Effect of his Remaining in Employment on Master Cameron, his Prospects; while Master Cameron, for his part, will perform precisely the same Calculation, altho’ from a different Point of View.Such is human Nature that Master Blair will, we may be reasonably confident, come to the sober and unbiased Conclusion that, to make Life as uncomfortable as possible for Master Cameron, his continuation in Office is of the highest importance to the Polity. If this be so, Master Brown may be in waiting till they both of ‘em have long white Beards, as may turn out to be the case, with Master Cameron snug in Downing-street. 1955, when Master Churchill gave way to Master Eden within weeks of the Poll; although whether such a transference would be regarded by Master Brown as a fair Exchange must be Matter for Speculation, to say the least.According to the publick Prints, Blair’s Legacy, so-call’d, is now the supreme Consideration, over-riding all others. And on that Note we may take our Leave of Master Kennedy, Sir Menzies and others of their Faction, and turn our Attention to Matters of greater Concern to the Common-wealth.I mean, of course, Mr Treasurer Gordon Brown, his Future in the Ministry.
Master Blair hath given his solemn Word that he will serve out what in the cant Phrase is called a full Term, which can only mean the whole Period between one Election and the next, viz., a Spell, usually, of four and, sometimes, of five Years, unless there are exceptional Circumstances, e.g., a great Warre, or the loss of a Majority, which need not detain us any farther at this point; but, at the same time, Master Blair hath made a Promise, of an equal degree of Solemnity, that at some Date of his own choosing he will hand the Seals of Office and the Wand of Power to Master Brown.Now ’tis obvious, even to a childish mind, that both Pledges cannot possibly be true: For if Master Blair serves a full Term, he cannot hand over to Master Brown; whereas if he hands over to Master Brown, he cannot serve a full Term.There is, to be sure, one Set of Circumstances which could be held to satisfy both Tests and which would come about if Master Blair surrender’d the Seals a few weeks before the Election, as happen’d anno. Of these others, one Example is Master Charles Kennedy, that is at the head of the Liberal-Democrat Faction, so-call’d, although for how much longer is a matter for Speculation.And yet, the curious Thing is this: For two intire Decades after Hitler’s Warre, the Faction had fewer Members attending the Commons-house than could be counted upon the Fingers of two Hands; whereas under Master Kennedy there are 62 of ‘em, of a great Variety of Shapes and Sizes. and the like, preferring instead to give such Attention as they can spare from their other Amusements to Players, Ballad-singers, &c., &c.But in Westminster-hall the Story is different: For there the intire Question is not what Master Cameron intends to do for himself, but what Effect he is likely to have on other People. It was really the only option he had, but at least he’d had the nous to take it.At yet another party this week, before the red wine took hold, I chatted with bloke friends about Cruise and other improbably infuriating film stars. The magazine poll also mentioned Jennifer Lopez, who famously goes nowhere without two people whose sole job is to tend her eyebrows; Julia Roberts, who annoys all women in the world; Adam Sandler, loathed by everyone over 25; and Jim Carrey, who has yet to make the possibly life-changing discovery that he isn’t funny.We wondered about Tom Hanks, who always gets that look on his face about 30 minutes into a film that says “this should be worth a nomination”; and of course Robert De Niro, especially when (a) he is playing comedy, as in Meet the Fockers, and (b) when he isn’t. It was at this stage of the season, on Boxing Day of 2002, that Milner, at the tender age of 16 years and 357 days, replaced Rooney as the youngest scorer in the history of the rebranded top flight by converting Jason Wilcox’s cross for Leeds United at Sunderland.
Two days later, as if to prove it was no fluky one-off, he cut in from the left and danced past two defenders, including the World Cup-winning Marcel Desailly, before curling a breathtaking right-footed shot into the net Chelsea were shaken Elland Road was stirred It was a moment that declared: “The name’s Milner. Something within me had changed, I had moved on.Then I happened to catch a few moments of A Few Good Men on the telly and realised that, no, I had not moved on at all Tom Cruise had simply improved.
