How Hard Can It Be_ - Jeremy Clarkson [67]
On the last night we had a party. A big one. And I decided to make it through to the dawn. But I had three shows to do the next day and a long flight home in the evening. And I was pretty tired, so at two I called it a day.
And therein lies the problem. When you are forty-eight you just don’t have the stamina to push the outside of the envelope. And your moral compass is sufficiently well developed to keep you, and your car, out of the hotel swimming pool.
Make no mistake, I loved every minute of the whole exercise – but I would have loved it so much more if I’d been eighteen. So listen up, children. Forget about getting a job. There aren’t any. And forget your Facebook too. Just do your piano practice. Get good quickly – there isn’t a moment to lose.
Sunday 8 March 2009
I’m starting divorce proceedings in this special relationship
Back in the eighties, a French industrialist described Britain as an American aircraft carrier off the coast of Europe. And then last week Jacques Myard, a member of the French assembly, mocked the special relationship we claim to have with the US, hinting, with a rather cruel smile, that when it comes to foreign policy, they are the masters and we are the lapdogs, wagging our tails whenever they throw us a biscuit. Which isn’t very often.
It would be easy to scoff at this Gallic arrogance, arguing that, while Monsieur Myard can sit under his wisteria enjoying some lovely cheese, his country’s antipathy towards America means that all the pop music on French radio is rubbish and that his government cannot afford a new aircraft carrier. However, if you look at Gordon Brown’s recent trip to Washington, Johnny Frenchman would appear to have a point.
Gordon gave Obama Barrack a penholder carved from the timbers of an anti-slavery ship. The sister ship, in fact, of the one that was broken up and turned into the desk in the Oval Office. Barrack, meanwhile, gave Brown The Graduate on DVD. Which smacks of an ‘Oh, Christ. What shall we get him?’ moment at the local petrol station.
Then we have the issue with crime. The British authorities have to present a robust prima-facie case to the American courts before we can extradite someone to the UK. Whereas an American cop can drag you across the Atlantic if he even so much as thinks your beard is a bit dodgy.
Trade? Well, I spoke over dinner the other day with the boss of a large British engineering company about the benefits of the special relationship when you are doing business in America. He snorted so explosively that large chunks of lamb and mashed potato shot out of his nose. ‘Special relationship!’ he chortled. ‘There isn’t one.’ Certainly this was true during the Suez crisis, when America sat on its hands. It was also true when Harold Wilson refused to get involved with Vietnam.
And let’s not forget John Major either, who got all cross when Bill Clinton had Gerry Adams round to the White House for tea and buns.
Or how Bill got the hump with Major after details of his time at Oxford University were leaked to the press. Special relationship? Sounds more like a session at Relate to me.
Sure, Tony Blair was close to George Bush, but this, I fear, had nothing to do with Churchill’s dream and much to do with America’s need to claim its efforts in Iraq were ‘international’. A claim that was helped enormously by Blair’s wonky grasp of history. ‘My father’s generation went through the Blitz. There was one country and one people which stood by us at that time. America and the American people.’ Er. No they didn’t, Tony. They were too busy bankrupting the empire by charging £8 billion for two clapped-out First World War destroyers: the USS Weak and the USS Colander.
On a personal note, I find no evidence of a special relationship when I go to America. There is no fast-track lane through immigration for visiting Brits. The customs man always looks at me as if I’ve just chucked his tea into Boston harbour. And we have to answer questions about whether we’ve ever