The best medicine

First there was the laughter. The revelation of rumours of David Cameron’s alleged youthful indiscretion was what Twitter was made for. Within moments, #Hameron was trending worldwide. Having decided to have an early night after “a quick check of Twitter” two hours later I was still on the sofa, tears of laughter streaming down my face. And the following morning on the tube, everyone was laughing with me.

Then, sure as night follows day, came the backlash. Tory commentators trying to claim that the story was both false and – at the same no big deal. Apparently we’ve all done it! And this was followed by a certain amount of lefty moralising about the degraded behaviour of our public school elite. But the public weren’t listening to either. They were too busy sharing funny mock ups of Peppa Pig on Facebook.

Finally we came to the point where we started to debate the political impact of #piggate. Would Cameron suffer reputation damage and ultimately electorally as a result of the reporting of these youthful indiscretions. Consensus among most columnists (including myself) was no, probably not. The rumours will only reinforce the Bullingdon Club image of the PM that already exists. Those for whom this kind of thing matters, probably have their voting patterns pretty set. As for the rest of the public, they will get on with laughing about it in the pub, but forget about it in the polling booth.

There is a school of thought that says if something doesn’t matter electorally, we shouldn’t talk about it. Dedicate our energies elsewhere. To the long, hard, tough battle ahead. And I’m sure there’s a lot to be said for that. But my God politics can’t half be po faced sometimes!

We’re about to gather our battered and fractious tribe together to go to the seaside. We’re not there for any kind of jolly the general public would recognise as such. We will be having intense conversations about internal organisation and external policy. We will be agreeing and disagreeing vehemently – and sometimes over areas the general public are baffled by if not indifferent to. Which is fine as that’s what political parties do once a year.

But in our rush to be serious politicos, to look and feel like we are doing the important job of politics, let’s not forget what it is to be human. Because when we forget that, we forget the voters. We forget why politics matters – because of the people.

Now I’m not suggesting that we start running party political broadcasts scripted by the strangely prescient Charlie Brooker. Labour as a formal political body should absolutely not seek to make hay over this. It would be distasteful and grotesque (not as distasteful and grotesque as the act itself though, eh!) and would not be becoming of a party that seeks government. Indeed Jeremy Corbyn has already struck the right note in refusing to comment on the story and instead bringing the political story around to the allegation that the PM may have lied about exactly when he knew about Lord Ashcroft’s tax status.

But the professional body politics can sometimes act as if everything in life is a campaign moment. There can be a frustration when there is a focus on trivia. But the electorate don’t think like that and we should understand that.

There are times in life, when what is needed is a bloody good laugh. We’re a battered and bruised party who lost an election not six months ago. We face enormous struggles electorally. Yes, we need to get out there and change the public’s minds about us. But first, during even, let’s join in their laughter.

Because let’s face it: it’s bloody funny.