The Daily Telegraph - 24.07.2019

18 ***^ Wednesday 24 July 2019 The Daily Telegraph

Front Bench

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need to know

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front-bench

1

F

or six years, my family has

endured a living nightmare.

That’s how long it has been since

the fantasist Carl Beech concocted his

hateful series of lies about my late

father, Lord (Greville) Janner, a gentle,

kind and loving man who was never

convicted of any offence and whose

lengthy record of public service has

been besmirched in the most evil way.

Beech, who as the witness known as

“Nick” sparked a moral panic over

establishment paedophiles, was

convicted of fraud and perverting the

course of justice on Monday. However,

far from closing this sorry episode in

British legal history, pressing concerns

remain – not least why his absurd lies

were treated by the police as if they

were, in the words of one senior

officer, “credible and true”. Much of

the blame for that rests with one man:

Labour’s deputy leader Tom Watson.

In October 2012, Watson used

parliamentary privilege to say there

was “clear intelligence suggesting a

powerful paedophile network linked

to Parliament and No 10”. In the

aftermath of the revelations about

Jimmy Savile, this set off a witch-hunt

for imaginary paedophiles.

My father was far from the only

victim. Field Marshal Lord Bramall had

his house ransacked by police to the

enormous distress of his wife who was

suffering from dementia. Lord Brittan,

a former home secretary, died with the

appalling allegations of Nick still

hanging over him. The DJ Paul

Gambaccini was kept on police bail for

a year, a hellish experience for an

innocent man. Sir Cliff Richard had a

police raid on his home filmed by BBC

helicopters and won his subsequent

privacy case against the corporation

and South Yorkshire Police.

All of these men are owed an

apology by Watson. Instead he has

shown not a glimmer of remorse.

When my father died in 2015, Watson

used his death as an excuse to further

exacerbate our misery, putting out a

press release saying that his “thoughts

at this time are with the survivors” of

abuse – survivors just like Beech.

This heartless reaction is typical of a

man who thought he could position

himself as the scourge of sexual abuse

in order to promote his own profile,

whipping up public frenzy as an act of

self-aggrandisement. To see him now

claiming the moral high ground on

Labour anti-Semitism is appalling.

What should have been a

straightforward police investigation

was politicised. Even Inspector

Clouseau could have seen that my

father, a Labour MP, would have been

highly unlikely to abuse children in

the Carlton Club, an institution

synonymous with the Tory party. This

is but one of the holes in Nick’s various

stories and police officers should have

dismissed him as a fantasist in

minutes. Under political pressure,

they seemed to think they couldn’t.

That isn’t, of course, to say that

Watson should bear the blame for all

their failings. In light of evidence from

Beech’s trial, the Independent Office

for Police Conduct investigation must

be reopened to examine whether

specific officers were guilty of

misconduct. Then there is the wider

problem, stemming from Sir Keir

Starmer’s time as Director of Public

Prosecutions, whereby officers were

Labour’s deputy leader

bears much of the blame

for the damage to innocent

families by fantasist ‘Nick’

DANIEL

JANNER

T

here is a convention

that an incoming prime

minister offers a few

words of reassurance

and hope to the nation

on the threshold of

10 Downing Street. The custom is not

of longstanding and was probably

instituted by Harold Wilson in 1964.

Before that, newly installed premiers

contented themselves with an

avuncular wave, before disappearing

behind the famous front door.

Boris Johnson must be tempted to

do the same. After all, he did say his

piece when the result of the leadership

contest was announced, but that was

a Conservative Party event. When

he returns from Buckingham Palace

this afternoon as Prime Minister, that

is a national moment and he will be

expected to rise to the occasion.

In any case, a man who has made

his living from crafting artfully

elegant phrases can hardly resist the

opportunity to ensure his prose is

deathless. Unforgotten. Immortal. But

that is the problem: when things go

wrong, as they will, your words are

thrown back in your face.

In May 1979, Mrs Thatcher famously

quoted St Francis of Assisi, but later

lamented that the prayer – “Where

there is discord, may we bring

harmony” – became the subject of a

“good deal of sarcasm”. Harmony was

not the most obvious characteristic of

her time in office.

As he prepared to walk through

the famous front door in 1990, her

successor, John Major, said: “We are

going to unite totally and absolutely

and we will win the next general

election.” He was right about the

election. Unity, however, eluded him.

A youthful Tony Blair posed with

his family in 1997 and promised a

“world-class education system” and

a “modernised welfare system”, but

found his agenda stymied by Gordon

Brown. When the Chancellor took

over 10 years later, he quoted his

school motto, “I will try my utmost”,

ending with “And now, let the work of

change begin”, before being blown out

of the water by the financial crisis.

Up next was a fresh-faced David

Cameron in 2010 promising strong

and stable government, which to be

fair the Coalition delivered for five

years, while sowing the seeds of the

political crisis that is with us now.

Theresa May’s speech in July 2016 was

well received (more so on the Left, it

must be said) for offering “a different

kind of Conservatism”, a pledge that

she was never able to fulfil because of

a lost parliamentary majority.

And now it’s Boris’s turn. What does

he say? Does he stand there with his

girlfriend Carrie Symonds or will he be

the first prime minister since Edward

Heath to enter No 10 without a partner

by his side? Does he have his hands in

his pockets or his hair brushed? These

are called the “optics”, the way things

look. Nowadays, the first impression is

more important than ever, because it

is endlessly repeated on 24-hour news

outlets and on social media. Get it

wrong and it will return to haunt you.

Boris is instinctively predisposed

to optimism, as he showed in his last

column for this newspaper on Monday,

when he said it was time for the

country to recover “some of its can-do

spirit”. Inevitably, his detractors scoff

at what they consider Panglossian

sentiment. Gloom, despondency and

apocalyptic doom-mongering are

their preferred perspectives. If there

is a sense of foreboding abroad, it is

because of this incessant litany of

misery – nowhere more apparent than

in the utterances of Mr Blair, once the

most sanguine of politicians, now the

arch-apostle of calamity.

In the current circumstances – the

least auspicious for any arrival in No 

since 1940 – few would envy Boris the

task ahead, even if his elevation does

mark the culmination of a lifelong

ambition. Virtually every one of

his predecessors has come to office

bolstered by party goodwill, even if

there had been a hard-fought contest

for the top job. Probably only Mr Blair

was opposed by a goodly chunk of his

party – the hard-Left, including Jeremy

Corbyn, was never reconciled to New

Labour. But he had such a stonking

majority that they were irrelevant.

Mr Johnson does not have that

luxury. He will doubtless talk about

unity again today (every PM does),

yet he cannot unite his own party, let

alone the country, without a popular

mandate, and probably not even

then. The antipathy towards him

among a fair number of Tory MPs is

deep-seated and will be mobilised if

he tries to take the UK out of the EU

without a deal. The old Tory instinct

of loyalty towards the leader has been

incinerated by the flames of Brexit,

as Mrs May found out.

Until Brexit is resolved, it is

impossible to move forward with any

other policy. In fact, until there is a

The new PM must be bold

and strike now to get the

parliamentary majority

he needs to govern

PHILIP

JOHNSTON

JUDITH WOODS

Tom Watson must apologise – then resign

The worst thing

about hot weather?

Being told the

bleeding obvious...

O

oh, I say, isn’t it

hot? Scorchio, in

fact. We’re not

complaining, obviously,

because that might sound

ungrateful and, as it’s

courtesy of an African

plume, possibly racist. But

nor are we constitutionally

suited to broiling heat

and blazing sun in these

sceptred isles. That’s what

abroad is for.

Even the most diehard

Remainer would surely feel

a little less anxious about

leaving Europe if we get to

keep the weather, which is

the best bit. That and the

wine. And the culture. And

the skinny cats keeping the

children amused at outdoor

restaurants while we

linger for hours over frutti

di mare, imported from

Cornwall.

But mostly it’s the climate

that we have historically

envied. And now, after

last year’s heatwave, we

find ourselves yet again

in the parched throes of a

searing summer (a salutary

reminder to be careful what

one wishes for).

We must all learn to adapt

our buildings and houses

and habits, especially as

it’s predicted that London

will be as sweltering as

Barcelona in three decades,

due to global warming.

Here in 2019, however, a

lot of us are feeling mightily

hot and bothered – not by

the weather, but by the

bleeding obvious advice

on how to cope with it. Are

we really such overgrown

babies that we need to

be exhorted to wear light

clothing and stay hydrated?

It was not so very long

ago that we laughed

uproariously about packs

of nuts bearing the prim

warning “May contain nuts”

and takeaway coffee cup

lids stamped: “Caution:

contents hot”. Now we are

expected to listen reverently

to revelatory advice such

as “Stay out of the sun”,

“Carry a bottle of water”

and “Take the woollen socks

off ” (obviously the Scots are

exempt from this one).

Infantilising doesn’t

begin to describe NHS

encouraged to assume that all

“victims” (in reality, merely

“complainants”) were to be believed.

Meanwhile, the Independent

Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse

(IICSA) rumbles on. Since my father

was accused, we have won every civil

case that has been brought – yet the

Kafka-esque and wholly unjust

kangaroo court of IICSA still has a

strand devoted to him. Accusers are

given anonymity and we have no right

to cross-examine them.

Fundamental legal reform is needed

to protect innocent men. It is why I

founded Falsely Accused Individuals

for Reform (FAIR), campaigning for,

among other changes, a right to

anonymity for people accused of sex

crimes. It is simply wrong that Beech,

a criminal fantasist, could hide behind

the pseudonym “Nick” for so long

while innocents were traduced as

paedophiles and child murderers.

There are, after all, no worse

allegations that can be made against

somebody – a fact that apparently

wasn’t lost on Watson when he set out

to attack my father. Now that the man

who first made them languishes in jail,

it’s time for Watson to apologise and

resign. It is the least he can do.

Daniel Janner QC is the founder of FAIR

Boris needs a snap election to

replace this paralysed Parliament

new Parliament, nothing at all can

happen. Boris has a working majority

of three, even with the DUP, and that

will be virtually erased if the Tories

lose Brecon and Radnorshire in next

week’s by-election. Talk of his team

busily preparing a Queen’s Speech and

a Budget is for the birds since neither

would pass this House.

That is why an election is essential.

It is the dead man’s handle that stops

the train of democracy smashing

into the wall. Another referendum

would take months to organise, if it

even could be, and would deepen

national divisions, not repair them. A

parliamentary majority is an absolute

requirement to govern.

A bold leader would avoid waiting

for his enemies to gather their forces,

strike now and go to the country

with a clear Brexit plan, at the

same time securing a majority for a

brand of free market, enterprising

conservatism aimed at boosting

British competitiveness, the very

thing the EU is anxious to thwart.

By going early, Boris would

neutralise the betrayal narrative that

Nigel Farage is waiting to deploy

against him when he fails to leave

by October 31, as he will if he lets

this paralysed Parliament dictate his

premiership. He will catch Labour

in complete disarray, up against a

Remain-backing Lib Dem party whose

new leader, Jo Swinson, may appeal to

many Labour voters.

It is a strategy fraught with risks,

and some Tories unable to support a

Johnsonian manifesto on Brexit will

jump ship. But these are desperate

times. If Boris wants to say something

memorable in Downing Street today,

it is this: “When Parliament returns

in September, I intend to seek the

backing of MPs for a general election

at the earliest possible opportunity.”

To order prints or signed copies of any Telegraph cartoon, go to telegraph.co.uk/prints-cartoons or call 0191 603 0178  [email protected]

suggestions that we splash

our faces with cold water

and wear sunglasses

outdoors. Ditch the duvet?

Who’da thunk it?

In my book, there are

only three hot weather

hacks. The first is to go

back to basics and carry a

fan in your handbag – they

are fantastic (sorry) and

amazingly efficient. If you

have a spare one, take that,

too; in the overheated crush

of public transport, you

could probably swap it for a

kidney or, better still, a seat.

Next, forget the milky

drink and the light cotton

sheet. The only way to nod

off at night is to soak a towel

in cold water and wrap it

round your feet; this top tip

comes courtesy of my sister,

who lives in the Caribbean.

Ironically, she only uses

this trick when she comes

back to Britain in summer,

where our homes are

woefully ill-equipped for

ultra-weather events. Back

in Barbados, there’s no need.

Finally, follow the aircon-

trail (gettit? A contrail is

that white line of condensed

water left in the sky in

the wake of an aircraft).

Museums, churches

and supermarket chiller

cabinets are predictably

cool. Visit them. A lot. Plead

for a lock-in if you can.

Last year I found myself

in Croatia, where the

medieval fortified city of

Dubrovnik was so scorching

that my internal thermostat

exploded. While my

husband walked the 13th-

century walls, I spent about

four hours loitering in the

Captain Candy sweet store

because it had sub-zero

aircon, presumably to stop

the jelly mega-spiders

and foot-wide fried eggs

from liquidising due to the

soaring mercury.

What can I say? Some like

it hot. Some prefer it tepid.

It’s not just the channel that

separates us from Europe.

READ MORE at

telegraph.co.uk/

opinion

FOLLOW Daniel

Janner on Twitter

@ JannerQc;

READ MORE at

telegraph.co.uk/

opinion

FOLLOW Judith Woods on

Twitter @judithwoods;

READ MORE at

telegraph.co.uk/opinion

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