Why 'Prime Minister at Play' turned into a farce

Aug 4 2008 By Sarah Evans

WODYS, a Worcester based youth drama group put on, last week at the Swan Theatre, a superb production of Back to the 80s, a nostalgic Grease-type musical, particularly well suited to teenagers.

Anything with a large cast of young people is going to play to packed houses of fond family and friends but in this case, it was well deserved with special credit going to the choreographer who managed to get teenage boys to dance convincingly. A large number of vocal solos that could spell disaster for most amateur groups caused this company no problems at all and there were some excellent performances notably the class nerd, Feargal Robert McPheran III who wins out in the end.

One of the romantic sub-plots took the time-honoured theme – the path of true love never runs smooth. The teacher romance falters when the schoolmaster, who gave a most polished performance, discovers his prim colleague, whom he has been wooing with red roses, has been modelling swimsuits in her past. Horrified, he calls off the relationship and not until the end is all happily resolved.

How different, I thought, from that liberal and heart-warming response of President Sarkozy to a not dissimilar situation, as recounted by his wife in an interview with Vanity Fair this month.

In order to prepare him for adverse publicity that might affect his glittering political career, his bride showed him some of the glamour photographs taken in her modelling days. No rapid cooling off here. If Carla is to be believed, Sarkozy instantly asked for a print of his favourite.

Everyone is delighted about this story because it has allowed yet another airing of those photographs of Mme Sarkozy nude, modestly clasping her hands before her, that warmed the thin blood of us English on the eve of her state visit to these shores earlier this year.

In addition Carla has provided through the kind offices of Vanity Fair, a whole host of divine fashion shoots of her today. She stands in a stunning, strapless, red evening gown, for unspecified reasons, on the roof of the Elysee Palace. The admiring breeze caresses her lovely long hair and she gazes beyond us all, caught in a thinking-of-a-new-deeply-meaningful-folksy-song moment.

You cannot help but make the contrast with our own politicians and their spouses, photographed last week in holiday mode.

It beggars belief that Gordon Brown, who presumably has the whole PR world at his beck and call, could make such a disaster of a simple photo opportunity – Prime Minister at Play. He looked as though he had been invited to a little-known neighbour’s lunchtime drinks party at Christmas. What could have possessed anyone to let him out looking so uncompromisingly stuffy? And, I have to say, Sarah Brown didn’t look much better in a pink cardie and black dress, a look that you could imagine being used in a supermarket magazine feature on how to go from office superwoman to evening glam puss – just remove your tailored jacket and replace with a pink shrug. Except she was neither at the office nor an evening dinner.

Since everyone knows, what is wrong with the Labour Party is nothing to do with their commendable vision for social justice, health and education but is all to do with the voting public being bored stiff of them and wanting a change.

It is extraordinary that there was not more imaginative effort put into this opportunity to win us all back. It can’t even be a stoic presentation of truth. No one could really pack those clothes to take to a seaside resort with little children.

The Camerons tried for a beachy look, though David is now a little too portly and forehead-challenged to pull off the boyish shorts and T-shirt. Mrs Cameron would have looked delightful for a sit-down alfresco lunch in Italy but English clouds, wind, showers and damp sand with that long flowery skirt – I don’t think not.

So I have great hopes for the Miliband family shots that surely must follow his sprint to the leadership starting line. He will have had the advantage of the Carla photos. I think perhaps a Batman pose on the top of a skyscraper, his foot resting manfully on The Joker.