I’m sure there are sound arguments against Tony Blair's 90-day detention proposals, but Boris Johnson’s memories of his night in a police cell somehow don't bring out the civil libertarian in me. Then again, as you may know, I’ve never been a fan of that set of upper-crust Oxford hooligans known as the Bullingdon Club. "We were fairly certain we were innocent of this particular crime," pleads Boris. Only fairly? Come, come...
But I got the impression that the police wanted to charge someone with something, and they needed a witness. Now, they announced triumphantly, they had found one. They had been talking to the six lads in the cell next door, and guess what.
"They said the blond fellow did it!" said the cop. I was stunned, outraged, and then a little fearful. To my dying day I will refuse to believe that any of my chums could have tried to fit me up, even after five hallucinatory hours in the cells. But I was suddenly conscious of the immense practical power of the state, and its ability to make my life hell.
Well, yes. On the other hand, if a group of yobs from the local Blackbird Leys estate regularly trashed pubs and clubs, and then kindly offered to pay for the damage (as the Bullingdon boys do) it's unlikely we'd be so indulgent towards them. If that makes me seem "chippy", then so is ex-Tatler editor, Libby Purves. I've posted a link to her column before, but it's definitely worth re-visiting. I especially like the reference to the Portaloo and the Hungarian count. There's breeding for you.
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