Part 27 - Very Secret Diary [From the diary of Anthony, Lord Stansgate] Monday, 15 September, 1969 Dear Diary, I have decided to keep a record for posterity of my contributions to the programme of Britain's first truly socialist government. All the triumphs and all the successes, so that future generations of politicians shall know what to emulate. I am conscious that by starting the diary now I have not made a record of all my achievements since my comrades and I were elected last month. I hope, in the very near future, to write some post-dated entries covering these important events. I was thinking of some of these achievements in my office this morning, sipping tea and awaiting my appointment to brief Sir Denis[1] on my American trip. Vietnam, of course. Equal pay for women. Votes for 18-year olds. Abolishing capital punishment. The Race Relations Board. Increasing the luxury rate of the VAT, as a first step to abolishing it. And exempting contraceptives from said luxury rate, again in line with our policies. Tom, Lord Bradwell, stuck his head in to say hullo. Tom has landed on his feet in the new government and no mistake. A v. amusing chap but I had serious doubts about his gravitas for the spot that Peggy had popped him in. As I expect my readers to know, the Lord Chamberlain is the government's official censor. And I'd always seem old Tom as something of a Nöel Coward 'Anything Goes' type.[2] But he went on to surprise me. "Just look at these," he said, throwing a sheaf of magazines onto my desk. I had a quick look and turned away. On the covers of the first two were young women completely topless. "Products of Soho pornographers!" he fumed. I nodded. He had only started to vent his feelings on the subject. "What if these fell into the hands of susceptible sixth form schoolboys?" he demanded to know, "They could be ruined for life!" I tried to follow his logic. The young ladies in question seemed to have an above average endowment in pulchritude and especially girth. I suppose a young chap on his wedding night might feel a brief pang of disappointment if his bride should prove less Junoesque. But Tom still hadn't married. Then a thought struck me, "Tom, were you exposed to this sort of thing as a schoolboy?" "Certainly not," he said indignantly. I could only conclude that he was determined to be the best Lord Chamberlain he could be.

It was the second marriage for both John and his Ono. So despite their wealth John saw no need for an extravagant honeymoon. He would show his new bride some of the land he remembered from his youth. A seaside holiday. Torquay. There are some things that money cannot buy. A good honeymoon in Torquay is one. Ono hated it. There was no view of the sea from their room. The food was terrible, when it was available. The staff were surly or incompetent and in one case both. But for some reason it amused John. In a way it seemed like a quintessentially English experience. It appealed to the comedian in him. Such an hotel would make an inspired setting for a television situational comedy. But Ono was adamant. "That is your old life, John. You have moved on. Now you are a singer and a song-writer. Who knows, one day you may be an artist like me. But you cannot go back." "Yes, dear."

(Wednesday, 17 September, 1969) The seaman's strike had brought home the need for trades union centralisation. The troika were meeting with the Environment Secretary, Barbara Castle, who shared their views on this issue. "We've centralised price-setting, economic planning, transport planning and the building of housing," said the Home Secretary, Jennie Lee. "Yet we've held off on wage-setting because we can't be sure of our support among our own people, the unions and the party." "And the opposition seems to be coming strongest from the Communist controlled unions," growled Denis Healey, "They talk about 'to each according to his needs' but then they play catch-as-catch-can and devil take the hindmost. Rightists!" "The unions still see the shop-steward on the factory floor as a key activist," explained Barbara, "They like to give them a lot of latitude, to run local disputes and strikes if they can. If they prove their metal, they are promotable and can take on a regional or national role." "Which is fine under a Tory government," Peggy weighed in, "but such random disputes now represent grit in the machinery of state. A shop-steward is a voice for his[3] members. As their representative he must transmit that voice upwards but not take matters into his own hands." "You'll have a lot of support from the Tories with those sort of words," laughed Barbara. "But support you can't count on," grumbled Denis, "They're the Opposition first and Tories only second. They'd be only too happy to support the unions and give the Red Lady a black eye." "Denis is right," opined Jennie, "The Left is split on this issue. We'll need the Right of the party on this one." "How might we get it?" Peggy asked Jennie with a shrewd look in her eye. As she suspected, Jennie had the answer. "The Programme has very few unions we control ourselves but a lot of our activists are lower down the hierarchy - as shop stewards. Once we get out of our honeymoon, say in November, we'll have them organise some local strikes on the silliest of pretexts. That'll bring the Right around to our legislation - and probably the Tories, too." "The Ticket Collector[4] won't like it," observed Barbara. "I know Ray," said Denis, "If he doesn't like something he'll walk out." Peggy turned her appraising eye to Barbara, "Well if that happens we shall just have to find a new Secretary for Labour." [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] The Permanent Secretary of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. Sir Denis in OTL became Lord Greenhill of Harrow. [2] It is unclear here whether Jimmy is referring to the song or the song-writer. [3] Even with two other female cabinet ministers present, it would not have occurred to Peggy to say, "or her." [4] Ray Gunter, the Secretary for Labour, with strong TUC links.