Pubdate: Sun, 10 Nov 2002
Source: Independent on Sunday (UK)
Column: Editor-At-Large
Copyright: Independent Newspapers (UK) Ltd.
Contact:  http://www.independent.co.uk/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/208
Author: Janet Street-Porter

YES, MR DACRE, I HAVE TAKEN ECSTASY

The other night I had a conversation with Paul Dacre, editor of that 
bastion of Middle England, the Daily Mail

The other night I had a conversation with Paul Dacre, editor of that 
bastion of Middle England, the Daily Mail. Mr Dacre is in despair, which is 
hardly a surprise. Two of his "rocks" (to coin an emblematic phrase) - the 
institutions of the Tory party and Royal Family, on which he relies to sell 
his papers in vast quantities - are in disarray.

Last week I wrote a comment piece for our sister paper, The Independent, 
pointing out the hypocrisy that exists within the television industry. As a 
former BBC executive and on-screen presenter I could understand both sides 
of the sorry Angus Deayton saga. Mr Deayton was sacked for being revealed 
as someone who indulges in cocaine and wild sex with more than one person 
at once - which many media executives not only indulge in, but turn a blind 
eye to. Mr Dacre had not only read my article (and tried to get me to write 
a version of it for his publication) but also demanded to know what Class A 
drugs I took on a regular basis.

No doubt someone at Associated Newspapers' HQ is compiling a dossier on my 
leisure activities, but surely it would be statistically unlikely that I 
would never have taken ecstasy or smoked dope. So, yes, dear readers, I 
have indulged in the odd E, and have no ill effects to report. Indeed, its 
main effect is to make me so unnaturally pleasant to all and sundry that 
many friends think it should be prescribed by my doctor on a regular basis.

Along with the fortunes of the Tories and the monarchy, the Daily Mail is 
obsessed with "wars". The drugs war, along with "youth out of control" and 
"gays taking over", is a regular theme. Hence Mr Dacre's question. But as 
Ben Elton points out so perceptively in his latest novel, High Society, the 
war on drugs is not only comprehensively lost but not even a battle worth 
engaging in. This weekend, up to a million people will be taking ecstasy, 
and, for all the effort to downgrade the severity of punishment for 
possessing cannabis and small amounts of E, not one person less has been 
persuaded not to take drugs. By doing so they not only engage in a criminal 
activity, but also feed money into a parallel economy run by criminals who 
profit from the current drug laws. Hypocrisy about drugs runs right through 
the treatment of Mr Deayton to the vilification of Commander Brian Paddick, 
the Metropolitan Police officer formerly in charge of London's Lambeth 
borough, who committed two crimes in the world of the Mail: one, to be a 
gay high-profile copper, and two, to voice the perfectly reasonable opinion 
that his officers could spend their time more profitably than endlessly 
arresting people for minor drug offences. Thanks to the Mail, Commander 
Paddick currently languishes in a kind of operational limbo, neither guilty 
nor innocent, but anyway unable to do a job he was clearly extremely very 
good at. Hypocrisy rules once more.

Ben's Rational Farce

In Ben Elton's roller-coaster romp, Labour MP Peter Paget proposes the 
decriminalisation of all drugs, from crack to cannabis, something Mr Elton 
himself thinks is not only a practical and sensible idea, but ultimately 
inevitable. It is the only way to guarantee quality, properly deal with 
addiction, and remove the criminal element from drug dealing, as drugs can 
be sold over the counter. Drugs can be taxed and be a source of government 
revenue. In other words, Mr Elton thinks we should treat drugs in the way 
that we treat something that is just as addictive and lethal: alcohol. This 
is his drug of choice, but he makes a compelling case for rethinking our 
approach to all drugs, abandoning the Class A and B categories and entering 
the real world, where, every weekend, people indulge in a cocktail of 
chemicals, regardless of how the Government regards their dangers.

Of course, High Society is a farce - it wouldn't be the work of Ben Elton 
otherwise - with a list of comic characters including an impossibly stupid 
junkie rock star, a luscious House of Commons secretary who proves to be 
the downfall of family man Paget, a tragic young Scottish prostitute, and a 
clutch of bent coppers taking kickbacks from dealers. At times they can 
seem one-dimensional, and any reader can see the happy ending coming a mile 
off. But for all that, High Society is a bloody good read, because it's 
based on such a rip-roaringly good premise. And Elton is the master of 
sniffing out hypocrisy in all its forms.

Novel Servants

Mr Elton's previous novel, Dead Famous, focused on the vacuous world of 
television reality shows, such as Big Brother. Now that he's dealt with 
drugs, I'd suggest fresh territory to which he might profitably turn his 
attention. Servants. From Paul Burrell to Backstairs Billy, the Royal 
Family seems to have an extraordinary knack for picking the weirdest 
characters as its employees. But it's not just the aristocracy or pop stars 
who employ people to "do". In 21st-century Britain, as women have to cope 
with careers and families, and the length of the working day is increased 
by commu-ting, more of us than ever employ people to come into our homes 
and help. Not butlers, but cleaners, nannies, part-time secretaries and 
gardeners. And are any of us any better at knowing how to deal with them 
than Diana, Princess of Wales or the Queen?

True, we probably don't expect them to stand while we watch TV, or bring 
our favourite crockery and rugs into hospital while we're having a 
hys-terectomy or whatever, but we might expect them to do our washing and 
not blab. I once had a male housekeeper who sold his story to a women's 
magazine and the headline news seemed to be the fact that he used to have 
to wash my knickers. Luckily he fell off his clogs one day on the way to 
work and I had an excuse to pay him off. In modern Britain, the tortured 
relationship between boss and hired help seems the perfect follow-up to The 
Office, at the very least.
- ---
MAP posted-by: Richard Lake