It was we who had to persuade the rest of the Party to adopt one member one vote

It was we who had to persuade the rest of the Party to adopt one member, one vote. It was unions such as my own which worked with Neil Kinnock and John Smith to drive out Militant. If at some future date, unions and union members can no longer affiliate to, contribute to, and play their part in New Labour then we shall all suffer. The losers will be first democracy; second the Party, and third the nation.Had it not been for the affiliation of the unions, there would have been no New Labour to offer to the electorate.

These may or may not be the words of Alan Johnson and Tony Young, for whom I have the utmost respect, but they are the words of others who want to cast off millions of ordinary union members and move into, as they see it, more exciting, yet uncharted, waters.
Yet trade unions are something about which these protagonists know nothing. They don’t understand the need for unions, because they have neither had to struggle to make ends meet, nor had to work for an employer who denies them a living wage, sick pay or holidays.They are blind to the possibilities of the Nineties and beyond because their fears are frozen in the Seventies. That’s a pity, because we may as well have the debate and bring out into the open what some of those jostling for influence in New Labour have been saying behind cupped hands: put an end to union presence and union influence at all levels of the Party, from local constituency parties to the National Executive Committee And do it now. So the proposed Fabian pamphlet by Alan Johnson and Tony Young on loosening Labour’s links with the unions is not now to be published.

“What about these stains?” The queue began to make whinnying noises, like the villagers in a Hammer horror movie. “This one by the crotch?” Why, I asked her in an urgent undertone, “are you asking me these awful questions? “It’s our policy, sir,” she said brightly. “It helps with the cleaning process if we know what kinds of stain…”I opened my cheque book “Perhaps I could pay you in advance for this,” I muttered “That’ll do nicely sir,” she replied sweetly.. Obviously this was the sort of thing Jeffrey Dahmer would say about the stains on his jacket She picked up the trousers. A couple of the people behind me craned to see.”I have no idea,” I said. “They’re just ordinary, day-to-day wear and tear.” The customers began to mutter. I think, um, it was karahi gosht, a sophisticated Punjabi dish, I believe…” But the other customers had got the message: I was a Friday-night, balti-house-haunting, lager- hoovering yahoo with no table manners.”This blood?” she asked laconically, having moved on to the pockets “Or somethin’ else,” she added darkly.

Taking a deep breath, she inquired, in tones of suspicion that would not disgrace Michael Mansfield QC, “What are these stains?”Excuse me?”Woss this?” She pointed to a disgusting orangey blot “Curry?”"No,” I said “Yes Well not exactly curry. I presented her with a favourite jacket and two pairs of pants. The place was crowded, six or seven people being served by two matrons in white overalls, along with my stroppy beauty. “It’s our policy,” she said through clenched teeth.”It ain’t mine,” I retorted, pure Lee Van Cleef.For a month I handed in trousers and jackets, was asked for payment in advance, refused to comply, stood on my dignity, paid on collection and generally got my own way Then, on Saturday, the war opened another front. “It may well be,” I said, “but it’s not my policy to pay for anything until it’s done.” (With the exception of ingesting beer, of course). Then, the other day, the Ginger Spice doll behind the counter announced: “It is now our policy to ask for payment in advance.” We regarded each other coldly.

When they ask “D’you want that done Gold Service?” and you reply, “No thanks, I can think of better things to do with my entire monthly salary,” they do everything, short of actually throwing your clothes on the floor and stamping on them, to register their contempt for your cheapskate posturing. There are two speeds of efficiency at Sketchley’s: Standard (ie, reasonably priced) and Gold Service (ie, exorbitant). Possibly as a result of some new management initiative, they have started giving themselves tremendous airs “Is that linen?” they’ll say. “It’s our policy to charge pounds 2 extra on linen garments.” Given that every grown-up male who has been impressed by a) Martin Bell or b) The English Patient in the past few months now wears a cream linen jacket, this seems a teensy bit opportunistic.