Sir Ed Davey strode out on stage to the sound of Tony Christie’s (Is This the Way to) Amarillo. It was a clever touch. Amarillo is Spanish for yellow, after all. The Lib Dems are yellow. The way to amarillo is through Ed Davey. But also, it’s a song that stirs happy memories in the public consciousness, chiefly of Ronnie Corbett poleaxing himself on a treadmill for Comic Relief. This sacred role in British life, the pratfaller-in-chief, now belongs to Sir Ed, or so he wants us to believe.
All four days of Lib Dem conference have been graced with a heavily planned piece of Sir Ed slapstick. On Tuesday morning, there was cricket on Bournemouth beach. The news wires have all lit up with photographs of the Lib Dem leader’s body set forward in a perfect cover drive, the ball halfway to Cherbourg. It probably isn’t meant to be that the bit that always somehow gets left in the many retellings of his difficult life story, the bit that made all the rest possible, is a first-class private school education.
There have been occasional murmurings in the sweaty seafront hotels of Bournemouth that Sir Bungee’s elastic might be about to snap. That there’s only so far the relentless rollercoaster rides will take him. These are serious times, and perhaps a more serious approach is required. That’s harsh. Believe it or not, Sir Bungee is the most serious man they’ve got. He only pretends to be a wally so people might listen. He’s openly admitted, in interviews this week, that whenever the Lib Dems make boring policy announcements they just get ignored. If he’s not making a fool of himself no one even knows he’s there.
