Concrete pencil

By Tom Derbyshire on February 7, 2008 3:53 PM |

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THIS week, life has been super.

On Sunday night I stayed up to watch the Superbowl. On Tuesday I watched and read about Super Tuesday all the way through to not-so-super Wednesday. And that had been Super Shrove Tuesday too, so there were pancakes and everything. Super-duper Tuesday indeed.

It’s easy to snigger at the Americans for their cheerfulness, for everything being super, but that would be cheap – and we’re above that.

Besides, let’s look at the evidence. What’s better – cheerful or miserable?

They call it the Superbowl and it was indeed Super. A genuine upset, with a proper hero in Eli Manning.
Compare that with the England v Wales rugby on Sh*tty Saturday, which was anything but. Two teams so bad they seemed in a competition to finish last.

And Super Tuesday: Like the West Wing, only live. We got to say things like “too close to call,” and “it’s all about the big Mo – momentum”.

Compare that with British leadership contests and elections. Labour just had a coronation, and still managed to appear supremely dishonest in the non-contest for deputy leader. The Tories at least let the party have a bit of a say in who’s leader, but the votes very much come to the candidates. They don’t seem to campaign for them except on the telly.

I’m not saying I want the balloons or the razzmatazz of American politics, of course, that would be silly.
But we could do with some of the freshness, and the openness. It seems here that some pretty woolly-headed people can keep saying some pretty woolly-headed things because no one is really listening to them.

Our politicians speak in the language of third-rate regional management. “Governance issues”, “rolling out”, “key issues”. There’s not much oratory, is there. Or very many talented people, it seems.

PJ O’Rourke said you can tell how important and vital any movement is by the number of attractive women on the scene – the idea being some Darwinian impulse brings the most sexually successful together in the heart of where it’s at. British politics doesn’t measure up very well under that criteria.

So, what’s the solution? Well, I think we have to swallow our pride and start calling things super.
Election day can be Super Thursday. There’ll be stump speeches and President Bartlett. It’ll be great. They’ll stop sounding like a Carphone Warehouse sales meeting and start sounding like the heirs to Burke and Bevan.

And sport can do with some jazzing up. Last week I went to see league-two triers Brentford host Notts County. It was cold and not what you’d call classically exciting. But had they been called Super Brentford, who knows what might have happened. Passing along the actual ground. Actual goals.

It’s wide open – anything can happen. All you have to do is believe.