Why I'm the man to stop MSPs' high standards slipping; Fact-finding

Sunday Herald, The, Jul 21, 2002 by Tom Shields

WHEN you get to my time in life you start to think of what you can put back into society. To put it another way, I have just seen a job I rather fancy. It is the post of Scottish parliamentary standards commissioner. It is a part-time occupation requiring five to 10 days a month attending to duties.

The salary is not great at (pounds) 36,500, but money is not important. If selected, I pledge to give most of my earnings to such charities as the Tennents Lager Foundation, the Arthur Guinness Trust, and the Scottish-Cuban Cohiba Cigar Focus Group. I will also fund a long-term medical study into the effects of strong Spanish sunshine on the Scottish complexion, in particular that of the fifty- something male.

I feel that 33 years spent talking to and writing about our politicians is ample qualification for the job. "Trust me, I'm a journalist" will be the leitmotif of my work as Scottish parliamentary standards commissioner.

Although the post is not party-political in nature, I feel it is appropriate to set out my manifesto on how I intend to maintain, or even improve, the standards expected of members of the Scottish parliament. There is the matter of expenses. It is essential that the funds handed to our MSPs in brown envelopes are not diverted, laundered, or filtered for improper use, such as support in cash or kind to the political party machines or buying the weans Nike trainers.

All such monies must be properly spent on substantial lunches of the solid or liquid variety; maintaining expensive, gas-guzzling motor cars; or funding fact-finding tours to compare public housing initiatives in North Lanarkshire with similar schemes in the Caribbean.

We must ensure also that our MSPs do not lose touch with the electorate. Say, for instance, a candidate is elected on the basis that she is a bit overweight, buys her clothes out of the Grattan catalogue, and cannae speak proper. The standards commissioner will, I assure you, take a dim view if said candidate hires a personal trainer, loses weight, takes elocution lessons, and swaps the couture of George at Asda for that of Giorgio Armani.

Rather than wait for complaints from members of the public, I would, as standards commissioner, constantly monitor the performance of individual MSPs. If Winnie Ewing stops doing The Scotsman crossword at her desk and starts contributing to debates, she will get a note to see me. If Brian Monteith goes for a week without mentioning Hibernian FC, there will be swift action. If Jack McConnell is caught giving an honest answer, he will be asked to reconsider his position as First Minister.

There will be condign punishment for any MSP who fails to make at least one long and tedious speech a month about a minor constituency matter. Any member caught honouring three or more election pledges will be asked to resign the party whip and join the Scottish Socialists. And a final pledge. As standards commissioner, my door will always be open. I'll probably be out. Leave a message with my secretary.

In the likely event of my job application being filed in a Holyrood bin, I will be able to concentrate on writing my memoirs, A Brief History Of Tim. This is how I fill the hours at Pepys the Elder Towers now I no longer have the punishing schedule of daily attendance at the office. For inspiration, I have a Barry Fantoni cartoon out of Private Eye stuck on the wall, just above computer screen level. Two literary types are standing, clutching glasses of wine, perhaps at a publisher's party. "I'm writing a book," says the first. "Neither am I," says the second. My labours tend to be interrupted by afternoon television. I like the old movies, preferably black and white, but the advertisements are the best bits.

I am intrigued by the number of loan companies who want to throw money at me. Unfortunately, because I am not deeply in the financial mire and have a decent credit rating (so far), I don't seem to qualify. What you need are huge and unmanageable Visa and store charge card debts, with a few court proceedings and the odd repossession threat hanging over your head. If you fit this fiscal profile, all you have to do is pick up the phone and a charming blonde lassie at the call centre will repackage all your debts into one affordable, low monthly payment. And there will be money left over for a sunshine holiday and a new car. Has anyone told Gordon Brown about this simple system? Or does the Chancellor of the Exchequer already know - has he funded his (pounds) 60 billion extra public spending with one simple phone call?

It is changed days from the frugality of former Blue Peter presenters and Z Car detectives selling funeral insurance. Their deal is that you die without being a burden. And you get a free gift of a Parker pen or a carriage clock, possession of which the family will presumably fight over once they have eaten the ham sandwiches at the wake you paid for.

Or you can spend the money on a little luxury in the twilight of your life. John Stalker, the real-life former cop, is trying to flog awnings for the patio to protect us from the merciless beating sun which, you will have noticed, plagues our country. Mr Stalker lives in Manchester, where it rains all the time, so what does he know about sun awnings?