My diary said eleven in the morning so I turned up in good time at the Methodist Central Hall in Westminster last month, ready to do a turn for a sixth-form conference on politics. For half an hour or so I was to talk to an audience of about 1,000 youths and youthettes about the present government’s performance and the present opposition’s prospects. I like these occasions. I was looking forward to my 30 minutes.
Except that I had got the time wrong. My session was billed for noon, not eleven. The hour now left slack was too short to start anything else. Irritation yielded to curiosity when I realised that Charles Kennedy was on his feet on the conference rostrum, and would be followed by Iain Duncan Smith. It is instructive to be a fly on the wall when adults talk to youngsters or pets. Unwittingly, we reveal much when we think it in our power to spin our listeners any line we like.
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