Brogue maleTony Blair has disclosed that he always wears his 'lucky shoes' to PMQs. But have his Church's been a good investment then?
Michael White, guardian.co.uk, Saturday June 23 2007
Suited and booted: Tony Blair walks the walk at the Falklands war memorial, June 2007. Photograph: Carl De Souza/PA.So, Tony Blair has a lucky pair of Church's shoes, black Chetwynd brogues to be precise. According to the Times, the prime minister has worn them to every session of prime minister's question time since 1997.
Has that brought him luck, let alone the rest of us? Well, you decide. Many MPs still resent the way he halved the number of sessions at a highhanded stroke in 1997 - from 15 minutes on Tuesdays and Thursdays to a single 30-minute session on Wednesdays. I share their lingering resentment.
But I watched Blair battling away with David Cameron on Wednesday, his fifth Tory leader at the dispatch box since 1994, and his 317th session as PM since 1997. He's still pretty good at it, sharp with the politics, quick to harness facts that buttress his argument, goodnatured in his humour rather than witty.
But is it normal for politicians to resort to such devices as lucky brogues to bolster their self-confidence for this weekly ordeal? Not that I am aware of. Harold Wilson used to down a brandy or three; Harold Macmillan felt physically sick. Even the Iron Lady was nervous. It is a real bear pit, though it helps keep them on their toes and accountable. Many EU premiers don't know where their parliaments are, she once observed in a typically Maggie-ish way.
Plenty of people are superstitious and keep lucky this-and-thats. My own keys have been on the same bottle opener since I was 16. It's been a while since I used it, but I hesitate to remove it, fearing that I will finally lose my keys.
The reason for politicians in general not resorting to such harmless nonsense may be that they believe, more than most of us, in their capacity to impose their will upon events - to change the political weather. Otherwise, why bother? I once suggested to Mrs Thatcher at an election press conference that she never seemed to acknowledge the role of luck in her career: a London constituency, a wealthy husband ... I had a long list of Maggie's lucky breaks, but I got no further than ''wealthy husband'' before the prime minister exploded, explaining to the watching world that Denis wasn't really rich. Which was true, but only up to a point. He financed her switch to the Bar and made her career possible. They were deeply loyal to each other to the end - more luck.
Politicians have sartorial trademarks, mind you, a good idea long before photography and TV. The Tudors knew the importance of image - hence those powerful dynastic portraits. So did the kings of France and their meritocratic successor, Napoleon Bonaparte, not quite so grand as David made him look. Nelson, also a bit of a rock star in his day, was blessed with a visible gimmick or two: that eye-patch, that empty sleeve. Brilliant.
Winston Churchill always wore a bow tie, but that was filial piety to honour the memory of his late father, a mercurial, tragically wasted talent who died young. Shoes seem the least effective sartorial prop in this respect, which may be why TB felt the need to share it with someone at the end. It must be frustrating if no one evers asks, ''Aren't they your lucky black brogues, you're wearing today? The ones you've only had resoled once in 18 years?'' As a matter of fact, yes, they are.
Napoleon, incidentally, thought his magnificent wife, Josephine, to be his lucky token - and that it all went wrong only after he divorced her to secure a son and heir. Wives do matter. Like Cherie Blair, the loyal Nancy Reagan, was a believer in tarot cards, lucky crystals and horoscope nonsense, and was also a loyal and powerful influence at home.
It's not quite like wearing a rabbit's foot into battle or the same pair of boxer shorts to an EU summit. It's not what these people do. So when Bonaparte asked of his generals, "Is he lucky?", what he really meant was "Does he make use of his share of the luck we all get; does he take his chances when they come?"
That's what makes most successful politicians. Chance and circumstance allow few to change the weather, most have to go with it and grab what sunshine passes: the higher opportunism.
What's really worrying me is whether Mr Blair paid full price for those shoes. Says the Times, Chetwynd brogues cost £150 in 1997, £290 now. David Blunkett was scandalised when Blair urged a similar purchase on him. But he's right to say that good English shoes are always a good idea - cheaper in the long run, too, if you look after them. But pay full price for a pair of Church's, rather than pick them up in the sales? Come on, Tony, did you pay top whack - or did you make your own luck and get them at a discount?
