Byline: Yesterday in Quentin Letts Parliament
THE House of Lords took delivery of a new Black Rod yesterday.
This happened with the dramatic words from the Leader of the House, Lord Strathclyde, 'my lords, he is at the door, ready to receive your lordships' commands!' He was, indeed, at the door. Someone went to open it and in he strode, ramrod backed, stockinged, dressed in the best frilly cuffs and necklace seen since TV's Blackadder.
His ceremonial uniform included a clanking chestful of ribbons and a gleaming sword. He was also decked out in a pair of black leather gloves which didn't half give him the air of a cat burglar.
Lord Strathclyde had told the House the unwelcome news that the last Black Rod, Lt Gen Sir Frederick Viggers KCB, CMG, MBE, had decided to retire owing to poor health.
Poor Sir Freddie was felled by a stroke back in the early summer and has since been beating a path to recovery.
Everyone liked him. Sir Freddie, formerly Adjutant General, was a convivial figure and looked after the tobacco smokers among the peers.
He gave them a telephone extension on the Thames terrace so that they could ring their boyfriends/lawyers/etc while having a quick gasper outside.
His successor is Lt Gen David Leakey CMG, CBE (Lord Strathclyde was punctilious about listing these honours). He is a former director general of something called the European Union Military Staff and once served in Bosnia.
Leakey? Good name for Westminster.
He is perhaps not a man with whom to trifle, nor indeed a chap to veg' out on his sofa of a Saturday afternoon.
In Who's Who he lists his recreations as 'music, field sports, squash, hockey, tennis, sailing, skiing, golf, chain-sawing'. Chain-sawing! As for the field sports, Labour's joyless division won't like that.
Lord Strathclyde paid eloquent tribute to the retiring Sir Freddie. Lady Royall, for Labour, coughed up her own compliments but slightly spoilt her speech by calling him 'Block Rod', which sounds like a plumber's solution to sewage seepage. She also said 'Lootenant General' instead of 'Leftenant General'.
Oh dear.
Lord Dholakia, for the Liberal Democrats, exacted revenge on Lady Royall by mangling her name. He called her 'Lady Royale', as in the Ian Fleming novel Casino Royale.
A Lady Royale, sir? Served with cocktail umbrella and plastic cherry.
The convenor of the crossbench peers, the faintly artistic Lady D'Souza, had a turn with the tributes, as did Lady Farrington from the Labour backbenches. It was becoming a bit like a jazz concert where lots of players are given a solo.
There was a swirl of laundered surplice and the Bishop of Guildford was on his hooves, swaying, hands clasped. He warbled moist thanks to Sir Freddie 'for his ministry to us'. God bless the C of E. Pure Derek Nimmo.
Lady Hayman, Lord Speaker, was itching like a cat with fleas. Eventually it was her turn. Boy, did she milk it. Lady Hayman is not often given the floor. Her highly-paid position, created under Labour, is by and large a non-event and she spends most of the time sitting on the Woolsack like a spare part, aching for a raison d'etre.
YESTERDAy, praising Sir Freddie, she managed to crowbar hersel f into the glory, pointing out that she had worked with Sir Freddie 'of course very closely on security'.
Every last drop of value having been wrung out of proceedings, Lady Hayman eventually resumed the Woolsack, glowing with pleasure at having had a go.
Some will say that 21st century Britain has no need of a Black Rod (or even Block Rod). They may add that the ceremonial garb is ridiculous and that what the House of Lords needs is a security officer with a diploma in clipboard studies.
That would be a pity. The Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod, whose name comes from his ebony wand of royal office, is a reminder of the longevity of this currently tarnished house of Parliament.
After the recent days of rank politicking by peers who used to be MPs, it is no bad thing to restore a historical perspective.
CAPTION(S):
Convivial: Sir Freddie Viggers
