Budget Day is also traditionally one for eccentric dress. A few top hats can be observed on the Conservative benches and the odd miner’s helmet rests on a Labour head. Tom Carson arrived in a boiler suit with a Liverpool scarf around his neck, while Alec Pimkin satisfied himself with a red silk waistcoat and a white carnation in the buttonhole of his morning coat.
The green leather of the two front benches begins to disappear long before three o’clock, and by then any straggling back-bencher will be relegated to the floor or to the upstairs galleries, known as the “Members’ Side Galleries,” which lack the atmosphere of the House and from which members traditionally do not rise to interrupt or make a speech.
At ten past three Raymond stepped out of No. 11 and held the famous battered budget box, first used by Gladstone, high above his head, so that the press photographers could take the traditional picture before he was driven off to the Commons.
By three-fifteen, when the Prime Minister rose to answer questions, the Chamber had taken on the look of an opening night in the West End, for what members were about to experience was pure theater.
At three-twenty-five Raymond entered the Chamber to be greeted by cheers from his own side. Every place in the Commons except his had been filled. He looked up to see Joyce in the Strangers’ Gallery, and smiled. At three-thirty, when the Prime Minister had finished answering questions, the chairman of Ways and Means — who traditionally takes the Speaker’s place for a budget debate as the Speaker, being “the King’s man,” does not preside over money matters — rose from his chair and called:
“Budget statement, Mr. Chancellor of the Exchequer.”
Raymond rose and placed his speech in front of him. He began with a review of the world economic position and went on to inform the House of the philosophy behind his first budget, namely to bring down unemployment without driving up inflation. He spoke for the first hour and a half without divulging to the House any of the fiscal changes that he would be making, so abiding by the tradition that no irreversible decisions could be considered until the Stock Exchange had closed, but also giving him the opportunity to tease the House with the odd hint or suggestion.
Raymond took a sip from the glass of water by his side when he had turned page seventy-eight. He had finished with the theory and was now ready to start on the practice.
“Old-age pensions will be raised to a record level,” he declared, “as will allowances for single-parent families and disablement grants.” Raymond paused and taking a faded sheet from his inside pocket read from the first speech he had ever delivered in public. “No woman whose husband has sacrificed his life for his country shall be allowed to suffer because of an ungrateful nation. War widows’ pensions will go up by fifty percent and war bonds will be honored at their full face value.” The cheering after this statement lasted for some considerable time. Once the House had settled again he continued. “The tax on beer, cigarettes, petrol, and perfume will go up by five percent. Taxes on salaries of more than £30,000 a year will be raised to eighty-five percent and capital gains tax to fifty percent.” Several Conservatives looked glum. The Chancellor went on to announce an expansion program in the regions to stimulate employment. He detailed his plan region by region, to cheers from different sections of the House.
He ended his speech by saying, “My purpose as the first Labour Chancellor for ten years is not to rob the rich and give to the poor, but rather to make those who live in comparative ease pay taxes that will alleviate the plight of those in genuine need. Let me tell those Honorable members who sit on the benches opposite that this is only a fifth of what I intend to achieve in the lifetime of this Parliament, and by then Britain can hope to be a more equal and just society. We intend to create a generation in which class is as outdated as the debtors’ prison, in which talent, hard work, and honesty are their own reward, a Socialist society that is the envy of the East as well as the West. This budget, Mr. Speaker, is nothing more than the architect’s plan for that dream. I look forward to being given enough time to build the reality.”
When Raymond resumed his seat after two hours and twenty minutes, the length of time it takes to run a world-class marathon, he was greeted by cheers and the waving of order papers from the benches behind him.
The leader of the Opposition was faced with the almost impossible task of an immediate response, and couldn’t hope to do more than pick up one or two weaknesses in the Chancellor’s philosophy. The House did not hang on her every word.
Book Five
1989–1991 Party Leaders
Chapter thirty-two
After the success of Raymond’s first budget the leader of the Opposition made changes to her Shadow Cabinet as quickly as was diplomatic. She moved the former Chancellor to cover the Foreign Office, Simon to tackle Home Affairs, and Charles to counter the formidable problems now raised by Raymond Gould at the Treasury.
Raymond soon discovered his task of pushing legislation through became that much harder when Charles had added the enthusiasm of his new young team to his own considerable experience of financial matters.
Raymond’s success continued, however, even if it was at a slower pace than that for which he would have hoped. Labour won the first two by-elections occasioned by members’ deaths, which in itself was remarkable in Government. The by-election results only started a fresh round of rumors that Denis Thatcher was pressing his wife to retire.
Charles Seymour knew that when such moves were finally made they could happen so suddenly that everyone seemed unprepared and uncertain what to do next. By the time Mrs. Thatcher announced her resignation he had been building up a loyal team around him for several months.
The former Prime Minister sent a letter to Sir Cranley Onslow, the new chairman of the 1922 Committee, letting him know that she would not be putting her name forward for reelection. She explained that she would be over sixty-five at the next election and had already led the party for fourteen years, the longest period for any Conservative since Churchill, and that she now felt she was ready to pass the leadership on to new blood.
The moment everyone in the party had said the usual phrases about the retiring leader being the greatest Prime Minister since Churchill, they proceeded to look for the new Churchill.
Within hours of Mrs. Thatcher’s resignation both Charles Seymour and Simon Kerslake had received calls and messages from about fifty or sixty supporters, and been contacted by all the leading political journalists. Charles went about his campaign in the thorough manner in which he approached everything, appointing lieutenants to cover each intake of new members since 1964. Simon had invited Bill Travers to organize his backup team. Travers, like any farmer, rose early each morning to gather in his harvest.
Both Simon and Charles were nominated within twenty-four hours of the necessary seven days, and by the weekend none of the rumored third candidates had appeared in the lists which convinced the press it would be a two-horse race.
The Financial Times went one better than its rivals. Its political editor, Peter Riddell, spent the whole week trying to contact the 289 Tory members. He succeeded in reaching 228 of them and was able to report to his readers that 101 had said they would vote for Simon Kerslake, ninety-eight for Charles Seymour, while twenty-nine had refused to give any opinion. The article’s headline read “Narrow lead for Kerslake,” and went on to point out that although the two men were polite about each other in public no one pretended they were friends.