YES, MR DACRE, I HAVE TAKEN ECSTASY

The other night I had a conversation with Paul Dacre, editor of that
bastion of Middle England, the Daily Mail

The other night I had a conversation with Paul Dacre, editor of that
bastion of Middle England, the Daily Mail. Mr Dacre is in despair, which is
hardly a surprise. Two of his "rocks" (to coin an emblematic phrase) - the
institutions of the Tory party and Royal Family, on which he relies to sell
his papers in vast quantities - are in disarray.

Last week I wrote a comment piece for our sister paper, The Independent,
pointing out the hypocrisy that exists within the television industry. As a
former BBC executive and on-screen presenter I could understand both sides
of the sorry Angus Deayton saga. Mr Deayton was sacked for being revealed
as someone who indulges in cocaine and wild sex with more than one person
at once - which many media executives not only indulge in, but turn a blind
eye to. Mr Dacre had not only read my article (and tried to get me to write
a version of it for his publication) but also demanded to know what Class A
drugs I took on a regular basis.

No doubt someone at Associated Newspapers' HQ is compiling a dossier on my
leisure activities, but surely it would be statistically unlikely that I
would never have taken ecstasy or smoked dope. So, yes, dear readers, I
have indulged in the odd E, and have no ill effects to report. Indeed, its
main effect is to make me so unnaturally pleasant to all and sundry that
many friends think it should be prescribed by my doctor on a regular basis.

Along with the fortunes of the Tories and the monarchy, the Daily Mail is
obsessed with "wars". The drugs war, along with "youth out of control" and
"gays taking over", is a regular theme. Hence Mr Dacre's question. But as
Ben Elton points out so perceptively in his latest novel, High Society, the
war on drugs is not only comprehensively lost but not even a battle worth
engaging in. This weekend, up to a million people will be taking ecstasy,
and, for all the effort to downgrade the severity of punishment for
possessing cannabis and small amounts of E, not one person less has been
persuaded not to take drugs. By doing so they not only engage in a criminal
activity, but also feed money into a parallel economy run by criminals who
profit from the current drug laws. Hypocrisy about drugs runs right through
the treatment of Mr Deayton to the vilification of Commander Brian Paddick,
the Metropolitan Police officer formerly in charge of London's Lambeth
borough, who committed two crimes in the world of the Mail: one, to be a
gay high-profile copper, and two, to voice the perfectly reasonable opinion
that his officers could spend their time more profitably than endlessly
arresting people for minor drug offences. Thanks to the Mail, Commander
Paddick currently languishes in a kind of operational limbo, neither guilty
nor innocent, but anyway unable to do a job he was clearly extremely very
good at. Hypocrisy rules once more.

Ben's Rational Farce

In Ben Elton's roller-coaster romp, Labour MP Peter Paget proposes the
decriminalisation of all drugs, from crack to cannabis, something Mr Elton
himself thinks is not only a practical and sensible idea, but ultimately
inevitable. It is the only way to guarantee quality, properly deal with
addiction, and remove the criminal element from drug dealing, as drugs can
be sold over the counter. Drugs can be taxed and be a source of government
revenue. In other words, Mr Elton thinks we should treat drugs in the way
that we treat something that is just as addictive and lethal: alcohol. This
is his drug of choice, but he makes a compelling case for rethinking our
approach to all drugs, abandoning the Class A and B categories and entering
the real world, where, every weekend, people indulge in a cocktail of
chemicals, regardless of how the Government regards their dangers.

Of course, High Society is a farce - it wouldn't be the work of Ben Elton
otherwise - with a list of comic characters including an impossibly stupid
junkie rock star, a luscious House of Commons secretary who proves to be
the downfall of family man Paget, a tragic young Scottish prostitute, and a
clutch of bent coppers taking kickbacks from dealers. At times they can
seem one-dimensional, and any reader can see the happy ending coming a mile
off. But for all that, High Society is a bloody good read, because it's
based on such a rip-roaringly good premise. And Elton is the master of
sniffing out hypocrisy in all its forms.

Novel Servants

Mr Elton's previous novel, Dead Famous, focused on the vacuous world of
television reality shows, such as Big Brother. Now that he's dealt with
drugs, I'd suggest fresh territory to which he might profitably turn his
attention. Servants. From Paul Burrell to Backstairs Billy, the Royal
Family seems to have an extraordinary knack for picking the weirdest
characters as its employees. But it's not just the aristocracy or pop stars
who employ people to "do". In 21st-century Britain, as women have to cope
with careers and families, and the length of the working day is increased
by commu-ting, more of us than ever employ people to come into our homes
and help. Not butlers, but cleaners, nannies, part-time secretaries and
gardeners. And are any of us any better at knowing how to deal with them
than Diana, Princess of Wales or the Queen?

True, we probably don't expect them to stand while we watch TV, or bring
our favourite crockery and rugs into hospital while we're having a
hys-terectomy or whatever, but we might expect them to do our washing and
not blab. I once had a male housekeeper who sold his story to a women's
magazine and the headline news seemed to be the fact that he used to have
to wash my knickers. Luckily he fell off his clogs one day on the way to
work and I had an excuse to pay him off. In modern Britain, the tortured
relationship between boss and hired help seems the perfect follow-up to The
Office, at the very least.