Politicians on television

David Miliband, we are told, is keen to swap the constant chatter of political gossip for the more relaxed environment of the television studio. Who can blame him?

After the poisonous final years of the Labour government and the small matter of being beaten to the party leadership by his younger brother, life on the small screen must sound like the easy option. Except, it isn’t. Not always. Because for every televisual career resurrection, there is an embarrassing meltdown.

Harold Wilson at least had two stints as prime minister on his CV before deciding to try his hand at television. A cringing performance on the 1978 Morecambe and Wise Christmas special was followed by a spell hosting chat show Friday Night, Saturday Morning, but Wilson was no natural in front of the camera.

The critic Clive James suggested that the former prime minister “read the autocue as if it was the Rosetta Stone arranged on rollers” and, not surprisingly, Wilson lasted for just two shows.

Former Tory MP Matthew Parris was wooed into a career in TV after a well-received appearance on World in Action. However, after two years presenting Weekend World the programme was cancelled, with Parris later admitting that he was “instantly uncomfortable” and not “sensational” enough to save the programme.

But before Miliband gets too gloomy, there are rather more encouraging examples for him to follow. Parris was following in the footsteps of Brian Walden, who quit Parliament for what proved to be a successful TV career.

Where Wilson chose to interrogate the likes of ex-Goon Harry Secombe, his one-time Labour colleague Shirley Williams went rather more highbrow for her 1980 BBC series, In Conversation with Shirley Williams. Her interviews with former prime ministers Edward Heath and James Callaghan were successes, with Williams’ early career as a journalist clearly evident.

Former Tory MP Michael Portillo, himself a failed party leadership candidate, may offer the greatest hope for Miliband. Debuting with a BBC2 documentary on great railway journeys, and moving on to his BBC4 series Dinner with Portillo, Portillo then established himself as one part of This Week’s political punditry duo with Diane Abbott, herself an example of a politician succeeding on television.

Miliband would probably prefer to follow the Portillo model, but he might well settle for Abbott’s lesser achievements, given the more exotic route taken by some politicians.

In 2006, viewers were treated to the sight of a lycra-clad George Galloway, at the time the Respect Party’s sole representative in Parliament, pretending to lap milk from the cupped hands of his Celebrity Big Brother co-star Rula Lenska, while Liberal Democrat maverick Lembit Opik celebrated his eviction from Parliament with an appearance on ITV’s jungle-based reality show I’m a Celebrity: Get me out of here! Opik hoped that his party leader Nick Clegg would see his appearance as a “colourful contribution to the profile of the Liberal Democrats”.

This may have been optimistic. “Do I think Lembit’s walking a tightrope? Yes I do,” said Clegg when asked about his former colleague’s TV career. More recently our screens have been graced by a foxtrotting Ann Widdecombe. Once an uncompromising Home Office minister, Widdecombe shuffled her way to the quarter finals of Strictly Come Dancing, before finding herself voted off the show and being described as “a Dalek in drag” by one of the judges.

Not to be put off, Widdecombe declared her appearance to be “life-enhancing”. The opposite was probably the case for Labour MP Austin Mitchell – a former TV presenter – after his appearance on Channel 4’s Tower Block of Commons. Tory Tim Loughton revealed himself to be a terrible dancer in one memorable trip to a local nightclub, but he at least showed himself to be willing and adept at living on a council estate. Mitchell was rather less impressed: “A disgrace – to Channel 4 for putting it out; to Love Productions for its cynical distraction from the real story; to me for taking part in the first place.”

So while his recent political experiences probably leave David Miliband thinking that television sounds like a safe option, he should proceed cautiously.

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