A vintage viscount

Alan Rusbridger

John Clotworthy Talbot Foster Whyte- Melville Skeffington, the 13th Viscount Massereene and Ferrard, was not quite himself on Thursday 3 March, as you might perhaps guess from the following abrupt ex- change: Viscount Massereene and Ferrard: The noble Lord is out of order; this is the Report stage of the Bill.

Lord Bellwin: No, this is the committee stage.

Viscount Massereene and Ferrard: Yes, so it is; I am sorry.

A little later, the Viscount got into something of a muddle in the course of sug- gesting that the unemployed should receive petrol vouchers for travelling to job inter- views. Lord Sefton of Garston was moved to comment: 'Someone suggested to me once that the House of Lords is not of this world. That speech has just demonstrated it.'

In the context of the Upper House, this is blood all over the walls. It is superfluous to say that the House of Lords is a gentleman- ly place, but it is a rare thing for even the most senile, rambling peer to attract any form of interruption, let alone the sort of rebuff meted out by Lord Sefton of 'This is Miranda, my Greenham-common- law wife.' Garston. Whoever imagined that Viscount Massereene and Ferrard was of this world anyway? His admirers know him to be of quite a different world. In a sentence, and to borrow one of the Viscount's own strik- ing images, he belongs to a world in which one could safely leave an unlocked parked car in the centre of London with suitcases in it.

Massereene and Ferrard on a good day, for otherwise it will be difficult to appreciate the concern that one feels on reading a

But, straight away, let us get a flavour of

Lord Sefton of Garston's outburst. The following contribution to the committee stage of the Wildlife and Countryside Bill M 1981 is quintessential Massereene and Fer- rard. He is talking of bulls: 'The only annoying thing which happen- ed to me — cattle are very inquisitive — was when one shorthorn of mine went to in- vestigate a hiker's tent. They were not there, and he got tangled up in the guY ropes, and somehow unfortunately got a frying pan attached to his horn. This was extremely annoying for the cows, because whenever he tried to get near them theY heard this thing banging and fled. It was also very annoying for me, because I could not get a cow served, and in the end the poor bull had to be shot. 'I have had some extremely endearing bulls. I had one Ayrshire bull down in Kent who was extremely friendly. One day he walked into a wedding reception in the village hall. He was, of course, perftlY ec harmless but caused a bit of a panic: I believe he also knocked over the wedding cake.' Vintage. Indeed, the passage of the Wildlife and Countryside Bill through the Lords in the spring of 1981 was a vintage period altogether for Massereene arid. Fer- rard and he spoke no fewer than 77 times; Again he is talking of bulls: 'It is no g°°°I putting up notices saying "Beware of the Bull" because very rude things are . sometimes written on them. I have fouria

that one of the most effective notices is "Beware of the Agapanthus".' And here he is talking of catapults: 'The only time I fired a catapult as a boy was at a sparrow in London. I got into awful trouble. It went through somebody's bathroom window and hit an old man on the head while he was in the bath. My father got the blame.' The anecdotal tone is the hallmark. There are few subjects to which their lord- ships turn their minds during the course of any Year upon which Massereene and Fer- rard will not feel himself qualified to speak, and few that he will be unable to embellish With a short narrative drawn from his own experience.

Not the more eye-catching experiences, mind you. He is tantalisingly brief on how he came to drive the leading British t ar in the 1937 Le Mans Grand Prix or how he came to be presenting Countess Maritza at the Palace Theatre. But it is seldom that he will touch on trade union legislation or the decline of British industry without referring to the time he once owned a small factory. It was a plastics factory in Deal and he is fond of telling how he acquired it sort of by mistake. Then, another day, he will an- nounce that he once had an interest in tramp steamers. Again, he will begin a deer debate with the statement: 'My lords, I think I should begin by declaring my in- terest, which is probably fairly well known. I own a deer forest.'

It must then have been with a certain keen- ness of anticipation that their lordships awaited Massereene and Ferrard's contribu- tion to the debate on the Brixton distur- bances. He did not disappoint them. 'My Lords,' he began, 'I think I am the only Member who has spoken today who -had apcultural estates in Jamaica.' Pure finesse. He kept it up: 'I went there regular- ly for 12 years after the war, and so I got to know the people extremely well. In all the time I went out there I never came across any riots. The only riots I came across were riots of joy on the estate, because when I ar- rived I always gave a big barbecue for all the children and the people and it was a riot of joy., You believe him. It would be. Sadly, not all his experiences with black people have been so happy: 'I recall that when in- dependence was coming certain things hap- pened: for example, on one occasion when I was parking my car in Kingston — actually my estate was on the west coast of Jamaica, Whereas Kingston is on the east coast — I asked a black man if he would mind back- 14 his car a few feet to enable me to park mine, and he said: "You want me to do that Only because you are white and I am black". I replied: "Don't be so silly. Nothing of the sort. If you don't want to move I will find somewhere else to park."

ut once that sort of attitude crept in I felt it was time to leave.'

„ There is something of the Don't Be So Silly in most of what Massereene and Fer- rard has to say on any given topic. He is a fervent believer in common sense, a corn-

modity which, to his never-ceasing despair and wonder, he finds to be in remarkably short supply — even, it has to be said, amongst his fellow peers. There is no dis- ingenuousness or irony about the frequent preface: 'I am a simple man'.

Prisons, for instance. 'Would not the commonsense method to do away with overcrowding in prisons be to build more prisons?' he asks. 'It would also provide more employment. It seems to me a very simple problem.' Or (from June 1979) British Rail: 'If you travel by British Rail you find the trains are often late. And what is the usual excuse? The usual excuse is shortage of staff. God Almighty! When there are nearly one and a half million peo- ple unemployed what is the excuse for shor- tage of staff? It does not add up.'

To the 68-year-old Massereene and Fer- rard there are more and more things about the world today that do not add up, and he does not mind admitting it. Each speech is an enchanting mixture of dogmatism and bewilderment. 'I am rather ignorant on this matter . .. It is not quite my line of country ... Perhaps I am missing the point ... I may not have read the Bill properly.'

For the plain fact of the matter is ... well, Massereene and Ferrard put the plain fact of the matter himself in the foreword to his book on the House of Lords in 1973: 'I have witnessed the swift disintegration of everything the word "British" once stood for and I have seen the world, in conse- quence, become a poorer place.' You see? Massereene and Ferrard is not of this world: he is a throwback to another world; the world, for shorthand's sake, of Sir Richard Hannay and Sir Edward Leithen.

'We are on a 100 per cent wicket here ... I shall change the bowling for three or four minutes and speak on ... I will now change horses and speak for a few minutes on ...' He certainly speaks like a Buchan hero. He thinks like a Buchan hero: 'It always amazes me that so many people actually think that 56 million of us can live in this country by hanging out each other's washing. And, of course, almost every detail of his life fits: Eton, Black Watch, Monday Club, Scottish estates, field sports, Carlton, Turf, Pratt's, Royal Yacht Squadron. (His coat of arms, appropriately enough, sports two stags, no fewer than six bulls and, inappropriately enough, a mer- maid combing her hair in a mirror.) He is popular, he is charming, and by way of a final, endearing idiosyncrasy, he has a stammer which in his public speaking he has learned to cope with by the liberal use of the word 'actually'. His record, so far as anyone knows, is 211 in one speech. (It is impossible to be certain about this, for Hansard writers are under standing orders to excise the word from the official record.) And yet he is attacked by Lord Sefton of Garston. One might choose to ignore Lord Sefton of Garston's attack were it not for the fact that it is but one recent instance pf Massareene and Ferrard's colleagues in the Upper House indulging in public displays of impatience with his contributions. Only last year Lord Molloy, in an outburst of passion rare in the second chamber, accused Massereene and Ferrard of 'jumping up and making silly statements'.

Over the years, it must be said, the Lords and Ladies who grace Parliament have seldom shown signs of taking Viscount Massereene and Ferrard's speeches over- seriously. But that an increasing number of peers should begin to greet them with ill- concealed sarcasm and plain ill manners is a disturbing trend. They should realise that Viscount Massereene and Ferrard, to a greater extent than many of them, is an en- dangered species and that his admirers — an esoteric, but growing band — will be monitoring future developments carefully before deciding whether more urgent measures are needed to protect that species. As a first step, an approach will be made to the Lord Chancellor, Lord Hai'sham, whose preface to Massareene and Ferrard's book on the House of Lords stated, more eloquently than we could hope to do, what many of us feel: 'One hopes that Viscount Massereene and Ferrard will never be reformed'.

Alan Rusbridger is Diary Editor of the Guardian.