For the record: I'm not the new Tory party chairman, the new presenter of Newsnight, or Polly Toynbee

MATTHEW PARR IS

Having narrowly avoided a shock appointment to the Tory chairmanship last Wednesday, I woke up on Thursday to hear I was a front-runner to co-present Newsrught, and already under attack by staff. Next, the nation's media appeared to make a collective decision that I am Polly Toynbee. I am not Polly Toynbee. I don't want Jeremy Vine's job. I couldn't chair a fund-raising meeting for the church organ, let alone the Conservative party. What a blessing it is to have a column in The Spectator to correct the record. One wonders how other folk manage.

First the Tory chairmanship. Always steer clear of College Green at times of Tory unrest: that little lawn across the road from Parliament becomes a semi-permanent encampment for media crews whenever MPs are in the news. It provides the perfect political cliché as background for any television picture: Big Ben and the mock-gothic folly called the Palace of Westminster. Foolishly I was on College Green this week to record a short interview with Meridian Television about the demise of David Davis.

I was gabbling away as required when my interviewer became aware of a Meridian colleague nearby with a separate camera crew, desperately signalling at him. He stopped the interview. 'Get Matthew over here quick! Quick,' yelled his colleague.

I sprinted over. It seems this other camera crew were about to broadcast live — but without their interviewee. Meridian viewers had just been told that their news programme was going over now to College Green for an interview with the new chairman of the Conservative party. The new chairman had failed to turn up, and the people on the Green had been unable to deflect the programme's running order in time.

'Quick,' said their presenter to me, 'they're expecting the Tory chairman. Stand here and say something.'

'Say what?' I asked, plonking myself in front of the camera.

'Anything.'

One can always say something. I braced myself to spout. Cantering wildly towards us down the path in her spike-nosed kitten heels. Theresa May could now be seen, about 100 yards away.

'Quick,' said the presenter, 'she's here. Get off.'

I got off. It had been as close as that. Sauntering away, I reflected that it was as well I missed making it into Meridian's slot for the Tory chairman. It never does to create a false impression.

Twelve hours later I fled the field again. The Guardian was reporting that the hunt was on for a hard-hitting television interviewer to take over as co-presenter of Newsnight, now that Jeremy Vine was to he the new Jimmy Young on BBC Radio Two. Three names were in the frame, the first two being Andrew Neil and Rosie Boycott. The third was mine. Newsnight staff were apparently outraged, describing Rosie and me as 'lightweights'. Rebellion was brewing among staffers, who were determined we should not succeed.

While I was puzzling over this, not having been aware of my application for the job, messages started appearing in my mobile telephone's recorded message bank. 'Hello, this is a message for Polly Toynbee. I'm Emma from Carlton Television. We're wondering if you could come on our London Programme on Monday to talk about pigeon mess in Trafalgar Square. . . . ' A contact number was left.

Briefly I toyed with the idea of pretending to be Folly's agent and demanding £2,000 to be against pigeon mess and £5,000 to be in favour of it. Or of ringing them to say that Polly was indisposed but I happened to know Matthew Parris had strong views on the subject which, for a fee, he would be happy to share with metropolitan viewers. I do not know Polly all that well, hut I rather think this pigeon debate was an opportunity she might have wanted to pass up. As I prepared to telephone Carlton and explain that I was not Polly Toynbee, my mobile rang again. Another message from another TV researcher. Would Polly join a debate on what Americans think of Canadian men? I think she wouldn't, frankly, but that is not for me to decide.

The next day the Daily Telegraph repeated the story about my job application for Newsnight, kindly omitting the references to my being lightweight.

I am blessed with candid friends. Two rang within hours, begging me to reassure them that this was not true. Both said Newsnight staffers were absolutely right. As one friend put it, 'I think you might be OK on a slow news day, interviewing a profes.sor and a Green party activist about wind-power, but you're hardly the man to floor the Prime Minister with a single punch; and as for the Tories you'd probably feel too sorry for them to ask any difficult questions.' This is true, but I did not need telling. I came to the same conclusion years ago after leading Weekend World to its grave in two short years.

So why the newspaper story? I have never applied to co-present Newsnight. I have never been asked if I would like to copresent Newsnight. I have never indicated the slightest interest in co-presenting Newsnight. I do not have the slightest interest in co-presenting Newsnight. If invited to apply I should decline, and if appointed I should resign. I fly from the possibility as the healthy fly from the leper's bell.

The confusion may have arisen like this: some time ago the Newsnight editor did telephone to ask if I was interested in doing the occasional spot of guest-presenting. I replied that I doubted my suitability for this, but might try a little light interviewing, possibly after October, when I had an autobiography coming out which was keeping me busy until then. 'Fine,' said the editor,

'maybe be in touch towards Christmas.'

It never crossed my mind that there was any link here with the departure of Jeremy Vine, And now here I am slugging it out with the likes of Andrew Neil and Rosie Boycott. Or was. The episode has persuaded me that the vanity of guest-presenting on television is best renounced altogether, so I rang Newsnight to say so.

I doubt I am missing much. The art of the political interview is cramped at present. The science of marketing has so wrecked spontaneity and openness in political communications, and so undermined trust, that politicians — told by their minders to 'take control' and 'deliver' a 'message' — have become incapable of proper public discussion. There is nothing left for it but to bash them on the head until they say yes to what everybody knew was the truth anyway. Only the Paxman technique — 'Why is this lying bastard lying to me?' — works. Andrew Neil could do it well. Brian Hayes, sometimes rather overlooked as a tough and intelligent interrogator, could do it too. I couldn't. I haven't the stomach. I can tell when an interviewee is dodging, and so can any intelligent listener, so why rub it in? Life is sweet. Life is short. Too sweet to spend one's evenings interviewing a Tory chairman; too short to spend one's days being one. In the next life, can I be Polly?

Matthew Parris is a political columnist of the Times.