The agony of Tony and the joy of Gordon

A VICAR I once knew observed that only at Christmas did his parishioners almost become Christian. In just the same way, when politicians get sick or have babies, their opponents become almost charitable. They call a truce, drop the swords and say decent things.

Towards Gordon and Sarah Brown, the warmth and the gladness are unalloyed, I am sure. Gordon looked like a man transformed, saying in wonderment that fatherhood is more important than anything else; and absolutely believing it.

We can now expect him to behave differently, for children bring out the best in their parents, triggering something like true unselfishness. The electorate should benefit from a child-friendly Chancellor, with parenting receptors finely tuned and sensitised. I’m pleased they used the NHS maternity services, and feel confident that young John will go through the state education system. My best wishes to them, and may there be more arrows for their quiver.

THE general sympathy for Tony seemed a bit more tokenish, I thought. An ailing leader is always eyed rather speculatively, for the repercussions can be huge, and usually the implications for the people are not good.

Obsessional secrecy is the first reaction, after the impact of the breaking news. I wonder how much determination he used to get himself discharged so rapidly - and after a general anaesthetic, too. Did they ask him to sign the self-discharge slip, taking on responsibility for his own rash action? That could become a collector’s item.

Leaders in the past whose health really has failed them have tended to cling to power, becoming more authoritarian in the process.

Behind the emollient phrases about no danger, no damage, feeling fine and only a brief respite, we may be sure that this brush with ill-health has shaken him to the very core. Cherie is talking about too much coffee; a sensible response, and no doubt meant to look like a simple remedy for a simple condition. Tony does not smoke or drink and seems to do all the right things - apart from avoiding stress. And that is addictive.

He will not be considering handing over to virile Gordon, that’s for sure.

DAVID Blaine’s potty antics did not interest me much. In my cold-shower way, I thought life has plenty of more rational risk-taking opportunities and arduous endeavours, without manufacturing some such trial so utterly useless except as a publicity stunt. But when he emerged after his 44 days, four stones lighter, pale, enfeebled, confused and looking like a latter-day mystic, it occurred to me how he might be seeking those strange out-of-body experiences known to our ancestors of the shamanic class.

Tens of thousands of years ago, vision-questing was a regular activity, related to religion, and achieved by isolation - often in caves - starvation, enduring cold, discomfort and lack of sleep and enhanced by hallucinogenic plants. The trances were known to many diverse ethnic peoples, some using dance, drum-beats and intoxicants to induce altered consciousness, and often visions were recorded graphically in the form of rock-art.

Such experiences could have a powerful impact, inducing a feeling of having learned great things from communing with spirits on a higher plane of existence. The shamanic visionaries were revered and exalted among their fellow tribesmen.

Like another famous fasting solitary, Blaine was taunted by devils who tried to get him to break his fast with eggs and airborne temptations; and, true to type, he claimed to have learned many marvels, implying that these experiences raised him above the generality of ordinary mortals. He even imparted his blessing as he was stretchered away: "I love you all forever." There is nothing new under the sun.

YOU hardly expect controversy in a wildlife photography competition. But there is resentment among animal activists that this year’s award-winning picture from the BBC’s Wildlife magazine is of a gorilla in a zoo. He is magnificent, and you are only made aware of his imprisonment by a mistily-focused boy gazing wistfully at him.

Images captured by outdoor photographers are stunning, conveying both beauty and knowledge, but often at a massive cost of patience, endurance and cunning. So it does seem doubly sneaky that this image in captivity has claimed the honours. The programme notes eulogise craftsmanship and harmony and other verbiage about which creature is the captive. It is all too self-consciously artistic, and the very antithesis of what the activity is all about: knowing your subject’s habits and habitats, chasing elusive images in fragile climates, trying to capture them without intruding and altering the state of nature, I’d have thought.