Stephen McGinty: Twin-bed buddies are OK - eh, Dougal?

THERE are two ways in which to examine William Hague's announcement that he shared a hotel bedroom on a number of occasions with his special adviser, Christopher Myers.

The first involves lowering one's spectacles to the bridge of the nose, arching one's eyebrows and then uttering a single word: "really" in a manner that lends it the precise intonation of a question, one on which a weight of innuendo may then be hooked.

Or you can think outside the box, the room, even the goddam hotel and launch a stirring and robust defence of platonic, nocturnal shared sleeping arrangements based on three sound precedents, namely Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise and Fathers Ted and Dougal.

I, as you will gather, have opted for the road less travelled, or the duvet left unmussed. But before opening the bedroom door on our comic trio, are you aware that Jeremy Paxman, politics rottweiler-in-chief shared sleeping quarters with his close friend, journalist turned best-selling author, Robert Harris? Thought not. As thrusting young journos on Newsnight they were despatched to Afghanistan during the Russian occupation and shared a tent, an experience which Paxman said gave a great insight into his friend's character.

While Paxman snuggled into his sleeping bag fully clothed, he watched with increasing bemusement as Harris unpacked a pair of striped pyjamas, a dressing gown, and a pair of slippers, then, once suitably dressed in all but a Willie Winkie nightcap, settled down to await the Sandman's arrival with a hardback biography of Gladstone.

Now it could be argued that Paxman and Harris bunked out of necessity rather than choice, suitable accommodation being scant in times of war, which could also be applied to Laurel and Hardy, who frequently shared a bed during their comic capers which largely consisted of blanket hogging and bed rolling, but this was during the Twenties and later came the Great Depression when bunking with your buddy made strict economic sense.

Convention, however, had changed by the 1970s when Morecambe and Wise embarked on their bed-sharing sketches. The principal concept of the show was that the pair were life-long friends who had grown up together, shared a flat and for comic effect, a bed. Their relationship was a platonic "marriage" in which Ernie was regularly chastised for his stinginess with money and too conservative measures of drink.

Initially, Eric Morecambe was uncomfortable with the bed scenes, in case the audience lowered their spectacles to the bridge of their nose, arched an eyebrow and said: "really?" However he was later convinced by references to Laurel and Hardy's success with the caper, although he did insist that he be permitted to smoke his pipe while in bed, lest anyone doubt his masculinity.

Yet the platonic ideal of the camaraderie enjoyed by sharing a bedroom is best espoused by the denizens of Craggy Island, where Father Ted and Father Dougal shared a room, one decorated as befits their extended adolescence with football posters and dodgy artex. From the comfort of their twin beds they indulged in late-night conversation on Father Dougal's Eurovision song contest entry My Lovely Horse and whether it was right and proper to actually love the horse or best simply to be its friend. Friendship, it was agreed, was best.

One morning, while speculating on the hours of languid nothingness that stretched ahead as they waited for Sunday to roll along once more, Father Dougal coined a wonderful term for their indolence: "the lads' lie-in". Now it's hard to imagine William Hague, who for maximum efficiency divides his hours into 15-minute segments, indulging in such practice on the campaign trail, but let us take him at his word and assume that, like the trend he triggered in baseball caps, this season will see a new vogue and a fresh definition of friendship: the "twin-bed buddy".