I thought I’d re-run my London Evening Standard column (published on Thursday) in order to gauge whether other people feel the same way as I do. So here goes...
Am I alone in having some sympathy for Lord Sewel (aka Lord Coke, Lord Sewer, The Cocaine Peer, Baron Sewel of Orange Bra and, doubtless, plenty of nastier nicknames in pubs across the land)?
I am not seeking to contest the Sun on Sunday’s public-interest justification for having exposed the peer for indulging, allegedly, in criminal behaviour.
The very fact of his resignation — first as deputy speaker of the House of Lords and then as a member of the house itself — could imply that the newspaper’s allegations about his having snorted cocaine were factually correct.
Indeed, the film footage, which includes his recorded conversations with the two sex workers ensconced in his rent-protected flat in Dolphin Square, looks like convincing evidence.
But the media hue and cry in the days since the original revelation has been anything but edifying.
It will be argued that unless the press had continued to push him he might well have stayed on in parliament and I concede that is probably true.
Even so, the pages of coverage which have been devoted to this one man’s indiscretions have not ceased.
He has been lampooned in cartoons, held up to ridicule by columnists and been the subject of several leading articles.
In so doing, he has become a national laughing stock. To what end, except adding unnecessarily to his humiliation?
Several editors will surely contend that his actions, viewed in the context of previous indiscretions by a sprinkling of peers, have not only brought the second chamber into disrepute but also enabled important questions to be raised about the need for its radical reform.
I can understand that too, although the calls — the Daily Mirror apart — have been anything but potent.
A couple of political commentators have certainly used the Sewel saga to make valid arguments by pointing out that the Lords is composed of 783 unelected members and will total more than 800 once prime minister David Cameron nominates a raft of new Tory peers.
There is no appetite whatever for Lords reform from within the government nor, it would seem, among most of the opposition parties (the SNP excluded).
Yet here is the irony: although press pressure was responsible for ensuring that Sewel will not return to the Lords’ benches, the same kind of intense, unrelenting and collective pressure will not be brought to bear to ensure reform of the House.
Better to heap ordure over one individual who is already down and out rather than unite to campaign for a constitutional change that would give the public confidence in an institution they regard as archaic and anti-democratic.
There is another element to the Sewel business that is distasteful too, which was raised in the Times by its chief reporter, Sean O’Neill.
Why precisely did the Metropolitan Police feel it necessary to batter down the door of Sewel’s unoccupied flat some two days after the Sun on Sunday’s story in what O’Neill rightly called “gimmicky, knee-jerk headline chasing”?
All in all, and restating my acceptance that law-breaking gave the newspaper a reason for its revelation, it has been awful to witness the resulting feeding frenzy.
The press should act, of course, as a watchdog. But does it also have to be a hound dog?
