and finally...


An existential threat to political cartoonists


Pity the struggling satirists as public figures turn into parodies of themselves, says Chris Proctor


C


an you believe that John Major is interesting? Fascinating? Colourful, even?


I heard him being interviewed the other day and I was staggered to discover that this is more than a possibility: his father was part of a circus act; his mother was a dancer; he left school at 15; and he’s a cricket- oholic. I’d always assumed he’d emerged fully formed from the colourless fog of a bland suburb. So why was I astonished to find out he can be interesting? The two-word answer is ‘Steve’ and ‘Bell’. Then-Guardian cartoonist Steve


painted Major a particularly dry and mediocre grey. Apart from a short and shady time in the sun 15 years ago care of EL James, the function of grey has been to exude dull. When Steve made Major grey, it coloured his entire future. Next to John, dishwater took on a fascination. Steve added underpants outside trousers to complete the portrait, but the essential message was Major’s greyness. It became him. No amount of Caribbean bronzing when supporting the Poms could even tinge his gunmetal hue. He was stuck with it. Two hundred years before, something similar happened to Napoleon. He didn’t become grey but cartoonist James Gillray shaved a few feet off his height. In reality, Napolean was average for the time at five foot six – but Gillray and others made him tiny. They drew him smaller than his hat and pictured him struggling to reach the table to eat his dinner.


His diminutive size was the spur for


a dubious psychological condition – the Napoleon complex – that holds that shorter men are more aggressive. Toward the end of his life, the former emperor lamented that Gillray’s caricatures ‘did more than all the armies of Europe to bring me down’. His size and Major’s anti-magnetism


were both hugely untrue. Even on the Trump scale, they were fabrications – until cartoonists made them true – as they did with Blair’s evil eye and King Charles’ protuberance of pinna. Some public figures are helpful, like


Boris Johnson and Jacob Rees-Mogg. Boris was God’s Christmas gift to caricaturists, offering a cornfield head of hair, a plump form and a penchant for wearing someone else’s clothes. His suits were always made to measure but clearly not for him. He was almost too easy. Rees-Mogg was demonstrably too easy and cartoonists and then the public gave up on him. Starmer is a terrible disappointment


and may have to be replaced. Lefties in general have been poor subjects. Even Jeremy Corbyn has an irritating habit of talking in a sensible voice when he should be ranting. I did once meet him on Leeds railway station dressed in a forage cap and a camouflage suit (him, not me). I explained the point of camouflage, and that in Yorkshire a flat cap might be more appropriate, but he was on his way to a student meeting and in a hurry, as he usually is when he meets me. He left me puzzled. If you have an audience in front of you, is it a good idea to dress to hide yourself? But the story does reveal that Jeremy has, in the past, at least considered caricature. Perhaps Tories are just better at providing satirists with fodder. They must practise often and they certainly start early. You have only to look at the


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Boris was God’s Christmas gift to caricaturists. His suits were made to measure but clearly not for him. He was almost too easy


Young Conservatives: cartoonists’ dreams to a lord and lady. They make every effort to subject themselves to ridicule and, to be fair, they do it well. Kemi Badenoch said this year’s Tory conference was ‘rammed with young Conservatives who were bringing a real buzz’. Perhaps she’s never encountered a buzz; those assembled didn’t look to me a cadre likely to win over Generation Z. But for the illustrator – manna. They turned up in outfits modelled on fading sepia prints of Victorians, all tweed, moustache and umbrella, or in black pencil skirts, clipboards and Gucci bags, or in neat suits whose effect was destroyed by a golf cap calling for Britain to be made great again. The Boss is clearly a great fan. She adopted a look of outrage as she reported on discussions she had held with the more academic of the youngsters. She had been told, she said, that many Young Conservative students were ‘marked down by lecturers because of their beliefs’. Maybe. Or maybe they’re thick. Farage is even worse. He’s a threat to our cartoonists’ jobs because he spends all day being a mobile caricature. If you were setting out to draw him you’d think ‘silly grin, shooting jacket, lounge-bar louche lizard, pint of ordinary, back-slapper, mouth open’. All of which is no use because that is exactly what he’s like anyway. You might as well use photos. Trump recently took this a step further with a cunning pre-emptive strike tactic. He popped up wearing his serious face and told journalists, ‘Words are very important, and can lead to unintended consequences.’ Cartoonists across the globe were


dumbstruck. You don’t expect to find the president of the world doing your job for you.


theJournalist |23


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