Standing for parliament
James Bond has a living legacy in Belgium
Image: Freilich was funny to ensure discretion. At least everyone knows his number now.
I never stood for parliament. Well, not quite true, in a number of respects.
I once stood for parliament in a mock election. At 18, I was returned as the member for Woodhouse Grove School, the same day Mrs Thatcher made PM. For the same party. Woodhouse Grove School is no typical constituency, but it was that day.
Naturally I stand for parliament every day of my life: well, we all have our cross to bear, even if it lies through its back teeth. What option do we have? Let’s not go there.
The parliamentary members in Belgium are ordinary guys and gals with an extraordinary job: they make the laws that govern the rest of us; and them, sometimes, as well. They are government of the people, by the people, from among the people. Nice people.
There was one in Britain, and his name was Aiken and he played, not on a ladle but in the dock. He did more good for Arab businessmen than he ever did for Britain. He’s pally with a certain Crown Prince. He unsheathed a sword but held fast to the blade and cut himself.
James Bond, a fictional character and far more colourful than any real spy, with licence to break laws rather than make them, is now the inspiration for a very ordinary Belgian parliamentarian. Here, they get to register their cars with a special number that makes them easy to spot. Why, I’m not sure, but it sounds like a tax perk, or some “get off a yellow line free” card. Anyhow, what I didn’t know, till now, is that their vehicles remain registered under their old number at the same time, which one day someone steeped in Belgian constitutional or road-traffic law will explain to me but at present remains a “Really?” issue.
His two numbers are mounted on a device that swirls, thus changing the displayed number accordingly. This he does, in his own words, in order to secure parking at the parliament. But not when he’s on holiday. Then he’s ordinary. Not James Bond.
The traffic institute say it’s okay. Because he has two numbers. The rest of us don’t, so we can’t do that. He obtained the device from China and was asked by a reporter (get ready to cringe) whether he feared China would be spying on him. Take a minute to think that over, or at least as much time as the reporter didn’t take before asking that question. The man, Freilich by name (“Freely”), replied, er, no. No, China does not spy on Belgian MPs using technology built into a number-plate-changing device. I wonder if he knows what means they do use?
It's all a bit silly. No, Freilich wouldn’t try to change the number mid-journey at speed in order to fox a distance speed control. Maybe, if it jammed, he’d get two tickets? But, James Bond could. He did it in – forget the name of the film. Freilich says he’s done it to be funny. Ha, ha. I never saw Bond park in a privileged parking spot identified by his number. But, if he did, wouldn’t it be identified by his number? Or a parking permit glued in the corner of his windscreen? I mean, “Really?” just became “WTF?”
I don’t know what they cost and I don’t much care, but if you can afford one of these gadgets, you’re overpaid. And, by any standard, you’re not “ordinary”, “funny” or in a wrangle with the world’s issues of today.
God help parliamentarians. What option do we have? Ah, yes, that …
Every election is a mock election.