| What an elegant party! The Press
Complaints Commission's glittering bash this week m celebrate its tenth
anniversary was the nearest London gets to high society. In a gathering too
close m imitate for comfort, the PCC succeeded in bringing together Prince
William, the heir to the throne, his father, Prince Charles, the royal mistress.
Camilla Parker-Bowles. as well as pop stars, super-models, cabinet ministers,
senior civil servants and other admirers. The one thing this different group had in common was that most of them had sought the protection of the PCC over the past decade. Their principal tormentors, the editors of the nation's tabloid newspapers, were there in force to greet their victims, so it was not surprising that a certain tremble swirled around the party. That so many prominent upper circles turned up to devour the PCC's canape5 and rub shoulders with the royals is. no doubt, a triumph for its chairman. Lord Wakeham. He can fairly claim to have restored confidence in self-regulation and saved the press from privacy legislation. A skilled political fixer, he has used his chairmanship m pressure the press barons such as Rupert Murdoch into enclosing their editors. The PCC's code of conduct, drawn up by a panel of editors, is generally observed. Press standards have improved and complaints have fallen by nearly a third over the past five years. The industry, which not so long ago was said to be "{{U}}drinking in the last-chance saloon{{/U}}", with self-regulation in terminal disrepute, is grateful. The party was meant m celebrate this success. The soap stars and the models, judging by the amount of drink going down their throats, certainly 9njoyed themselves, as did the editors. But whether Prince Charles and Prince William were wise to associate themselves with this lot is doubtful. "Never sup with the enemy" is a good motto. At least the royals could tell who to avoid because all the guests had name tabs. Lord Wakeham, who helped get rid of Lady Thatcher without her even knowing, is a skilled operator. But this luxury party has given an opening to those critics who claim he is too close to the industry and too protective of the powerful. "We're here to protect the vulnerable" was the slogan of a big banner that greeted the guests. That was not the main impression the evening made on the minds of those who staggered out of the grandeur of Somerset House, high on champagne and celebrity. The truly vulnerable were nowhere to be seen. |