Opinion / Robert Bound
Toupee or not toupee?
Yesterday in Westminster pageantry was the order of the day as the Queen performed the ceremonial state opening of parliament, a piece of political theatre at which the monarch sets out the UK government’s plans. It’s a good sort of gaudy: thrones, frock coats, gold braid and sashes, epaulettes and plumes, fluffy ruffs, court shoes, stockings and wigs. And that’s just the men (in fact, it’s mainly the men). Pity the dull accountability of a republic.
But there was one hairpiece less than there should have been. The new speaker of the House of Commons, the vital parliamentary umpire who invites members to speak and propose legislation, couldn’t find his wig – an optional accessory steeped in history. Apparently, the speaker’s rug was last seen 20 years ago (before major refurbishment work at the Palace of Westminster) and has been shunned by a succession of speakers since then. The last incumbent, John Bercow – recently seen shouting his catchphrase, “Ordeeeeeeeer!” on an Italian chat show – opted not to wear the wig, feeling that going without it made parliament appear “marginally less stuffy and forbidding”. By contrast, the new speaker, Sir Lindsay Hoyle, fancied cutting a bit of 18th-century dash – but the cupboard was bare.
During his term, should Sir Lindsay wear a wig? What signals does wig-wearing send out? Can democracy survive? The answers to the above are: a) Yes, definitely; b) Cut-and-dried legal correctitude with a side order of camp and c) We live in fear. For some reason there doesn’t seem to be a backup wig. Democracy really is broken.