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The roots of Martin Bell's involvement in the Tatton election of May 1997 go back to his time as a war reporter in Bosnia in the early 1990s. Whilst he was there, he struck up close friendships with a number of Guardian journalists and became a friend of Paddy Ashdown, leader of the Liberal Democrats, after admiring his stance on the Bosnian conflict.
Guardian journalists Ed Vulliamy, John Mullin, and John Sweeney, for instance, all spent time in Bosnia. Ed Vulliamy later co-authored
The Guardian's book on the paper's 'cash for questions' campaign, Sleaze. John Mullin also had an involvement in
The Guardian's original story. Another left-wing journalist in Bosnia with whom Bell became very friendly was Tom Stoddart, Tony Blair's official photographer during the 1997 general election, and partner of Kate Hoey, Tony Blair's Sports Minister.
But above all, it was the close friendship between Bell and John Sweeney, which began in Sarajevo in the summer of 1992, that conditioned Bell's attitude toward Neil Hamilton. The fact is, Sweeney has been a scathing critic of Hamilton for years, stalking him as if he was some nazi war criminal and Sweeney was Simon Wiesenthal himself.
Why? Who knows. But by his own account Sweeney had developed a loathing for Neil Hamilton, citing (absurdly) his lampooning of fascist dictators as a manifestation of fascist tendencies, rather than a symptom of an irreverent sense of humour. Hamilton's comic strain in this regard is certainly no different to Peter Sellers', John Cleese's, and Mel Brookes's, whose wholesale ridicule of fascists has been applauded universally (except by fascists, that is).
Back in Bosnia's darkest days, between 1991 and 1996, Bell and his Guardian friends spent many evenings whiling away the time at the BBC's headquarters in Sarajevo, philosophising about the great issues of life over a bottle of slivovitz (described by Sweeney as being a cross between anti-freeze and prune juice). So, given Sweeney's special interest in Neil Hamilton, it is impossible to imagine that the comrades 'under fire' would not have discussed
The Guardian's 'cash for questions' story, when it created a storm back home.
On his return from Bosnia, Bell became disenchanted with the BBC and criticised the corporation for its coverage of the war. For Bell 1996 was a lean year, during which he had hardly been given one decent story to cover. In November 1996 he was so unhappy he resigned with effect from 1 January 1997, but a last-minute deal was hatched and he stayed on. But he was unsettled. And his belief in
The Guardian's tales about Neil Hamilton made him ripe for the picking.
On Monday 17 March 1997, Tory Prime Minister John Major prorogued Parliament and announced 1 May 1997 as the date of the General Election. A few days later, Bell attended the election meeting at the BBC. But when he discovered his small role in the election special - covering the result from Malcolm Rifkind's Pentland seat up in Edinburgh, 400 miles away from the action in London - his disenchantment was complete.
On Thursday 3 April 1997, in the midst of his gloom, Martin Bell opened an exhibition of Tom Stoddart's photographs from Bosnia, Edge of Madness, held at the Royal Festival Hall, London. The photos of death and destruction only served to remind Bell of the sterling service he had given the BBC. Afterwards, he joined Stoddart and his friends at the 'People's Palace' restaurant, upstairs.
Sensing his disquiet, Stoddart said over the meal that the Labour Party was looking for someone to stand against Hamilton as an anti-corruption candidate, but that they were running out of time. He suggested that Bell would be perfect for the role. The idea of being thrust into the limelight as a knight on a white charger certainly appealed to Bell's vanity. Nevertheless he did not agree immediately - but his refusal to dismiss the idea betrayed its appeal to him. From then on, Martin Bell was merely a passenger.
After the meal, Stoddart phoned Blair's Press secretary, Alastair Campbell, suggesting that Bell would probably agree, providing the Labour and Liberal Democrats stood down. Campbell instantly phoned the Lib Dems, and thus the two opposition parties conspired to withdraw to give Martin Bell the best possible chance of taking the fifth-safest Conservative seat away from under their feet.
The next day, Friday 4 April, 1997, Bell received a call from Alastair Campbell passing on the telephone number of the Labour Party in Knutsford. Minutes later Bell received a similar call from Liberal Democrat Dick Newby, giving the telephone number of the Knutsford Liberal Democrats. And before the day was out, Bell received a call from his old chum Paddy Ashdown, urging him to take the plunge and offering his full support. It would be the first of many telephone calls between the two.
The next day, Saturday 5 April, 1997, at his Hampstead home, Bell discussed his thoughts over dinner with his old friend from Bosnia, Colonel Bob Stewart, Commander of the Cheshire Regiment. 'Do it', Stewart said. It was all Bell needed to make his mind up.
When he woke up the next morning, Sunday 6 April, Martin Bell knew it was too late to turn back, for clandestine arrangements had already been made. Senior Liberal Democrat Tim Clement-Jones picked up Bell and headed north to Tatton to meet the local party executive, at the Wilmslow home of its chairman, John Talbot.
As Clement-Jones went into private session to persuade them to withdraw - a meeting he described as one of the most difficult of his life - Bell gazed through a rear window at sheep in a field, comparing their simple tranquillity with the racket permeating the house from eleven people having a full-blown row. What was he doing there? he asked himself. But his belief that Neil Hamilton must be corrupt reassured him. Because that justified everything.
When Clement-Jones emerged, the reason for the noise became apparent. It was by a hair's breadth, six votes versus five, that the Liberals had agreed to pull out. But the Labour group would be a lot easier.
Like some scene from a Harry Palmer movie, Clement-Jones then drove Bell from Wilmslow to a pre-arranged rendezvous with a Labour activist in a car park. The car arrived. Bell switched vehicles and was then taken on to another car park where he met Jon Kelly, the Labour Candidate. Then, on to the White Bear pub in Knutsford, for a meeting of the Labour executive. As Kelly joined in the discussion upstairs, Bell sipped an orange juice in the bar, signing autographs for the regulars. One of them asked if he 'was on some kind of secret assignment'. Bell replied that, actually, he was.
The meeting was a long one but the result was much better - just one or two dissenters at most. So, with the agreement of the Labour group and the Liberal Democrats, Bell headed back to Hampstead and to his favourite restaurant and 'home from home', La Gaffe.
The irony probably eludes him to this day.
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