Part of me is disappointed that I didn’t get my gong in the New Year’s Honours List. Not that I deserved one, of course, but when my best friend Nick got an MBE a quarter of a century ago, I was fortunate to be invited to Buckingham Palace in order to watch the ceremony. We were sitting in the row just in front of the actor Christopher Lee, who has collecting a CBE. It was all rather surreal when I heard Nick’s name called and up he walked, top hat in hand, in order to collect his award from Queen Elizabeth II. Before the trip to Buck House, we had breakfasted at the Waldorf Hotel and after we took lunch at the Savoy. What were two working class boys from Briz even doing there?
Thumbing, at least metaphorically, through this year’s Honours List and I find that my name is absent. There’s a Chuckle Brother, numerous Captains of Industry, politicians, various sports people and even that most 21st century of professions, the TV presenter, but no me. There is a reason for the absence of my name: I don’t deserve a gong. My near lifetime of paid public service – that is how those awarded gongs are described, as if it’s something special – and my charitable work are things I both had to do in order to put bread on the table and later to help other people, as millions of other people choose to do.
I have nothing against many decent folk who have been awarded honours. Even the dubious ones, like TV chefs, wealthy business folk and modestly talented pop singers, can enjoy their day in the sun. It’s not as if they nominated themselves, is it, and clearly some people thought their efforts worthy of recognition. Fair enough. I just find the inconsistency of the Honours system impossible to get my head around.
Even in my little world, I see good people doing good things, for the sole reason that they like to do good things. We have a small team of elderly folk up our way who are out in all weathers collecting litter. An old friend has spent many years, perhaps even decades, saving people’s lives through Samaritans. Another friend volunteers for Park Runs, which have a positive impact on people’s lives in all sorts of ways. They wouldn’t even dream of getting an honour for what they do, yet the CEO of Sainsbury’s, one Simon Roberts, gets a CBE “for services to the retail industry”, which is another way of saying he was instrumental in increasing the supermarket’s market share and increasing its stock value. Now, being a successful businessman is not exactly a crime and well done Simon, but you then get a major honour for that? Not a mere BEM, which lowly working class people get for doing wonderful things, or even an MBE or OBE. Isn’t he just good at doing his job and isn’t being paid over £5 million a year sufficient reward? Clearly not. Doubtless, Simon will be accepting his award on behalf of the thousands of lowly paid shop workers who have played a role in making the company so successful. This one example illustrates just why the current system is so wrong. Worse than that, it simply cannot be improved.
Just over 1000 people have been honoured this year, which might suggest that the remaining 68 million of us deserve nothing at all. Or that we lack the connections in order to get nominated in the first place. And for every Paul Chuckle, Simon Roberts and the bloke who presents Location Location Location, there are millions who do incredible things who ask for and get nothing, other than the satisfaction of making the world a better place. And no matter how you tried to change things, the simple fact is that any Honours system would be hugely flawed.
Perhaps, it would be better to scrap the whole thing altogether, unless of course I get nominated in which case I will hire a suit and top hate and be a total hypocrite, dedicating my award to the millions of others below me on the greasy pole.
I like the idea of the great Idris Elba becoming a Sir, joining a group that includes Jimmy Savile, Robert Mugabe and, worst of all, Brian May (presumably for services in creating the worst music in the history of rock and roll). But is that really a group he, or anyone else, would want to belong to?
Mind you, I won’t turn it down if this time next year Richard Marinus Johansen was knighted for public service and charitable work. A day out at the Palace would be a just reward for a bang average career of precious little achievement. I did my best, though, even if I didn’t increase the share price of the British civil service, or anything else. See you at the Waldorf and the Savoy in early 2026. You know it makes sense.
