THE VIEW FROM HEREBACK in the Sixties, a dreadful, if effective, advertising campaign bore the slogan "Top People Take The Times." Nobody in those days really batted an eyelid at this promotion for self-swankery.
I might have supposed things had changed until, over the festival weekend, I saw a monster of a car, all gleaming jet paint, great chrome jaws at the front, and blacked-out windows. Its windscreen bore a badge which proclaimed this ghastly bit of kit to be VIP transport.
It’s interesting you don’t get IP transport. Nobody advertises themselves as merely important. They always have to be very important.
I had imagined, in my innocence, the ludicrous notion of a Very Important Person had disappeared around the time the Black and White Minstrels were kicked into touch.
Not so, apparently.
But who are they exactly, these Very Important People? And do they feel no embarrassment at sitting in cars which describe them as such?
I peered through the windows of the vehicle but it seemed to be empty.
Or maybe, as the car was in Sainsbury’s petrol station at the time, the very important people were crouching on the floor, fearful at being spotted among the fuel pumps and Snicker Bars.
In any case, I can’t think of anybody connected with the festival who might be described as a VIP. Talented, entertaining, rich, famous, all these things. But not very important, not in the general scheme of things.
I’m afraid we’ve confused importance with wealth and celebrity and being on the telly.
And surely it’s not people who are important, it’s what they do. Things such as brokering peace deals, protecting the vulnerable, fighting injustice, relieving suffering.
Important things done by people such as Mother Teresa or civil-rights lawyer Clive Stafford-Smith, or that tired-looking woman who’s nursed her husband through Alzheimer’s for the past 20 years.
I can’t imagine Mother Teresa would have wanted a VIP badge on her travels but, if the moniker makes the celebs happy, let them enjoy this absurd pleasure.
I’m with a very nice man I know who told me if he bought a car which happened to have his initials on its number plate, he’d ask for the registration to be changed.
Me, too. And if I ever found myself in a car that said it was VIP transport, it would either have to be a very bad dream or a monumental cock-up.
Either way, I’d get out and take the bus.
Third time lucky for this very old school?
A COUPLE of weeks ago, my colleague Percy Sutson pointed out the unfortunate spelling error on the plaque which had been made to mark the 400th anniversary of the founding of Newport Grammar School.
The first version had "Grammer" but the stonemasons assured him a new plaque would soon be in place.
Now, how can I put this delicately to our hapless stonemason?
You’ve got "Grammar" OK, then? Well, that’s good. But I’m afraid you’ve made another bish. I wish I didn’t have to mention this but we must maintain the Island’s educational standards.
I therefore regret to tell you there’s actually no such word as "quadricentenary".
I bet it took you ages to carve that one out. Fifteen letters, including that nice Q with the curly tail. Such a terrible pity but facts are facts.
Margot Charlton, spokesperson for the Oxford English Dictionary, confirms that, although the 20-volume OED has around 300,000 entries, quadricentary is not one of them.
"The correct word is 'quatercentenary’," she says firmly.
Perhaps you were thinking of "quadricentennial"? That exists but it’s not really the same, is it?
Look, let’s have another go. Third time lucky, eh? Don’t even attempt quatercentenary. You’ll only get in a muddle with the correct number of Rs.
Just put "Very old school" and leave it at that. Everyone will understand.