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Saturday, January 21st, 2006

    Time Event
    5:15p
    The Spectator
    The politics of Pleasantville

    Rod Liddle

    There is a sort of golden crescent in London — and they should start doing
    guided tours of it for those of us who don’t live there. It begins way out west
    in leafy Ealing, swings north and east to Notting Hill and Holland Park,
    traverses the gentle inclines of Hampstead, Highgate and Primrose Hill, touches
    the funky little hem of Crouch End and then ends — where perhaps all life should
    end — in Islington, N1. Even if you have never so much as visited London, you
    will be immediately familiar with the names of most of the above mentioned
    ‘villages’: they have become bywords (and in some cases even adjectives) for
    various powerful cliques of people: Hampstead thinkers, the Notting Hill Tories,
    the Primrose Hill set of coked-out celebs, Islington’s beating heart of all that
    is New Labour. But these demarcations, although fun and containing a germ of
    truth, ignore the bigger picture: these places are sociologically,
    demographically and politically identical. They should really be seen as a
    whole, for they are the Pleasantville from wherein the rest of us are ruled; a
    glorious band of red-brick or Georgian villas containing clever, implacably
    active and creative little middle-class monkeys from the media, politics,
    academia, advertising, charities and the law. Chattering agreeably at one
    another over a nice, sharp bottle of Sancerre. And some Fairtrade olives.


    There are, to be sure, small differences in the tone of each ‘village’.
    Ealing, for example, is where the BBC’s top producers end up when they’re too
    well off to stomach the grime of Shepherd’s Bush or Kensal Rise. Genteel
    Hampstead is, by now, slightly de trop (although house prices must have risen
    when the exciting columnist David Aaronovitch moved in a year or so back).
    Islington — by which I do not mean Dalston, but Barnsbury and Upper Street — is
    also beginning to feel a little, you know, 1997: too few Polish restaurants and
    too many Spanish. But by and large, the extremely affluent inhabitants of this
    ten-mile swath of the capital have far more in common than that which divides
    them. Whatever their politics, their core values are identical — and, crucially,
    at odds with much of the rest of the country.


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