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Mick Hucknall MP. It has a sort of ring about it. Not that a political career is top of his list of New Year resolutions. Just a thought. "it might appeal when I start bringing children into the world. I think it's possible. If things really get on my conscience I might do it.
Since work-in-progress includes a new Simply Red album but no small Hucknalls, we are getting way ahead of ourselves here. Still, it is an intriguing possibility. What, in some future administration, would he be? Perhaps not chancellor. A little bold, I feel.
"For people earning [pounds]80,000 a year, taxes can go up at least 5 per cent. That won't hurt them too much. I think the government will probably do that in the next term. If I'm a very rich man, I should pay very rich taxes.
And of course he is: a multi-millionaire, courtesy of 12 years at the top of the rock industry. Owner of homes in Milan, New York and London. And, as he says, a man of conscience.
Shortly before the election he handed a cheque for [pounds]50,000 to Labour. The least, in his opinion, that someone in his position could do. Well, quite. One wonders whether, when new Labour found itself [pounds]l million in the hole after the Ecclestone debacle, Hucknall might have been tempted to dig deep into his oatmeal suit pockets and make up the shortfall. "I don't have countless millions to throw away. I'm sure they have people with infinitely more money than I have.
But he'll carry on contributing to party funds? "Look, he says, a bit shirtily, "l'm paying 44 per cent taxes. That's an awful lot of money, so I don't have any doubts that I'm making a major contribution back to my society. And I don't dodge. I pay. You know?"
No offshore trusts, then? "l'm sure there are. But it'll all be legal. Whatever I do is legal.
If he sounds cross, it is only because he senses a wind-up. There was a time when he was usually angry with a press sniping at his looks Although Hucknall is the subject of polite reviews ("the most proficient white funk-soul vocalist in the world") and a flogger of many records (two million in Britain alone for Stars, his biggest-selling album), there is a school of thought that sees Simply Red as on the jingly side. Not quite piped-Christmas-music-in-Self-ridges'-ti but perfectly suited to a Ford Escort in-car entertainment system. However groundbreaking his new record may be, Hucknall - never especially clubland cool, never particularly unfashionable - has come to be seen as a sort of people's pop star; a persona entirely suitable for one so eager to do his bit for Tony.
Still, to regard Hucknall as a new Labour luvvie, his social concerns bloated on the champagne and canapes of Downing Street soirees, would be unfair. And anyway, his connections with Blair began long before the election.
"I first met him at the Brits Awards, five or six years ago, when he was shadow home secretary. Ever since then we communicated. I'd fax little notes to him; just messages of support like,'Keep your chin up' or 'Why did the bastards [Tories] do this to you3' Just things to keep him pepped up, and he'd send notes back. I felt ii was such a tough load for him, and he knew how committed I was. When the election was announced we thrashed out some ideas. I did a very good thing [on working-class Manchester] for Newsnight. It confirmed Major's death knell." Blair, no less averse to a bit of cultural cross-dressing, visited Hucknall and his friend Paul Weller in a recording studio. Though worried that Weller's politics might be a touch Scargillite for the leader, Hucknall was reassured. "I felt Tony had a lot of balls. He said:'Hi, I'm here. Ask me what you like.' Grasped the bull by the horns.
And what did Weller do? "Just played the songs.
But surely there came a point when the fares stopped and Hucknall, rich and committed, was delivered up to officials and fundraisers? "Not really. I don't hassle Tony because I don't want anything from him. So it's casual. I'm not going to be all over the guy because he's kinda busy right now. But I'm a very keen supporter and, yeah, I consider myself to be a friend.
Naturally, when an invitation came from Blair's office asking him to give an after-dinner speech at the party conference, Hucknall was flattered. Though a roomful of corporate types might seem less daunting than a packed Wembley arena, it took a stiff cognac with Drambuie chaser to propel him to the stage. The speech, those who saw it say, was both heartfelt and moving. But then Hucknall has never lacked credentials as an authentic working-class hero.
His father, Reg, was a Manchester barber, who brought his soft up single-handed in a small, semi-detached house with no hot water or upstairs heating. Maureen, Hucknall's mother, left when he was three. The first time he saw her face was when the Sun printed her picture after she announced that she wanted to meet her millionaire son. He refused. "I delved deep into my soul. But I had such a happy childhood, and I had to think who was there for me when it counted. I don't have any hatred or ill-feeling or anger. The simple thing is she was no part of my life. I have to care for the people who looked after me and give them the love they deserve. Even in the nineties, it's not easy to find a man who would be prepared to bring up a child on his own. Dad would feel very hurt and injured for me to strike up a relationship with some-one I never knew.
Given his connection with lone parenting, you wonder what Hucknall thinks of the government's squeeze. Or, considering his miserable experience of selective education ("lt was geared for rugby players, bankers and insurance clerks, and I was left feeling completely inadequate"), where he stands on grammar schools.
But his vagueness on realpolitik suggests, rather unsurprisingly,
a man who has spent more of the past six months in the recording
studio than imbibing the wisdom of Titmuss or Tawney or, for that
matter, the Sun leader page. We meet a few days before the
Commons rebellion on single parents, and he says he is not certain
what the new measures will be or what point legislation has got to. On
schools, he offers an enthusiastic, if not ever so specific, critique of
the Blair dream. "The truth of education, education, education is so important,
it's unreal.
This broad-brush approach is not to be confused with denseness, for Hucknall is perfectly bright. It does, however, reopen the question of what he might do should he ever step into politics. Not, I think, a whip, given his optimistic view on allegiance-forming. "The real opposition now is the Paddy party. I don't see how Ken Clarke and Michael Heseltine are going to stay Tory.
"They'll either go with Labour or with Paddy. I think, being neutral, it might be better that they went with Paddy and you had a credible opposition that would sort of like kick the pants off any policies that weren't going well.
As a drugs tsar he might be an altogether sounder Set. "I do sympathise
with the legalise cannabis thing, but we're not addressing
the whole issue of society and drugs. Just doing that with cannabis
isn't enough. There's got to be a multi-pronged attack on killing the romance
of the drug culture. I tried practically everything I know of.
Even heroin? "Yeah. Even before I was famous I decided that wasn't what I wanted. If you could kill-the idea that it was cool, drugs would be available but people would think they didn't really want them. With sex, drugs and rock'n' roll, you're not going to stop people experimenting.
A few weeks have passed since the death of his close friend Michael Hutchence, who never absorbed the gospel of restraint. It is still not known if his end - he was found hanging from a belt behind a hotel door- was accident or suicide. "I got this horrible tingling down my back when I heard. My eyes started to water. It's very shocking to think that someone would do that. But the persona you have to live as a rock star is lion-like - very confident and self-assured. Privately he wasn't that kind of person.
"All kinds of things mounted up on him - criticism of his music,
problems in his private life. I think it was a case of all those things
building up, and the weight becoming unbearable. I wasn't surprised.
Not that I ever thought he was suicidal. But you could see the
vulnerability where something could snap.
The terror, perhaps, of the declining years. And what would happen if Hucknall faced public rejection? "Well, I'd be devastated of course. It would be like someone telling a plumber he couldn't fix pipes any more.
Still, there is always politics; though I fear Hucknall, imbued with a shiny vision of a fairer society, might find it all a little grubby. Besides, his current life seems pretty angst-free. Come Christmas Day, he will be cooking turkey for his dad in one of his several houses. "l'm a very variable person. I don't feel I have to hang on to my working-class roots because my spirit is already there. Like, I feel perfectly capable of eating 200 grammes of beluga caviare and then two days later -having a can of Heinz baked beans. Do you see?"
I feel like saying that I had no idea beluga caviare was quite so
filling. But Hucknall's earnestness does not invite such flippancy. So
yes, I tell him. Of course I know exactly what he means.
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