A Journey of Discovery

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Excitement shoots through a community like an electrical pulse when a Hollywood film crew bring their trucks, lights and stars to a locality.

Moviemakers have scoured the world for locations but West Wales was picked by the creative minds behind the latest Harry Potter fantasy and Russell Crowe-starring Robin Hood epic.

Anyone who has wandered across a Pembrokeshire beach, even when the sleet is horizontal, knows this is one of the world’s glories. But just as a dad must beam with pride when his daughter appears on the cover of Vogue, there is a flame of delight this back-garden paradise has been “discovered”.

The sight of a film star at a local pub is a disconcerting experience. Normally, their image is computed by the part of the brain which processes the make-believe; but now they stand, sit, holler, dance and gyrate before your eyes.

Perhaps it is a sign of the health of Welsh democracy that people do not feel the same fuzz of awe when they see a local politician on their doorstep. Few hold back in venting their indignation about the expenses malarkey and the quality of kerbstones.

This is quite different to what happens in much of the world, where politicians do expect to be regarded as bearers of the glory of the state. It may be the upside of a constitutional monarchy that we do no confuse aristocrats and politicos, and no-one feels the urge to bow before complaining about their broadband speed and the illogic of importing elderberries.

The primacy of doorstep politics is something glorious about UK democracy, and maybe we should act to make this even an even bigger feature of national life?

Just as a remote village can somehow accommodate the arrival of a film set’s worth of Olympian egos and pyrotechnical paraphernalia, so quite a few places could cope with the arrival of 646 MPs – many a Welsh chapel could squeeze in such a congregation.

If parliament visited Pembrokeshire, for example, the county would cease to be a theoretical place in the minds of MPs who were raised to record anywhere north of Oxford as barbarian territory.

Many MPs would no doubt jump at the chance to stage Prime Minister’s Questions at Newport’s Celtic Manor (although they would have declare any free round of golf) and it would do them a horizon-expanding world of unadulterated good to stage similar events on Shetland, in the cities of the North and in the farthest reaches of Scotland and Northern Ireland.

This would not be just a gimmick. It would inject cash into communities, demonstrate how difficult and expensive it is to travel around this country, and bring home the reality of the power they wield to change lives.

Many MPs may feel the dire need for a change of scene. But how about one with a purpose?