Wednesday’s full council meeting had everything: a thoughtful speech about identity and inclusion, a council leader admitting he’d been publicly booed, an impassioned plea for public conveniences, and half a billion pounds of spending rushed through in the final minutes because everyone had spent too long arguing about a vote that had already concluded.
In other words: democracy in action.
The Mayor opened proceedings by noting he’d been unwell for three weeks (possible tennis-match-loss related) before launching into the usual mayoral territory: congratulations to adult social care for their CQC rating, celebration of Borough of Culture events, and thanks to everyone involved in supporting Fox House residents after the fire.
Then came the petitions – CCTV requests, pavement repairs, the usual hyperlocal concerns that definitely won’t get lost in a filing cabinet somewhere – before the meeting settled into its main business: leader’s questions, three motions on the agenda, and the ever-present threat of the 10pm guillotine.
The atmosphere? Started civil, grew increasingly tetchy as the evening wore on, with moments of genuine substance punctuating longer stretches of predictable party-political theatre. Think West End production, but with worse lighting and more people checking their phones.
The substance (yes, really)
Before the theatre took over, the chamber delivered two moments that transcended the usual partisan noise.
First came the confrontation over Putney. When challenged about being “booed by Putney residents at the latest of his Simon Speaks tours,” Council Leader Simon Hogg could have denied it, deflected it, or dismissed it as Opposition mischief-making. Instead, he sort of owned it: “We heard loud and clear from communities in your own ward… we apologised for the disruption.” Then came the now-familiar refrain: a letter to residents would be “going out soon” with details of traffic fixes.
For those keeping track at home, “soon” in council-speak occupies the same temporal space as “I’ll call you” after a bad date or a “quick 15-minute meeting” in your manager’s calendar. It means something. Just not what you think it means.
The exchange crystallised something important about the current state of Wandsworth politics. Hogg is actually listening – he’s holding public meetings, acknowledging problems, promising action. But those promises keep coming with elastic deadlines that stretch like chewing gum on a hot pavement, and the gap between “we’re on it” and actual delivery is where public trust goes to die. Being booed at your own public meeting is what happens when that gap gets too wide. It’s the political equivalent of getting heckled at your own birthday party.
But the evening’s most remarkable moment came from an unexpected source. Independent Councillor Malcolm Grimston delivered a speech that felt like it belonged in a different building entirely – one where people grapple with difficult ideas rather than just score points off each other.
Speaking during a motion on diversity and migration, Grimston drew on his lived experience growing up gay in the 1960s and 70s to challenge what he called “performative identity politics.” The journey he described was striking: from a society that used Clause 28 and stereotypes to tell him he didn’t belong, through the early 2000s when “people were studiedly bored by my sexuality,” to now, where rainbow crossings and flags make him feel marked out as different all over again.
“The real allies of LGB people are not those who go around saying we like gay people and waving flags,” he argued. “They’re the people who just couldn’t care less what I get up to.”
You don’t have to agree with his analysis – and many won’t – to recognise it as the kind of personal, philosophically substantive contribution that makes democracy worthwhile. When Grimston quoted Martin Luther King’s dream that people would be judged by the content of their character rather than the colour of their skin, suggesting “we’re moving backwards on that,” he was forcing the chamber to think rather than simply cheer or jeer.
Which must have come as quite a shock to some councillors who’d clearly settled in for an evening of the usual routine.
It’s worth noting: this came during a motion about diversity that was otherwise fairly standard stuff. Labour praising their Borough of Sanctuary status, Conservatives wanting to add language about antisemitism (which passed unanimously in an amended version), various councillors making entirely predictable points about migration policy. Grimston’s intervention stood out precisely because it was neither predictable nor performative.
Award: Most improved – Council leader’s self-awareness
Winner: Simon Hogg, for admitting he got booed
In a political environment where most leaders would rather eat their own tie than admit to public humiliation, Hogg’s acknowledgment that Putney residents booed him showed a refreshing – if possibly accidental – honesty.
Sure, he immediately pivoted to talking about upcoming fixes and letters that will go out soon. But still: admitting you’ve been publicly chastised takes a certain kind of courage. Or possibly just an inability to think of a convincing denial fast enough. We’re choosing to believe it’s courage. It’s a council meeting, we need to find inspiration where we can.
Either way, we’re giving him the award. He’s earned it. Unlike the trust of Putney residents, apparently.
The Theatre (as predicted)
After those moments of substance, the meeting descended into more familiar territory: extended debates about matters already concluded, partisan zingers, and the kind of political performance that entertains in a mean-spirited kind of way like trash TV made by policywonks.
The Alton Estate debate ate up more than 30 minutes of council time rehashing a ballot that had already closed. Labour councillors celebrated their 82% yes vote as a decisive victory worthy of ticker-tape parades and commemorative stamps. Conservative councillors explained why they’d been right to oppose a plan they’d previously voted for, which is impressive mental gymnastics deserving of a bronze medal. Everyone made sure their version of events was on the record, because ultimately that’s more important than, say, governing.
The context matters though: while 82% of voters said yes, turnout tells a more complex story. Of roughly 13,000 estimated residents on the estate, only about 3,500 were eligible to vote, and of those, nearly 60% didn’t participate. So yes, a clear victory among those who engaged – but hardly the overwhelming democratic mandate Labour’s celebration suggested. It’s a bit like winning a football match 5-1 when the other team only fielded six players. Technically a win. Asterisks apply.
The budget discussion followed patterns so predictable you could set your watch by them. Conservatives demanded to know how Labour would handle potential government funding cuts. Labour responded with the now-familiar refrain “fixing 44 years of Tory neglect” line (beaten only by “sound financial management is at the heart of everything we do” in terms of tedious repetition). Conservatives complained about Labour government cuts. Labour pointed to Conservative austerity.
Everyone checked off their talking points like diligent students on a homework assignment. Nobody’s mind was changed. Nobody expected anyone’s mind to be changed. The universe continued its inexorable expansion toward heat death, which at least is a kind of progress.
The Tony Belton Memorial Award for Tangential Excellence
Winner: Tony Belton himself, obviously and magnificently
During a serious discussion about budget cuts from central government – you know, policy stuff that affects services and people – Councillor Belton somehow managed to turn the conversation to the thing clearly weighing most heavily on his mind: public toilets.
“20 years ago, 30 years ago, we had public conveniences in this borough. We had 21 of them actually,” he announced, with the kind of specific detail that suggested this was a deeply held grievance requiring immediate attention, possibly a public inquiry, perhaps a royal commission. Several had been sold, some closed, some converted to recording studios (wonder what the acoustics are like).
The Mayor gently suggested he “come to the question,” using the tone of a patient teacher. Hogg quipped that Belton’s budget advice appeared to be that he “wants to spend a penny,” which is the kind of dad joke that should probably be illegal but was at least well-timed.
It’s worth noting for a second though that Belton’s not wrong. Since Putney lost its public toilet at the embankment (replaced by what appears to be a small power station), there is no public convenience along that entire stretch of river.
And here’s the uncomfortable truth every young councillor needs to hear: the issues of age visit us all eventually. Bladder confidence is not a permanent state. It’s a temporary privilege Father Time will revoke.
If the council starts planning for new toilets now – given how long they take to do anything – by the time they’re actually installed, today’s sprightly members might find themselves rather grateful. You can ignore bladder politics today, but bladder politics won’t ignore you forever. Just ask anyone over 60 trying to enjoy a walk along the Thames.
We salute you, Councillor Belton.
Best Zinger: Tiller’s Strategic Mastermind
Councillor Matthew Tiller – yes, you heard that right – delivered the evening’s sharpest zinger, mocking the Conservative strategy of distributing “two leaflets backing the losing side” and wondering “what strategic mastermind did they hire” to advise on that approach, referring to the Alton Estate ballot.
It was effective mockery – and not entirely unfair, given the Conservatives had voted for a similar plan before campaigning against it, which is the political equivalent of ordering a meal, eating it, paying for it, then standing outside the restaurant complaining the food was terrible.
It’s the kind of line that probably sounded even better in his head during the long Alton debate, and fair play – it landed well. The chamber clearly enjoyed it. Though one suspects the Conservatives’ strategic mastermind was probably just doing their best with a difficult brief that no amount of mental mastery could salvage.
The guillotine falls (RIP democratic scrutiny)
As the clock ticked toward 10pm, the meeting’s structural problem became acute. Too much time spent on theatrical debates about concluded votes meant too little time for actual governance. Who could have predicted this? (Everyone. Everyone could have predicted this.)
The result? A capital programme worth £423 million – nearly half a billion pounds of public spending, or enough to buy every resident of Wandsworth a very nice bicycle – was rushed through with minimal debate in the final minutes before the guillotine fell.
To be fair to councillors, this is partly a systemic issue. With only a few full council meetings per year, all capped at certain hours, something always gets squeezed. But the optics are terrible: 30+ minutes rehashing the Alton vote that everyone already knew about, 5 minutes on nearly half a billion in spending that presumably someone should scrutinise.
The capital programme probably felt like the designated driver at a party – patiently waiting while everyone else had their fun with no chance to say its piece or use the facilities. Or which there are precious few in Wandsworth; just ask Tony.
By the numbers
- 30+ minutes: Debating an already-concluded vote
- 5 minutes: Discussing £423 million in public spending
- 21 public toilets: What Wandsworth used to have (never forget)
- 0 public toilets: Along Putney embankment now
- 82%: Voted yes on Alton Estate* (asterisk = turnout low)
The verdict
Council meetings work best when they balance substance with theatre – the serious business of governance with the democratic necessity of debate and political performance. October’s meeting delivered both, though not always in the right proportions or the right order.
When we got substance, it was genuinely valuable. When we got theatre, we wasted time on silly parlour politics. The tragedy is what got squeezed as a result. Nearly half a billion in capital spending deserved more than a rushed approval in the final minutes.
Still, democracy is messy. Sometimes inspirational; sometimes frustrating; often absurd; frequently boring.
The next full council meeting is scheduled for just two weeks away – 3 November – when the agenda includes: a second entrance to Wandsworth Town station; shutting down the special needs school that Wandsworth runs in Kent for some reason; council fees; Clapham Junction; domestic abuse; and cleaning services: a barrel of fun if ever there was one.
Council Theatre will track Wandsworth Council meetings – the substance, the nonsense, and everything in between. Sometimes democracy makes you think. Sometimes it makes you laugh. Sometimes it makes you need the toilet.
