MONKEY BUSINESS

Reading about the political troubles of British Prime Minister Tony Blair and his gaffe-prone deputy John Prescott reminded me of two things.

The first was that the post of deputy prime minister is largely a ceremonial role given by the PM of the day to a political rival in his or her own party. Who outside the UK has even heard of John Prescott? The idea of the job, first introduced during Margaret Thatcher's time, is to neutralise the threat from the rival and the rival's faction, by giving the appearance that they might actually have some say in what's going on.

In this context it's amusing to think how strange many Westerners find the Chinese concept of 'face' yet the above scenario is living proof that 'face' is alive and well in the West too.

The second thing the Prescott situation reminded me of was the dreariness and predictability both of British bourgeois values and of human behaviour in general.

Prescott's been caught with his pants down in an extra-marital affair with his secretary. He used to be nicknamed 'Two Jags' because of his fondness for running two Jaguar cars - one his own and the other a ministerial perk. Since news of the affair, he's been relabelled - not very surprisingly - 'Two Shags'.

To borrow two rather appropriate Irish words - these shenanigans are being used as a stick to beat the Prime Minister, which is quite funny, as there are many much heftier and worthier shellaleghs with which to crown him.

Having met both the PM and the deputy PM on a number of occasions, I can attest that Prescott is a much nicer human being than the reptilian Blair. This doesn't however alter the fact that Prescott's reaction to getting caught with his pants down was the usual tiresome mix of self-pity, deflection of blame onto the media and spite for the former lover.

The story told by the ex-squeeze Tracey Temple - who used to be his diary secretary - was also drearily familiar. She complains of being cast adrift by her powerful 'ex' in his bid to save his own skin (a political rival allegedly leaked the story). This so upset her that she felt obliged to accept more than £100,000 from a newspaper in order to 'set the record straight'. Poor girl.

I have seen this pattern repeat itself time and time again. The contrite husband threatening to go to the Press Complaints Commission, the hurt ex-lover crying crocodile tears as she collects her cheque, the pompous political commentators claiming that a man who will lie to his wife will lie to the nation, and last but not least, the sanctimonious newspaper editor claiming 'public interest' in publishing the story.

My point is this. Why do we all still pay lip service to the absurd notion that sexual fidelity and ethical behaviour is somehow the norm in human society or indeed that its absence should disbar anyone from public office? After all, Franklin D Roosevelt consistently lied to the American public that he had no intention of getting into a European war, and he's now considered one of the greatest ever US presidents. Bill Clinton was a first-rate philanderer who told bare-faced untruths about Monica Lewinsky, and yet left the White House with some of the highest approval ratings ever for a second-term president.

We all ardently hope that we are more than just our animal selves, but the odds don't look too good. Public opinion is a notoriously fickle and irrational yardstick for politicians to measure their conduct against. For every member of the public tut tutting over whether John Prescott played doctors and nurses with his secretary, there are as many doing exactly the same thing.

We are much more like the Bonobo, the easy-going, multi-copulating, mutually masturbating African ape, than we are the graceful, mate-for-life white swan. Middle-aged human males are often seen as the worst offenders in the low-fidelity stakes, but this impulse to rut seems to apply just as much to human females. The factor that tends to regulate our behaviour and affect how likely we are to follow our Bonobo instincts is culture. A female who faces being stoned to death for adultery is rather less likely to become a desperate housewife than a western 'lady who lunches'.

When Sigmund Freud first suggested that human behaviour could be influenced by the workings of the unconscious mind, there was outrage in many quarters. How dare he suggest that humans were not masters and mistresses of their own lives, in their own houses?

Comparing human beings to the sexually incontinent Bonobo may provoke similar outrage, but I simply ask every reader to look inside themselves. Is there a gap between who you think you are, who you claim you are and what you actually do - inside the bedroom or out of it? If your answer is 'No' write to the Vatican in Rome straight away and apply to become a saint. The rest of us will just keep on monkeying around.