In 1991, the Observer took a poetic trip with Britain’s first Raving Loony Green Giant Party councillor around Sidmouth, an ‘almost comatose’ spot, where retirees dozed in rented deckchairs, ‘their papery skin broiling in the summer’s first bout of sun: their faces as angrily vivid as grilled tomatoes in the cooked breakfasts set before you in the local hotels.’
On to this soporific scene burst town jester, 40-year-old Stuart Hughes, in his ‘wrecked’ red, white and blue plastic sandals, ‘tacky silver topper’ and harlequin jacket, consoling a woman shat on by a gull (‘her blushing husband frantically dabs a tissue on her surgical stocking’): ‘That was a Tory gull, love.’
Newly elected to the East Devon District Council (EDDC), Hughes had a manifesto that combined extreme silliness (traffic light buttons for hedgehogs to use and neutering for shopping trolleys to stop them breeding) and ‘drab suburban common sense’: free bus passes for pensioners and more regular street cleaning. A 60s ‘superannuated raver’, Hughes had savvily turned his opposition to the Poll Tax into a vaudeville routine – attempting to pay in Monopoly money, then with a wheelbarrow of junk – and reaped the benefits in media attention: ‘The moment you do something stupid, they’re all over you.’
Despite the front of bravado, he was apprehensive about his first meeting: ‘I promised I wouldn’t wear me loony gear.’ How would his fellow councillors in the ‘Blue Kremlin’ of EDDC react, given ‘The Tories who run the place do not appreciate being teased’? Cowed by ‘ferocious’ council leader Ted Pinney, Hughes was subdued (‘eyes downcast, hunched and abashed’) as his nomination to the publicity and Promotions committee was rejected. ‘I began to feel very sorry for him and to think again about Sidmouth and the brutal antagonisms behind its privet hedges and lace curtains,’ the writer mused.
By next morning, Hughes was back out, antagonising the croquet club, cavorting with shop dummies and pretending to walk on water; you couldn’t keep a loony down for long.
