Ed Miliband’s guide to raving in Ibiza

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/may/13/ed-miliband-guide-raving-ibiza

Version 0 of 1.

So Ed Miliband’s gone to Ibiza to “get away from it all”. Personally, I don’t blame him. I’ve been “on one” fairly constantly since that BBC exit poll last Thursday night. Perhaps he’s realised, like the rest of us did in the late 80s, that the only way you can cope with a Tory government is to be on drugs most of the time. Judging by some of the Conservatives’ early cabinet appointments, it’s easy to imagine that they might be off their tits on something too.

Miliband does have some form for raving before, however, having been spied at a warehouse party in Limehouse with his brother David in the days before they became arch-enemies. They arrived in a black car, perfectly dressed for raving in their black suits. The crazy pair even took their ties off once inside. I remember spotting Simon Hughes, the former Liberal Democrat MP, walking through the bar at the Ministry of Sound one night in the early 90s. Since he was MP for Southwark and Bermondsey at the time, it could be argued he was just checking up on his constituents, though I suspect that most MPs are not doing this at 6am on a Sunday morning. Plus, he was wearing a safari suit, which made him look like he’d taken the wrong turning at the Amazon basin. There’s also the entirely daft footage of David Cameron supposedly dancing in a field at a sunrise party in 1988, though it’s hard to believe anyone who’s listened to Promised Land by Joe Smooth could then go and work with George Osborne without wanting to garrotte him with his Old Etonian tie.

Fortunately, there are lots of nooks and crannies in Ibiza that are not full of teenage ravers high on designer drugs

Of course, this sort of behaviour would never have happened in the old days. Perish the thought of dancing in a rapturous state in the open air at Ku, only to be confronted with Michael Foot, dressed only in a leather thong and tribal necklace, dancing to Elkin & Nelson – or worse, Ted Heath, moored off the coast of las islas Baleares on Gypsy Moth, his skipper’s cap slightly askew as he played bongos in the warm wind.

Ed has probably come for the peace and quiet rather than for some weapons-grade horse tranquillisers. Fortunately, there are lots of nooks and crannies in Ibiza that are not full of wide-eyed teenage ravers high on designer drugs and TK Maxx Bermuda shorts. He might head out to Santa Eulalia, on the east coast of the island, which is popular with families, and take lunch at the stunning Amante beach club, run by former DJ David Piccioni. Then there’s a hippy beach at Benirras, where Ed and Justine could listen to Pink Floyd’s More soundtrack album (the movie was set in Ibiza) while having a bash on a Tibetan nose flute. Failing that, they could get naked on the lovely white-sanded nudist beach at Sa Trincha, though that would mean removing the tie.

Fortunately, the Milibands have arrived just in time for the season’s opening parties, with Es Paradis and Sankeys opening in the next week. Should they choose to sit it out, there are plenty of issues on which they could campaign in Ibiza. There are the young workers – on zero-hours, the lot of them – who flyer the beaches, often working on a basic of €50 per week and a small cut on each flyer used as entry to a club. Then there’s the scandalous prices of the leading clubs, where a small beer can set you back €18, while a spirit with mixer is nearer €20 (the lads at the Bentley working men’s club in Doncaster would balk at those prices). “Bring your wallet. The big one,” advises Mark Broadbent, former We Love programmer and longtime island resident. “People do look pretty sad when they leave the bar with a drink and that’s not a good sign, is it?”

Then there’s the police, often accused of over-zealous treatment of tourists (like the controversial death of rugby league player Luke Rhoden last summer) and corruption. Plenty for Ed to get his teeth into, then. Mind you, after the campaign he’s just had, if I were him, I’d kick back the slingbacks and hit the horse drugs.