In a development so bewildering it could only have been conceived in the fetid backroom of a Westminster pub, former Downing Street aide Steve Hilton has announced his intention to overhaul California. Yes, that California. The land of kale smoothies and eternal optimism is to be saved by a man whose idea of radical reform probably involves mandatory afternoon tea and a stiff upper lip workout routine.
Hilton, who once served as David Cameron's 'big ideas' man – a job description so vague it could comfortably accommodate a slogan for a new brand of politics-flavoured gin – has apparently decided that what the Golden State truly lacks is a dose of British governance. Because nothing says 'solution to America's most populous state' quite like a chap who thinks queue-jumping is a crime against humanity.
Let us dissect this beautiful, insane proposition. Hilton's plan, as far as anyone can decipher through the fog of his own self-regard, involves sweeping deregulation, tax cuts, and what can only be described as 'a jolly good sorting out'. He wants to abolish planning laws because clearly the answer to California's housing crisis is to let developers run amok with the same abandon that gave us the Leaning Tower of Pisa's less attractive cousin, the suburban strip mall.
But here's the kicker: Hilton believes British political culture is the model. British. Political. Culture. The same culture that gave us Brexit, the crumbling of the NHS, and a Prime Minister who fattened pigs with financial advice. If this is our export to the world, we should apologise profusely and perhaps offer a free packet of digestives with every political suggestion.
Hilton's pitch seems to be that California, a state with more people than Canada, should be run like a slightly posher version of a county council. He wants to replace the state's labyrinthine regulations with 'simple, clear rules' – as if simplicity ever survived first contact with a Californian environmental lawyer. And his tax plan? Cut them. Massively. Because the lesson of Kansas's economic miracle hasn't yet penetrated his tweed-clad skull.
But let's not be too harsh. There is something gloriously British about the sheer audacity of this proposal. It's the same spirit that sent a man to explore the Amazon with a pith helmet and a bottle of tonic. It's the confidence of a nation that once ruled a quarter of the globe and now can't decide whether to ban plastic straws or embrace them.
Of course, Hilton has form for this sort of thing. He was the architect of the 'Big Society', a concept so nebulous it evaporated faster than a gin and tonic on a hot August afternoon. Now he wants to apply his gift for empty rhetoric to a state that already has a surfeit of it. The only difference is that in California, the weather is better and the people are more attractive. Hilton represents the opposite: grey suits, grey ideas, and a complete inability to understand why anyone would prefer an avocado to a banger.
So what are we to make of this transatlantic proposition? Either Hilton is a visionary who sees through the fog of American hyper-individualism to a world of quiet efficiency, or he is a man who has spent too long in the Westminster echo chamber and has mistaken its hollow hum for symphonic genius. Given his track record, I'm putting my money on the latter, possibly with a side order of smugness.
In conclusion, Steve Hilton wants to save California with British values. The same British values that have our trains running on time approximately never, our housing market a dystopian hellscape, and our political discourse resembling a particularly vicious game of Monopoly played by angry toddlers. Good luck, California. You're going to need it. And possibly a large gin.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to catch. To California, perhaps, to see if I can sell them a bridge. Made of tea bags.
