David Bowley Independent candidate for police commissioner in Leicestershire and Rutland

David Bowley Independent candidate for police commissioner in Leicestershire and Rutland

This article explains this candidate. From the Leicester Mercury 2010

http://www.thisisleicestershire.co.uk/don-8217-t-win-8217-ll-says-Leicester-West-candidate/story-12057024-detail/story.html


David Bowley, a Leicester West independent candidate repeatedly asked us to interview him. Reporter


Adam Wakelin did. This is what happened...

​It’s hard to know where to start with David Bowley, so let’s begin by coming clean.




This is a considerably edited account of my hour-and-a-half encounter with Leicester West’s most colourful candidate.

Why? It had to be.
Most politicians are adept at saying very little at indefinite length. Not this one. David has a stomach-puckering compulsion to tell you everything – and I really do mean everything – about himself.
And a lot of what he has to say is, to put it politely, a bit below the waist.
“I’ve slept with hundreds of women. Hundreds. And thousands of men,” muses the man in the “Pure Magic” Leicester City hat, off-white rosette, camouflage shorts and blue Gola trainers.
“Everyone is bisexual to a degree,” says the 52-year-old, arching an eyebrow. “You might have a dabble if someone was willing.”
A lot more where that came from has been kept in the notebook.
Prospective MP David J Bowley – “that’s J for John with an H, the Northbridge Tavern, LE3 5AG, please get it right” – is getting the oxygen of publicity he craves.
This is because a) he’s a genuinely interesting character in an election that seems to have an allergy to them; b) he’s putting himself forward for public office; c) he’s told us nothing that he’s not loudly telling anyone else who will listen; and d) he’s an impossible man to ignore.
He is there in reception, not for the first time, demanding an audience.
“Why aren’t I getting more coverage?” he bristles, jabbing an accusing finger at a back copy of the Mercury which gives more prominence to the three main party candidates.
Because, I try to tactfully point out, we only have a limited amount of space and, well, let’s face it, be honest, you’re not going to win.
“How can you say that?” gasps the man who has a T-shirt with a picture of his own face on the front and 46,000 Vote For David J Bowley leaflets in the boot of his Vauxhall Corsa. “Oriental blue, five-door,” he says, daring you not to be impressed.
“If I wasn’t going to win then why would I have gone to Bet Fred and put £3,000 on a May election? I got £600 back off that. More than paid for my deposit. I think you may be surprised.
“I know things about politicians that would make your hair curl. Bloody hell, I was at Boy George’s 21st birthday party!”
Trying to keep up is exhausting.
“Paris did for me like it did for Lady Thatcher,” he adds, apropos of nothing in particular.
It’s like he’s pulling random sentences out of a hat.
“I sent Patricia Hewitt a mug with her name on it. Never got a reply... I’m in favour of Leicester going forward, I’m also in favour of Leicester Market... I feed my dog sausages... I was going to campaign for Esther Rantzen... Do you know who deprived Leicester City of the title in the 1960s? Sheffield Wednesday... I watched my mother’s coffin lid being screwed down with her Corgi’s ashes inside, which the church said we couldn’t do...”
He might not win, but there’s no denying David is Leicester West’s stand-out candidate. Standing out is something he has an abundance of natural talent for.
Here, at least, is a politician who’s not afraid to speak his mind. It’s hard not to admire his pluck.
David’s campaign HQ is the crumbling Northbridge Tavern, in Frog Island.
You may have seen his poster in the window – along with a picture of the former Labour leader Michael Foot.
He moved into the pub in April, borrowing £38,000 and using some of a legacy left to him by his late Aunty Betty to meet the £152,000 asking price. David’s partner, Philip, died from Aids in 1999. His beloved mother, Edna – an independent councillor in Harborough – died a decade ago.
Both deaths have clearly left their scars.
“Mum died on March 17, 2000. It feels like yesterday,” he whispers, blinking back the tears. “I was playing Scrabble in the West End Scrabble Club only the night before.
“I slept with Philip’s ashes for two years. I couldn’t bear to be apart from him.
“When my mother was dying in hospital they treated her like a number, stroking her face, saying what a nice lady she was.
“Nice? My mother wasn’t nice,” he barks, thumping the table. “She was a bully! She had to be.
“How dare that jumped-up woman in Woolworth’s criticise my mother and say she was not suitable for the Conservative Party! She was an independent, like me.”
Have you had any professional help to deal with your grief? I wonder.
“I thought this would crop up,” he says. “I am seeing a psychiatrist. I see him because I want to see him. He doesn’t want to see me, particularly.”
David’s psychiatrist suggested he get a job in a charity shop.
He thought about it and went back to his doctor with an even better idea. David, outraged by the expenses scandal, was going to stand for parliament.
His election leaflet, it must be said, contains some eminently sensible policies:
*People before party, politics and pounds.
*Honesty and transparency in the House of Commons.
*Reduce all discrimination.
*Reduce the gap in income between rich and poor.
*Improved, respectful health and social services, especially for older people.
*Improved regulation of the banks for your benefit as a taxpayer.
There’s little to disagree with in those bullet points. And he believes they’re the kind of promises which will net him at least 5,000 votes. This election is just the start.
“If I don’t win, and I’m not ruling it out, I’ll be back,” he says. “I’ve got a £100 bet on a hung parliament. There will be another election in February.
“People say I could have a nice lifestyle now Aunty Betty has left me all her money. I could, but so could Keith Vaz. People like us, people with a bit of oomph, don’t sit in front of the television.
“I’ll keep fighting until my last breath and I’ll fight to win.”