Charles Nevin: What Europe needs is an inspiring figurehead

Europe is always a tricky one. A definite entity, give or take a Ural or two, but difficult to pin down beyond that. Many have tried - one thinks of Napoleon and Hitler - but few have had any lasting degree of success, which is not altogether surprising when you consider that both Israel and Morocco have taken part in the Eurovision Song Contest. You also have to wonder, in the same connection, just what sort of a continent would put Sir Cliff Richard's splendid "Congratulations" in only second place.

Even Tony Blair, in a speech last Thursday, has now conceded failure in his mission to provoke some genuine enthusiasm in the British for the idea of Europe. Boris Johnson, meanwhile, in a book and television series, is contrasting Rome's methods of holding the place together with those of the EU, and has concluded, inter alia, as I believe the Romans used to put it, that what's lacking is big unifying ideas and symbols, something to rally round, something uniquely European, something that will send pride surging into our European hearts as surely as our national football teams.

Or, indeed, someone. And, when you're looking for an inspiring figurehead, it's easy to see the advantages of having an emperor who is also a god possessed of the power to end your life with the downward flick of a thumb and a high-pitched giggle. But I like a challenge.

Before coming up with some big ideas, though, let's look at how some other pan-Europeans have handled the problem. And the first of my pan-handlers is an early mover and shaker whose thoughts have been interpreted by Wess Roberts in his management guide, Leadership Secrets of Attila the Hun: "Harness your peoples' desires for short-term gains ... Never underestimate the ability to buy obedience."

Nothing new there, then. How about the Emperor Charlemagne? What clues can this legendary figure provide? Well, he had a thick, short neck, a high voice, "a belly that protruded somewhat", and he ended up with what sounds like gout, no doubt due to the red wine which stained his beard so much that his wife persuaded him to switch to white, thus giving birth to that excellent appellation, Corton-Charlemagne. He was also very keen on swimming, and, unusually or not at this level, could read but couldn't write.

Among contemporary politicians, I'm not sure who measures up to that, with the possible exception of, mutatis mutandis (vide supra), Charles Clarke, whom I'd not previously seen as the figurehead type, except, possibly, on a prow. Still, I note that Charlemagne banned jesters at court, so he and the Home Secretary are also united by a taste for anti-joke legislation. And, of course, they both share the same name, which, modestly almost forbids me to point out, has had a fair bit of success in ruling Europe: you might also recall the great Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V.

Who, as it happens, was another gout sufferer. And, like Charlemagne, was born in what is now Belgium, always most receptive to European ideals. He, though, did like a joke. This is a crack of his: "To God I speak Spanish, to women Italian, to men French, and to my horse, German." Which, in addition to being the forerunner of all those ones about hell being where the British are the chefs and everything's run by the Italians, must now be a highly dangerous, if not illegal, thing to say on at least four counts, including animal rights.

But if we're deciding whether you need a sense of humour to run Europe, I should add that Charles V gave it all up and went to live in a monastery in Extremadura for the last years of his life, almost totally incommunicado. (For younger readers, a monastery is a little like a monosexual Big Brother House, but with better singing.)

So the ideal candidate would seem to be a clever, portly and serious Belgian. Where is such a paragon to be found? While you tax your little grey cells, I shall consider some big unifying ideas and symbols. A song is always good. I still have to blow my nose vigorously every time I watch that scene in Casablanca when the band plays the Marseillaise, and my only connection with France is a liking for chips.

"Ode to Joy", the European anthem, isn't the same, somehow. As I've already noted, "Congratulations" was rejected in 1968, which is a great pity, but there is another catchy one with a pertinent sentiment, "All Kinds of Everything", a winner in 1970 for Dana, who, you will remember, went on to become the MEP for Connacht-Ulster, although her attachment to "strict family values" ran a little counter to her anthem's message.

Perhaps not, then. How about, instead, a medley of national anthems, a catch of this, a snatch of that? It might work, especially if was played every morning at 5.30 on Radio 4.

I've thought about the sporting angle, too. And my principal suggestion is for a European cricket team. How that would unite us! Can you imagine Europe against India or Australia, with Spanish matadors of opening bats, guileful French spinners, fearsome German fast bowlers thundering in and Italians sledging? Marvellous.

The delights and attractions of the Roman games are also said to have been a great unifying draw, so I'm now working on a pilot for European Heads of Government Strictly Come Dancing On Ice, in which the winner assumes the Presidency. QED, DV, pax vobiscum.