Lambeth talk

A horse! A horse! Jonathan Myerson waves a spear in a tragicomical power play

My youngest son is studying Richard III at school. So we've been talking a lot about power - what people will do to get it and keep it. But, to be fair, Richard only murdered children in order to secure absolute power. Here in Clapham, it is surprising the lengths people will go to just to guarantee themselves a year as chair of a committee.

Most evenings, my diary offers a clash of meetings. I choose one, grateful for a clean excuse not to attend the other. But tonight is a rare occasion when I need to be at both: a general meeting of an estate that governs itself as a tenants' management organisation (TMO); and the first meeting of the Metropolitan police safer neighbourhoods panel. I decide to show my face for the first 20 minutes of the community safety meeting, cycle up Lavender Hill, answer crucial questions at the estate meeting, and shoot back down in time for the panel to reach some conclusions.

I'm a fan of safer neighbourhoods. At last the Met is offering to listen to local people's anxieties rather than hide behind statistics. And tonight is the first real chance to express these local opinions. It would be great to see some new faces. We know what we always hear from the activists. This time we want to tap into some new energy, new voices. Meanwhile, Dominic Busby, our star community safety coordinator, has arranged for Sergeant Neil Henson from the Met to facilitate the meeting.

A big hall, but just five punters; two neighbourhood watchers, two staff from the local street drinkers hostel and the chair of the tenants' and residents association (TRA). Henson kicks off, undaunted. He's articulate, he has method, he even has some charisma. He starts by asking what crimes we all fear. He's offering some useful answers when Lisa, the TRA chair arrives. She sets about answering Henson's question with a litany of her usual (and often valid) complaints. Patiently, Henson pulls her back to his theme. "But what do you personally experience?" "People on my estate are telling me ..." "No, what do you yourself worry about?"

I'm curious to hear Lisa's answer, but it's time to get on my bike.

Up at the TMO general meeting, I've been asked to read out a statement about recent staff changes in the estate office. My job is to reassure worried residents - and most seem to be by the time I finish reading.

Except for Reg. He's got a question - or rather, an accusation. He wants to know why a member of the management board made a serious allegation against him. I explain that if she did, it was as a private individual, not a member of the board. No such accusation has ever even been made. But that's not enough for Reg: "When's she going to resign?"

Reg's problem is Shakespearean. When the long-serving chair resigned last year, Reg - long her No 2 - presumed his moment had come. Unfortunately, no one told Maureen. She stuck her hand up at the next board meeting and got herself elected as chair. What followed was warfare bloody enough to make the Houses of York and Lancaster blanch.

Within weeks, board meetings had imploded into accusation and counter-accusation, readings of the rules and pettifogging counter-readings - which is when I became involved as referee. Since then, most of Reg's Lancastrians have resigned or simply absented themselves from board meetings, so business is done, but it's frequently inquorate.

Stupidly forgetting this internecine history, I'm surprised when the heated debate between Reg and me quickly spirals out of control. I do what no councillor should ever do and lose my sang-froid. Worse, I show partisanship. "These board members," I say, pointing at the Yorkists, "work hard and I find it disgusting that some people just want to stand up here and simply make trouble."

I should have known "disgusting" would be a mistake. The backlash from Reg's supporters is valid and I quickly change tack: "Fine, but please argue about estate policy. At the moment, all these accusations are purely personal and that's not helping anybody." Most residents nod but when the chair moves the amendment to the rules reducing the quorum (the point of this meeting), Reg whips out his rule book and declares that the Yorkists have failed to circulate the text in advance. He's right. So business will continue not to be done.

I have never before so wanted to be at a police meeting.

I make my excuses and freewheel back down the hill. But I'm too late. This meeting has also been hijacked. Apparently, Lisa was sick of police meetings, sick of talking while nothing changes. She's not entirely incorrect, but this isn't just about her estate and her opinions.

What she doesn't seem to have grasped is that this is all about a new method to enable more residents to tackle problems themselves. Or is that precisely what she has grasped and doesn't like? She's determined that her voice is the one that gets heard.

Both meetings have been rendered fruitless. Once the hall clears, officers (police and council) are either catatonic or verging on despair. But I tell Busby to be grateful. At least Reg didn't come to his meeting.

· Jonathan Myerson writes here each month on his experiences as a Lambeth Labour councillor. Some names have been changed.

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