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Blair & Brown: The New Labour Revolution is a five-part documentary about two swaggering, confident, perhaps flawed giants of politics. I have devoured the series in just a couple of nights this week. Both men give extensive interviews, as do most of the key players from that time. Across the arc of their shared story, you go from Blair taking over the leadership of the Labour party through to Gordon Brown’s electoral defeat and departure from 10 Downing Street.
Whatever you think of the unravelling of their friendship, their politics or their involvement in the Iraq war, watching footage of Blair and Brown in the early days, and listening to their colleagues recollecting the intellectual tussles, you are left asking, “How the hell did we end up with Boris Johnson as the UK’s prime minister?” It’s unfathomable to think that you could make a similar programme about Johnson. Blair and Brown, just like many before them on both the right and left of politics, were statesmen. Johnson is someone who wings it.
Living through tumultuous political weeks can be darkly entertaining, draining and depressing; often all these emotions hit you in quick succession. That’s the rollercoaster ride we have had this week in the UK as a story about a Christmas party held at 10 Downing Street last year, two days after Londoners were told not to mix indoors with anyone outside their household, was allowed to spin out of control simply because nobody could be found to give an honest answer about what took place. (The prime minister is still unwilling to acknowledge that anything illegal was hosted, seemingly holding on to some hard-to-decipher notion of what constitutes a party.)
And then, at the peak of the ensuing furore, the UK government decided that it was the perfect moment to introduce Plan B, a new round of restrictions to cope with the spread of the Omicron variant. Now while these controls might well be required, they have landed devoid of credibility. There is a strong suspicion that they are an example of what Lynton Crosby, an Australian political strategist (and regular advisor to Mr Johnson) describes as a “dead cat strategy”, where you reveal something shocking to distract people from the real story. But I am not sure the deceased feline has helped much.
Previously, when new controls have been announced, they have had an immediate dampening effect on London. But last night as I cycled home, nothing much had changed: the bars seemed busy; people were out doing their Christmas shopping. Perhaps there were a few more masks around but, this morning, the crew in my neighbourhood coffee shop were all maskless and making jokes about the non-party party in Downing Street.
When trust and credibility drain away from a person, a company or a government, they can be hard to win back – especially when the boss doesn’t seem to give a damn. This week has seen many ignoring the edicts from central government and instead deciding for themselves what feels right, what needs to be done, to both stay safe and keep their businesses and lives moving forwards. Millions of individual Plan Bs are being put into action by millions of people who are now sceptical about coronavirus rules dished out by a government that clearly believes that they only apply to the hoi polloi.
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I have just received a press release with the headline, “Experts warn of the dangers of Christmas to your cat.” The email goes on to explain the risk of giving kitty leftovers from your lunch table (“corn on the cob can choke your cat”) or letting them near baubles, lit candles or even gift bags (apparently, they might get their heads stuck in the handles). They also stress that you must not force your cat “into cute Christmas outfits if they are not open to wearing them”. Open to wearing them? What’s the point of a cat if it refuses to dress as Santa? Honestly, it sounds like Mariah Carey has fewer rider demands for attending Christmas lunch than your average moggy. I do feel, however, that the PRs could have pointed out what to do should the worst happen and your cat succumbs to corn-choking: simply bag it up and post it to 10 Downing Street. It seems they are in need of fresh supplies.