A bold vision?

The talk at conference, a desire to hear a bold vision from Gordon Brown and Charles Clarke's curren

The New Statesman party is usually the first big event of Labour's annual conference and you can get quite a sense of how the week may pan out.

This time Charles Clarke was an early arrival keen to spread the word about his Sunday Times article in which he cheered on the idea of a leadership contest.

Clarke's not a popular figure in Manchester just now - neither with delegates nor senior party figures. Leave aside John Prescott's attack branding the former home secretary a "bitterite". One senior Labour figure told me that they could neither understand what had happened to Clarke - nor what he thought he was playing at.

"He's been there right at the centre of things for years and now look at him. What's he think he's doing?" they asked angrily.

I've been going to these conferences for nearly a decade and this is an odd one. Especially if you think back just a year. Then the atmosphere at the NS bash was feverish as we all speculated about a snap election.

It was virtually the only conversation. How things change and the talk now is whether Gordon Brown can survive.

Curiously it may be that fears over the economy are his best allies just now. It would be rash to trust either David Cameron or George Osborne with such a challenging situation. This needs more than a background in PR or the enthusiastic efforts of a former chorister - actually I don't know that about George but it just seems to fit.

After the NS party I went back into the security zone. Alistair Darling was having a drink with Neil Kinnock in one of the hotel bars and the Unite union bash was in full swing.

Some people at least seemed to be trying to have a good time and most seemed agreed that the prime minister is liable to come out of conference stronger than he went in. After that it will depend on what sort of direction he can give his party - and his government.

If nothing else it's time to shine the light on the Tories and their superficial transformation.

David Miliband does that writing on our conference blog. The foreign secretary pours scorn on Lexus Dave's progressive pretentions and insists Labour can win the next election. But it needs to set out a bold vision.

"The Tories now claim to agree with our goals. But David Cameron says that “progressive ends will best be met through conservative means.” And that is the new con, in Cameron’s conservatives. You cannot deliver progressive ends by Tory isolationism from Europe and Tory anti-statism."

In the meantime everyone is looking to see just what Brown's bold vision is.

Ben Davies trained as a journalist after taking most of the 1990s off. Prior to joining the New Statesman he spent five years working as a politics reporter for the BBC News website. He lives in North London.
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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times