Cameron the mafioso

The Tory leader's defence of his shadow cabinet and Andy Coulson reveals a brutal double standard at

Geoffrey Wheatcroft has a fine piece in today's Guardian drawing together a range of concerns over David Cameron. He argues that Cameron's decision to force a number of MPs out over the expenses scandal, while protecting his own shadow cabinet, highlighted a brutal double standard at work:

It was the action of a capo who whacks a few civilians but spares his made men, and it caused considerable, though so far private, resentment on the Tory benches.

Wheatcroft also homes in on the shamefully lenient treatment of Andy Coulson by Tory high command, a man he presciently described two years ago as someone "who makes Alastair Campbell seem a cross between CP Scott and Hugo Young".

The largely muted response to the phone-hacking scandal has been an indictment of our media. To paraphrase Nye Bevan's verdict on Anthony Eden during the Suez crisis, if Coulson did know about the hacking then he's too wicked to be Cameron's aide, if he didnt know then he's too stupid to be Cameron's aide.

Wheatcroft goes on: "Clinging to the Tory team is a whiff of clever-clever cynicism, of game-playing frivolity, of calculation rather than honour."

I would add that there is something spiteful and even sinister about the Tories' increasingly personalised attacks on Gordon Brown, a topic explored by my colleague James Macintyre earlier this month.

As far as I know, George Osborne has never apologised for his description of Brown as "autistic". I recently witnessed another ugly Tory slur when Alan Duncan declared at a private meeting that Brown "looks like he needs a wash". It's hard to avoid the conclusion that such remarks pander to those amused by Jeremy Clarkson's description of Brown as a "one-eyed Scottish idiot".

Unfortunately I can't agree with Wheatcroft's verdict that "the public is repelled" by the Tories' cynicism and frivolity. The supposition that the electorate would welcome Brown as a more substantial and sober figure than Tony Blair has been wholly discredited.

As the politicisation of celebrity and the celebritisation of politics continues, the truth is that the razzmatazz of Cameron will always triumph over the stoicism of Brown.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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The Telegraph’s bizarre list of 100 reasons to be happy about Brexit

“Old-fashioned light bulbs”, “crooked cucumbers”, and “new vocabulary”.

As the economy teeters on the verge of oblivion, and the Prime Minister grapples with steering the UK around a black hole of political turmoil, the Telegraph is making the best of a bad situation.

The paper has posted a video labelled “100 reasons to embrace Brexit”. Obviously the precise number is “zero”, but that didn’t stop it filling the blanks with some rather bizarre reasons, floating before the viewer to an inevitable Jerusalem soundtrack:

Cheap tennis balls

At last. Tennis balls are no longer reserved for the gilded eurocrat elite.

Keep paper licences

I can’t trust it unless I can get it wet so it disintegrates, or I can throw it in the bin by mistake, or lose it when I’m clearing out my filing cabinet. It’s only authentic that way.

New hangover cures

What?

Stronger vacuums

An end to the miserable years of desperately trying to hoover up dust by inhaling close to the carpet.

Old-fashioned light bulbs

I like my electricals filled with mercury and coated in lead paint, ideally.

No more EU elections

Because the democratic aspect of the European Union was something we never obsessed over in the run-up to the referendum.

End working time directive

At last, I don’t even have to go to the trouble of opting out of over-working! I will automatically be exploited!

Drop green targets

Most people don’t have time to worry about the future of our planet. Some don’t even know where their next tennis ball will come from.

No more wind farms

Renewable energy sources, infrastructure and investment – what a bore.

Blue passports

I like my personal identification how I like my rinse.

UK passport lane

Oh good, an unadulterated queue of British tourists. Just mind the vomit, beer spillage and flakes of sunburnt skin while you wait.

No fridge red tape

Free the fridge!

Pounds and ounces

Units of measurement are definitely top of voters’ priorities. Way above the economy, health service, and even a smidgen higher than equality of tennis ball access.

Straight bananas

Wait, what kind of bananas do Brexiteers want? Didn’t they want to protect bendy ones? Either way, this is as persistent a myth as the slapstick banana skin trope.

Crooked cucumbers

I don’t understand.

Small kiwi fruits

Fair enough. They were getting a bit above their station, weren’t they.

No EU flags in UK

They are a disgusting colour and design. An eyesore everywhere you look…in the uh zero places that fly them here.

Kent champagne

To celebrate Ukip cleaning up the east coast, right?

No olive oil bans

Finally, we can put our reliable, Mediterranean weather and multiple olive groves to proper use.

No clinical trials red tape

What is there to regulate?

No Turkey EU worries

True, we don’t have to worry. Because there is NO WAY AND NEVER WAS.

No kettle restrictions

Free the kettle! All kitchen appliances’ lives matter!

Less EU X-factor

What is this?

Ditto with BGT

I really don’t get this.

New vocabulary

Mainly racist slurs, right?

Keep our UN seat

Until that in/out UN referendum, of course.

No EU human rights laws

Yeah, got a bit fed up with my human rights tbh.

Herbal remedy boost

At last, a chance to be treated with medicine that doesn’t work.

Others will follow [picture of dominos]

Hooray! The economic collapse of countries surrounding us upon whose trade and labour we rely, one by one!

Better English team

Ah, because we can replace them with more qualified players under an Australian-style points-based system, you mean?

High-powered hairdryers

An end to the miserable years of desperately trying to dry my hair by yawning on it.

She would’ve wanted it [picture of Margaret Thatcher]

Well, I’m convinced.

I'm a mole, innit.