After Gordon

There are even those who relish the idea of leaving Cameron in charge of the worsening economic situ

The post-Gordon era is upon us. Some within the Labour Party talk about the Prime Minister as if he were gone already. Ministers avoid the subject where they can, and his old enemies are openly hostile. Tortured discussions among backbenchers twist around turning points and tipping points. Was it George Osborne's inheritance tax speech, the election that never was, or the 10p tax rate that really did for him? Will it be the Glasgow East by-election, Labour's policy forum later this month, or the autumn party conference season that will definitively mark the end of the Brown era?

The talk in Westminster is no longer about whether a period in opposition would be useful, but whether enough genuine talent would survive a landslide Tory victory to form a shadow cabinet. The question is not whether the Labour Party can renew itself in power, but whether it will survive the humiliation of defeat. There is the whiff of revolutionary defeatism in the air, and the distinct belief in some quarters that the party's interests would be best served by losing power. There are even those who somewhat relish the idea of leaving David Cameron in charge of the worsening economic situation.

Act of war

In this atmosphere, almost anything Charles Clarke does is liable to be interpreted as a bid for the leadership, or a move to undermine Gordon Brown. The former home secretary is viewed in Brownite circles as something not far short of Satan (otherwise known as Alan Milburn). So his new paper on the future of public services, published as the New Statesman goes to press by the accounting firm KPMG, will undoubtedly be seen as an act of war.

In reality, Achieving the Potential is a rather modest document, which discusses whether there is an argument for an extension in "user charging" to top up tax revenues for transport, housing, education and health and social care. Although to some ears this may sound suspiciously like another argument for further privatisation, such public sector charging for services already exists: for driving in to central London, prescriptions and school meals, for example.

Clarke suggests that an extension of charging might provide a pragmatic solution to a fundamental conundrum: in an age when expectations of public services are rising, but people are not prepared to pay more taxes, how will the government fund the improvements? He argues for an increase in road charging, coupled with a "hypothecation" of the revenue into environmental improvements. He also believes the building of new infrastructure projects, such as bridges and tunnels, would be accelerated by the systematic ability to charge tolls, on the model of the M6 bypass or the Dartford River Crossing. In social housing, tenants could be given a "menu" of choices, such as the option of a concierge in a block of flats or environmental improvements, which they would pay for on top of their rent.

In more controversial areas, such as education and health, Clarke is more cautious. He does not advocate, for instance, charging for GPs, as happens in some countries, or the introduction of fees in education beyond payments for extended services, such as after-school clubs.

At the same time, he recognises potential issues of equity that inevitably arise when some people are better able to pay the charges than others. To address this, he suggests a range of solutions - including means-testing, graduated charges and repayment - such as already exist for student loans.

Avoiding controversy

Clarke is at pains to emphasise that his work on user charging was not intended as an ideological statement or a political intervention. In some circles, however, it will inevitably be seen as entirely consistent with the Blairite love-in with business, given that some of the services would almost certainly be provided by the private sector. But I believe Clarke when he says this is a genuine attempt to address a potential funding gap between consumer demand and willingness to pay taxes.

Nonetheless, this is undoubtedly a "beyond Gordon" document. At a breakfast to launch it, the Prime Minister's name was not mentioned once. It is telling that such proposals for public sector reform are not being discussed around the cabinet table.

There are good reasons for this. Clarke writes in his introduction: "Any attempt to change the existing system has the potential to be extremely controversial. There may well be substantial numbers of losers, as well as winners, and the reform is likely to raise sharp ideological and political questions." As the education secretary who pushed through the 2003 legislation to set up a system of variable tuition fees for universities, Clarke knows just how controversial "user charging" can be.

Perhaps that is the point. It may not be possible for Labour politicians to think adventurous thoughts from within government because the political stakes are now too high. Personally, I have grave doubts about some of Charles Clarke's proposals, largely because I believe charges act as a disincentive to the poorest in society. But the "sharp ideological and political questions" he talks about are precisely those that need to be addressed if the post-Gordon era is not to become the post-Labour era.

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2008 issue of the New Statesman, Tyranny and tourism

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

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 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times