The Cameron-Brooks texts begin to leak

The PM told Brooks to "keep her head up" the week she resigned.

Last week we learned that David Cameron may have texted Rebekah Brooks "a dozen" times a day. Today, courtesy of News International's the Times (£), we learn of some of the contents. An updated version of Times journalist Francis Elliott and Independent journalist James Hanning's biography of the PM, Cameron: Practically a Conservative, reveals that Cameron texted Brooks in the week she resigned as chief executive of News International to tell her "to keep her head up" (not a direct quote).

In a revelation that will certainly brighten Labour's morning, we also learn that such contact then came to an "abrupt halt", with Cameron dispatching an emissary to explain that "Ed Miliband had him on the run." And there's more: Brooks and Cameron texted each other to make sure they were not seen together at the Heythrop point-to-point; Cameron asked the Met to open a review into the Madeleine McCann case in May 2011 as "a favour" for Brooks; and Royal courtiers warned that Buckingham Palace would "think poorly" of a decision to take Andy Coulson into Downing Street.

The case for the defence is put by Oliver Letwin. "If you are on the same side as her (Brooks), you have to see her every week," he explains. "This was how it worked." In other words, the PM courted Brooks no more or less than Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. But even if we accept Letwin's assurances, the problem for Cameron is that he was the one standing up when the music stopped.

It's tempting to dismiss the Leveson inquiry (before which Coulson will testify on Thursday, followed by Brooks on Friday) as of interest only to journalists but Rebekah Brooks's name is one that has penetrated the public consciousness. As I've written before, the claim that Cameron texted her a dozen times a day (more contact than most people have with their partner) could permanently reduce him in the eyes of the public. Conversely, as Sunder Katwala notes, there are "as of now, no actual texts/emails to/from Cameron to Rebekah Brooks yet in public domain." So long as this remains the case, No. 10 will hope that it can limit the damage.

David Cameron with former Sun editor and News International chief executive Rebekah Brooks.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood