Fantasy Cabinets: who do we know will be shadow ministers?

Douglas Alexander for shadow foreign?

As part of this week's coverage of the Labour party conference, I'm tipping a few outsider-ish names to win election to the shadow cabinet next week. I'm not including the "usual suspects", but that ushers in the question who it is that will definitely be there.

It is widely believed that "all" of the five leadership contenders will be in, though I am told Diane Abbott will not stand and risk defeat. Given that there are no unelected appointments to the shadow cabinet, that means she is likely to remain on the back-benches criticising fromt he side-lines and pursuing her national media profile. But of course the losing Miliband, Ed Balls -- whether he is or isn't shadow chancellor -- and Andy Burnham can all expect senior roles.

So, too, can Yvette Cooper, described by MPs as "the darling of the PLP [Parliamentary Labour Party]". She, though, may also have forfeited her role as shadow chancellor by backing Balls's position on the deficit. Harriet Harman is the only person other than the leader ensured a shadow cabinet role, thanks to her position as the elected deputy leader. She tells me in an interview for this week's magazine that she will "probably" take on a seperate portfolio as well. There are other certs, such as Jim Murphy.

But of course, the question of who gets which jobs depends on who is leader. Which brings me to my final name to watch: Douglas Alexander, tipped by Tony Blair in his book 'A Journey' as a potential future Labour leader. The articulate former international development secretary is at the heart of what I first termed "Next labour", and close to both Miliband brothers. He first met Ed Miliband -- with whom Alexander traveled to Bangladesh last year -- 20 years ago in David Miliband's kitchen, and having agonised over which to back opted for David and, with Murphy, is running the elder brother's campaign. If David Miliband wins, I would not be surprised if he took on the new leader's former role as shadow foreign secretary. If Ed Miliband wins however, that post would appear to be the only one he could appoint his brother to, as a continuation. That's if David sticks around.

James Macintyre is political correspondent for 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