Farage's hint of a pact with the Tories is a sign of weakness

If Ukip could find enough half-decent candidates the party wouldn't be angling to share with the Con

Nigel Farage is proving to be a very effective nuisance to the Conservative leadership. His latest bit of mischief is to revive in an interview with the Spectator, the idea of joint Ukip/Tory candidacies. This notion crops up from time to time and is quickly buried in an avalanche of scorn rolling down from the top of the Conservative party.

But as the Speccie’s James Forsyth points out, there is a growing number of Tory MPs who are finding it hard to mobilise a campaign on the ground when some of their activists and local association stalwarts have defected. The problem for Downing Street is that the segment of the electorate being haggled over here overlaps all too awkwardly with the group from whom Cameron energetically tried to distance himself as part of his “modernisation” of the party in opposition. In other words, wooing them back implies a repudiation of his entire political agenda. Tricky.

Tory strategists recognise that a conspicuous bid for Ukip voters would be electoral suicide. Andrew Cooper, Downing Street’s in-house pollster, is said to be the most consistent and influential voice urging Cameron not to go down that path. The important thing for the Conservatives to remember is that Farage’s angling for a pact of some kind is a sign of weakness not strength. He can disrupt the Tories by provoking their visceral hostility to the European Union and prodding other nerves along the way. What he cannot do is field a bunch of credible candidates to be MPs. Ukip’s strong performance in European elections (where huge numbers of sensible voters stay at home, privileging the turnout for fanatics) has produced some fairly dodgy MEPs.  

I have heard one senior Ukip official admit privately that the party’s biggest problem was that it became a magnet for “people who have failed in everything else in life and have an axe to grind”.

If Farage could muster a serious electoral battalion, surely an effective, dynamic, ambitious character like Dan Hannan would have defected by now. Wisely, he stays with the Tories hoping they will eventually swallow up the Ukip tendency (just as softer, liberal Tories hope the party can swallow up the Lib Dems). I am told Hannan is watched very carefully in Number 10 and not without some trepidation. He is seen as a useful indicator of feelings and loyalties in a certain quarter of the party.

The pressure on Cameron to give some concession on Europe keeps growing. As I wrote recently, the promise of some kind of referendum in the next manifesto is seen by most Tory MPs as the minimum required to buy loyalty and a semblance of unity. Ukip’s antics may be a sign of weakness; the question is whether Cameron is strong enough to ignore them. 

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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Manchester united: "A minority of absolute idiots are trying to break us apart"

At the vigil, one man's T-shirt read: "The only thing that's allowed to be separated by colour is the laundry."

A day after one of the worst atrocities in the history of the city, Manchester's people were keen to show the world the resilience of the Mancunian spirit.

Dom's, an Italian restaurant, is in walking distance from Manchester Arena, where 22 people lost their lives to a suicide bomber the night before. On Tuesday, the staff were giving out free coffee, tea and pizza to anyone who needed it. On a table outside, there was a condolences book, and teary passersby left RIP messages to those who perished. Under a bright blue sky, the community seemed more united than ever, the goodwill pouring out of everyone I met. But the general mood was sombre. 

"We need to make space for healing and for building up our community again, and just getting people to feel comfortable in their own city," the Dean of Manchester, Rogers Govendor, told me.

The terrorist has been named as Salman Ramadan Abedi, a 22-year-old Mancunian of Libyan descent. But with a population of 600,000, Manchester is a cosmopolitan hub, and proud of it. Throughout the day I encountered people of all skin shades and religions. On one of the roads off Albert Square, a couple of Orthodox Jewish boys set up a little stand, where people could grab a bottle of water and, if they so desired, hold hands and pray.

On the night of the tragedy, Muslim and Sikh cab drivers turned off the meter and made their way to Manchester Arena to offer free rides to anyone - many of them injured - who trying to escape the mayhem and reach safety. "It's what we do around here," my taxi driver said with a thick Arabic accent.

The dissonance between the increasingly frantic debate on social media and what was discussed on the streets was stark. I spoke, on and off the record, with about two dozen residents, eavesdropped on a number of conversations, and not once did I hear anyone speaking out against the cultural melting pot that Manchester is today. If anything, people were more eager than ever to highlight it. 

"Manchester has always been hugely multicultural, and people always pull together at times of trouble and need," said Andrew Hicklin. "They are not going to change our society and who we are as people. We live free lives."

It was also a day where political divisions were put aside. Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn agreed to suspend their campaigns. For the next few days there will be no Labour vs Tory, no Brexiteer vs Remainer, at least not in this part of the country. This city has closed ranks and nothing will be allowed to come between that cohesion.

"I don't demonise anyone," said Dennis Bolster, who stopped by to sign the condolences book outside Dom's. "I just know a small minority of absolute idiots, driven by whatever they think they are driven by, are the people who are trying to break us apart."

Later in the day, as people were getting off work, thousands flocked to Albert Square to show their respects to the victims. Members of the Sikh community entered the square carrying "I love MCR" signs. The crowd promptly applauded. A middle-aged man wore a T-shirt which said: "The only thing that's allowed to be separated by colour is the laundry." A moment of silent was observed. It was eerie, at times overwhelmingly sad. But it was also moving and inspiring.

Local poet Tony Walsh brought brief respite from the pain when he recited "This is the Place", his ode to the city and its people. The first verse went:

This is the place In the north-west of England. It’s ace, it’s the best

And the songs that we sing from the stands, from our bands

Set the whole planet shaking.

Our inventions are legends. There’s nowt we can’t make, and so we make brilliant music

We make brilliant bands

We make goals that make souls leap from seats in the stands

On stage, everyday political foes became temporary allies. Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn, home secretary Amber Rudd, Lib Dem leader Tim Farron, Mayor of Greater Manchester Andy Burnham and house speaker John Bercow all brushed shoulders. Their message was clear: "we are Manchester too."

The vigil lasted a little over half an hour. On other occasions, a crowd this size in the centre of Manchester would give authorities reason for concern. But not this time. Everyone was in their best behaviour. Only a few were drinking. 

As Mancunians made their way home, I went over to a family that had been standing not far from me during the vigil. The two children, a boy and a girl, both not older than 10, were clutching their parents' hands the whole time. I asked dad if he will give them a few extra hugs and kisses as he tucks them in tonight. "Oh, absolutely," he said. "Some parents whose children went to the concert last night won't ever get to do that again. It's heartbreaking."

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.

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