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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If there’s no booze or naked women, what’s the point of being a footballer?

Peter Crouch came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

At a professional league ground near you, the following conversation will be taking place. After an excellent morning training session, in which the players all worked hard, and didn’t wind up the assistant coach they all hate, or cut the crotch out of the new trousers belonging to the reserve goalie, the captain or some senior player will go into the manager’s office.

“Hi, gaffer. Just thought I’d let you know that we’ve booked the Salvation Hall. They’ll leave the table-tennis tables in place, so we’ll probably have a few games, as it’s the players’ Christmas party, OK?”

“FECKING CHRISTMAS PARTY!? I TOLD YOU NO CHRISTMAS PARTIES THIS YEAR. NOT AFTER LAST YEAR. GERROUT . . .”

So the captain has to cancel the booking – which was actually at the Salvation Go Go Gentlemen’s Club on the high street, plus the Saucy Sporty Strippers, who specialise in naked table tennis.

One of the attractions for youths, when they dream of being a footballer or a pop star, is not just imagining themselves number one in the Prem or number one in the hit parade, but all the girls who’ll be clambering for them. Young, thrusting politicians have similar fantasies. Alas, it doesn’t always work out.

Today, we have all these foreign managers and foreign players coming here, not pinching our women (they’re too busy for that), but bringing foreign customs about diet and drink and no sex at half-time. Rotters, ruining the simple pleasures of our brave British lads which they’ve enjoyed for over a century.

The tabloids recently went all pious when poor old Wayne Rooney was seen standing around drinking till the early hours at the England team hotel after their win over Scotland. He’d apparently been invited to a wedding that happened to be going on there. What I can’t understand is: why join a wedding party for total strangers? Nothing more boring than someone else’s wedding. Why didn’t he stay in the bar and get smashed?

Even odder was the behaviour of two other England stars, Adam Lallana and Jordan Henderson. They made a 220-mile round trip from their hotel in Hertfordshire to visit a strip club, For Your Eyes Only, in Bournemouth. Bournemouth! Don’t they have naked women in Herts? I thought one of the points of having all these millions – and a vast office staff employed by your agent – is that anything you want gets fixed for you. Why couldn’t dancing girls have been shuttled into another hotel down the road? Or even to the lads’ own hotel, dressed as French maids?

In the years when I travelled with the Spurs team, it was quite common in provincial towns, after a Saturday game, for players to pick up girls at a local club and share them out.

Like top pop stars, top clubs have fixers who can sort out most problems, and pleasures, as well as smart solicitors and willing police superintendents to clear up the mess afterwards.

The England players had a night off, so they weren’t breaking any rules, even though they were going to play Spain 48 hours later. It sounds like off-the-cuff, spontaneous, home-made fun. In Wayne’s case, he probably thought he was doing good, being approachable, as England captain.

Quite why the other two went to Bournemouth was eventually revealed by one of the tabloids. It is Lallana’s home town. He obviously said to Jordan Henderson, “Hey Hendo, I know a cool club. They always look after me. Quick, jump into my Bentley . . .”

They spent only two hours at the club. Henderson drank water. Lallana had a beer. Don’t call that much of a night out.

In the days of Jimmy Greaves, Tony Adams, Roy Keane, or Gazza in his pomp, they’d have been paralytic. It was common for players to arrive for training still drunk, not having been to bed.

Peter Crouch, the former England player, 6ft 7in, now on the fringes at Stoke, came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

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 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage