"I'm just a regular guy . . ."

Guinness-drinking David Cameron and internet-shopping Gordon Brown try to "out-normal" each other.

David Cameron made headlines today after an interview with Shortlist magazine, in which he enthusiastically went for the "I'm just a regular guy" approach favoured by Tony Blair.

Hot on the heels of Gordon Brown's interview with Piers Morgan, does this signal a new line of competition? One along the lines of: "Forget policy; let's just see how many mundane details of your daily routine you can share."

Here are some highlights from Dave's interview:

"Along with draught Guinness in cans, Sky+ is one of the great inventions of our time."

"I have been known to go a bit soft on Lark Rise to Candleford, but normally [I watch] quite gritty dramas and movies."

"I don't have image consultants; I don't have too many minders. Obviously, I've got a team of people who help me with everything, but family time is family time."

"Genuinely, I do my own shopping and cook my own food, and all those things that you do as a family dad."

"When I'm writing a speech for myself, or think about what I'm trying to say, I try to think about it in the way that comes most naturally to me to say it. So when I think of the big conference speech I did without the notes, I didn't learn that. I wrote down the things I wanted to say. I thought about it a lot. I went through it in my head a lot and then I made the speech. It wasn't memorised. I couldn't memorise that, I'm not a Shakespearean actor, I couldn't memorise an hour-and-ten-minute-long speech." [NB. I think he wants to emphasise that he didn't memorise it.]

Disappointingly, Gordon Brown didn't get as far as telling us what he watches on telly and how much he loves sports and booze, but -- not to be outdone -- he did pre-empt Cameron by sharing some details about where he buys his food:

"It's very funny, we order [food] from the internet and Sarah orders from Downing Street. And the first days that I was in the job of Prime Minister and Sarah started to order from one of the supermarkets they wouldn't send it. They thought it was a joke. They didn't believe it. So I don't go much to the supermarket."

"The greatest perk for me is that you're living in a building where you can both work and see your family."

But how do these two compare to Tony Blair, arguably the master of the "relaxed" soundbite:

"Call me Tony." [On being elected, 1997]

"I think most people who have dealt with me think I am a pretty straight sort of guy, and I am." [Speaking on On the Record after the Formula One issue, November 1997]

''We're very close as a family, but I think you'd be surprised to know just how completely normal our family life is. I mean, I do the same things, more or less, as any bloke does with his kids.'' [Speaking to the New York Times in 2000]

Conclusion? Blair still takes the biscuit, but Cameron is certainly giving him a run for his money. With his emphasis on getting rid of spin, minders and, er, speech-notes, his underlying message seems to be: "I'm so normal that I can even out-normal Blair, who wasn't that normal a guy, really, because he put so much effort into sounding normal . . . not like me."

Watch this space for the inevitable "Call me Dave".

Follow the New Statesman team on Twitter.

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

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The economics of outrage: Why you haven't seen the end of Katie Hopkins

Her distasteful tweet may have cost her a job at LBC, but this isn't the last we've seen of Britain's biggest troll. 

Another atrocity, other surge of grief and fear, and there like clockwork was the UK’s biggest troll. Hours after the explosion at the Manchester Arena that killed 22 mostly young and female concert goers, Katie Hopkins weighed in with a very on-brand tweet calling for a “final solution” to the complex issue of terrorism.

She quickly deleted it, replacing the offending phrase with the words “true solution”, but did not tone down the essentially fascist message. Few thought it had been an innocent mistake on the part of someone unaware of the historical connotations of those two words.  And no matter how many urged their fellow web users not to give Hopkins the attention she craved, it still sparked angry tweets, condemnatory news articles and even reports to the police.

Hopkins has lost her presenting job at LBC radio, but she is yet to lose her column at Mail Online, and it’s quite likely she won’t.

Mail Online and its print counterpart The Daily Mail have regularly shown they are prepared to go down the deliberately divisive path Hopkins was signposting. But even if the site's managing editor Martin Clarke was secretly a liberal sandal-wearer, there are also very good economic reasons for Mail Online to stick with her. The extreme and outrageous is great at gaining attention, and attention is what makes money for Mail Online.

It is ironic that Hopkins’s career was initially helped by TV’s attempts to provide balance. Producers could rely on her to provide a counterweight to even the most committed and rational bleeding-heart liberal.

As Patrick Smith, a former media specialist who is currently a senior reporter at BuzzFeed News points out: “It’s very difficult for producers who are legally bound to be balanced, they will sometimes literally have lawyers in the room.”

“That in a way is why some people who are skirting very close or beyond the bounds of taste and decency get on air.”

But while TV may have made Hopkins, it is online where her extreme views perform best.  As digital publishers have learned, the best way to get the shares, clicks and page views that make them money is to provoke an emotional response. And there are few things as good at provoking an emotional response as extreme and outrageous political views.

And in many ways it doesn’t matter whether that response is negative or positive. Those who complain about what Hopkins says are also the ones who draw attention to it – many will read what she writes in order to know exactly why they should hate her.

Of course using outrageous views as a sales tactic is not confined to the web – The Daily Mail prints columns by Sarah Vine for a reason - but the risks of pushing the boundaries of taste and decency are greater in a linear, analogue world. Cancelling a newspaper subscription or changing radio station is a simpler and often longer-lasting act than pledging to never click on a tempting link on Twitter or Facebook. LBC may have had far more to lose from sticking with Hopkins than Mail Online does, and much less to gain. Someone prepared to say what Hopkins says will not be out of work for long. 

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