Alan Johnson slams the coalition cuts

And talks about the challenges of his "big, big job"

In an interview with the Observer published today, Alan Johnson has voiced criticisms of the coalition's economic policies from his new role as shadow chancellor. He said the proposed 25 per cent spending cuts could "fundamentally alter our community" and were going to "cause huge harm to our public services".

The appointment of Johnson to the job of shadow chancellor has led to some questioning his expertise, especially compared to the other obvious choices for the position, Ed Balls and Yvette Cooper. In the interview, Johnson tackles the doubters head on:

"You don't need to be a professor of economics to be a Treasury minister... I will do this job the way I have done other jobs. I would not pretend to be the greatest gift to the cabinet but I have done five cabinet jobs and I have done them OK... It is about getting up to speed very quickly and it is about listening to people. Particularly in this brief it is more about listening to people than reading up. I am not going to do an economics degree in the next few months."

It is a characteristically self-deprecating assessment of his career. Some might think, however, that reading up is exactly what he should be doing, but as my colleague Mehdi Hasan pointed out yesterday, Johnson's personability, humour and background (especially in contrast to his privileged opponent on the Conservative front bench) will give him a particular strength and appeal. Johnson comes across in person and in politics as normal, human and humble - qualities you might argue are sometimes lacking in the Chancellor himself. Whether he should go on referring to his lack of learning in economics is, however, questionable. He might not be planning to do an economics degree, but he has very little time before the spending review to steel himself for the fight, and against the inevitable accusations of economic ignorance.

Sophie Elmhirst is features 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