The eurosceptic backlash spreads to the cabinet

Duncan Smith raises concerns over failure of Cameron's "veto".

I wrote this morning that to maintain momentum, the latest Tory revolt over Europe needed a frontbencher, most likely Iain Duncan Smith or Owen Paterson, to speak out. Since then, it's emerged that both of them did just that at today's cabinet meeting. According to the Prime Minister's official spokesman, Duncan Smith raised legal concerns over the use of EU institutions by the EU 25, while Paterson asked about trade and "more generally about the debate on the eurozone".

It's not hard to see why Duncan Smith, in particular, is troubled by Cameron's willingness to allow the eurozone countries to use EU-wide institutions to enforce their new "fiscal compact". Just look at what he told Andrew Marr on Sunday:


And didn't want the EU structures to be part of this, but we've now ...


(over) Well he's vetoed, but he's vetoed.


(over) ... it now looks as if the EU structures are going to be part of it.


I wouldn't let speculation go too far. The fact is the Prime Minister vetoed them using the institutions, and he's always said that veto was because we had no guarantees that what they were proposing would not damage the single market or, for that matter, would actually cause problems to the financial sector. And we don't know what they're coming forward with yet. They still haven't completed their treaty and they aren't anywhere near signing it, and we don't know that everybody will go down that road with them. So best to wait until we get there to figure out what it is that they're actually coming forward with.

But the truth, as IDS will now be painfully aware, is that Cameron's "veto" didn't prevent the EU 25 from using the European Commission and the European Court of Justice to police the new treaty. Nick Clegg, meanwhile, having previously described Cameron's actions as "bad for Britain", reportedly "agreed" with his approach at yesterday's summit.

With the cabinet's leading europhile in agreement and its leading eurosceptic in dissent, Tory MPs will only feel empowered to continue their rebellion.

George Eaton is political 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