How Boris is spoiling Cameron's EU speech in advance

The Mayor's demand for an EU referendum before 2015 means it will be harder for Cameron to impress.

There is no prospect of David Cameron staging an EU referendum before 2015, so it was typically mischievous of Boris Johnson to declare this morning that it would be "fantastic" if one were to be held before the next election. Such interventions by Boris mean that Cameron's plan to offer a referendum after 2015 on "a new settlement" for Britain (to be announced in his long-delayed speech on Europe) will inevitably disappoint. The PM declared this week: "Thanks for reminding me that my Europe speech remains as yet unmade. This is a tantric approach to policy-making: it'll be even better when it does eventually come." But conscious of the growing threat from UKIP, many Tory MPs will complain that a vote can't be held sooner. The presence of the Lib Dems in goverment, however, leaves Cameron with little choice.

Boris also added to the Prime Minister's woes by arguing that the UK should be prepared to leave the EU if it proves unable to secure radically changed terms of membership. "That is correct, absolutely correct [that Britain should be prepared to exit the EU]," he said. "I don’t think that [leaving the EU] is necessarily the end of the world.

"Don’t forget that 15 years ago the entire CBI, British Industry, the City, everybody was prophesying that there’d be gigantic mutant rats with two or three eyes swarming out of the gutters, the sewers, to gnaw the faces of the remaining British bankers because we didn’t go into the euro. My preferred option is for us to stay in there. I will stress [leaving] is not my preferred option."

Cameron's referendum is expected to offer voters a choice between renegotiated membership and withdrawal, but the PM will struggle to prevent many Tories arguing for the latter, regardless of the concessions he extracts from Brussels. The promise of a vote on Europe will only prove the start of his problems, not the end.

Mayor of London Boris Johnson said leaving the EU would not be "the end of the world". Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Getty
Show Hide image

What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

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 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times