Sell: Cable, Umunna, IDS; Buy: sensible backbench Tories

The New Statesman’s political investment guide for 2013.

It has been a turbulent year for Westminster trading. Stock in pretty much everyone and everything has fallen. It’s bearish out there. The outlook for next year is hardly less gloomy. National reserves of trust are at an all-time low. Scarcity of imagination and competence will continue. The market is over-supplied with mediocrity.

Here we present the New Statesman’s political investment guide for 2013.


All three of the main party leaders Ed Miliband, Nick Clegg and David Cameron all look relatively secure in their positions. Miliband is unassailable as long as his party is leading opinion polls. Cameron will be undermined by rebellious backbenchers but will, true to past form, make sufficient concessions to ward off the threat of a credible challenge. The overwhelming majority of Tories recognise the absence of a ready alternative. The Liberal Democrats can hardly be satisfied with their position but a majority seem to accept that unpopularity is a necessary consequence of becoming a party of government and that Clegg, as the man who is leading them on that journey, deserves more time to make it work.

George Osborne and Ed Balls  Alike in more ways than either man likes to admit, neither is liked but both are proven operators with serious staying power.

Boris Johnson The London Mayor can’t advance up the political ladder any further until he is an MP and he can’t run for parliament before the next general election without it looking like the start of a leadership bid but with no vacancy – a very exposed position. So he has to bide his time. But too many disgruntled Tories find him useful as a theoretical foil to Cameron for his stock to fall yet.


Sensible backbench Tories The Conservative leadership will be desperate next year to push forward some moderate voices to counteract the high profile enjoyed by Anglo-Tea Party, Ukip-lite fanatics. Conservatives who sound reasonable and do a good impression of belonging to 21st Century Britain are bound to start cutting through a little bit more. Lesser-known moderate Tories, such as Damien Hinds, MP for East Hampshire, and Alok Sharma, MP for Reading West are worth a look.

Fiscally serious Labour people The premium on Labour MPs who actually think about practical policy responses at a time of austerity is sure to go up. Liz Kendall, shadow social care minister, has a realistic understanding of the fiscal challenge and a detailed grasp of a vital brief. Likwise, Stella Creasy, MP for Walthamstow and scourge of payday lenders. She combines a clear attack line on the rapacious end of immoral capitalism with a quiet commitment to budget discipline. And she doesn’t speak in tedious robotic jargon as pumped out by the party press office.

Chris Huhne? One for the bargain-hunters. There are reports – as yet unconfirmed – that charges of perverting the course of justice that finished the former Energy Secretary’s cabinet career might be dropped. That would open the way for a return to active politics. He’s far too unpopular among Tories and mistrusted by Clegg to get a front line job. But he has enough support in the party rank and file to start causing mischief and right now the price is at rock bottom.


Vince Cable The Business Secretary is seriously over-priced as a consequence of Labour and Tory people ramping up the idea of him replacing Clegg as Lib Dem leader, largely just to destabilise the third party. It won’t happen. Cable doesn’t have a big enough base among Lib Dem MPs and, in any case, he wouldn’t want to be the man to wield the knife against Clegg, knowing that doing so would diminish his chances of wearing the crown. The Cable leadership talk is a bubble.

Chuka Umunna Shares in Cable’s opposite number on the Labour front bench, Chuka Umunna, have also been trading high for most of 2012. Umunna is talked up as a potential leader of his party one day. He looks and sounds good on television; he has avoided being associated too strongly with any wing of the party. But his rapid elevation through the ranks and high profile have made him a figure of envy and irritation on his own side. Questions are also starting to be asked about the rigour and depth of his economic analysis. As shadow business secretary he should be the face of Miliband’s quest for more responsible capitalism, which means leading an economic operation of sufficient gravitas to rival the more reactionary story coming out of the shadow chancellor’s office. Is Umunna heavyweight enough to counter-balance Ed Balls? Doubtful.

Andrew Mitchell On the Tory side there has been a sudden rally in Andrew Mitchell’s stock, following revelations that cast doubt on the police version of events in the “plebgate” story that finished his career as International Development Secretary. Westminster has been piling into Mitchells on the assumption that he can now return to front line politics. I’m not so sure. He didn’t resign exclusively because of what he was alleged to have said but because so few Tories felt like defending him and plenty were gleefully putting the boot in. The angry temperament that got him into trouble in the first place has plainly left a long trail of resentment that will not be forgotten quickly. This is not a man who can easily slot back into government where he left off. His current rehabilitation is a dead-cat bounce.

Iain Duncan-Smith The Work and Pensions Secretary is feted as a pioneer of “compassionate” Conservatism. Few question his moral determination to make welfare reform a mechanism to rehabilitate poor communities by helping those on benefits back into work. Sadly, that ambition is being undone by cuts inflicted by the Chancellor and by general lack of competence at every level in DWP. 2013 is the year flagship welfare reforms run aground.

Then of course there’s the alternative investment market. George Galloway’s price surely peaked in Bradford in 2012. His ambition is plainly to use Respect as the vehicle for a hard left personality cult built around him. His personality isn't attractive enough to make that work at a national level. On the right, Ukip will continue to make angry mischief up until at least 2014 elections to the European parliament. It could be worth dabbling in Farages now, but switch to safer Tory stocks before the general election.

General warning: the New Statesman is not responsible for views formed on the basis of this advice. Remember, politicians’ reputations can even further down as well as just down.

Vince Cable: "the Business Secretary is seriously over-priced". Photograph: Getty Images.

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

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One of the best things about football? It allows you to hate people

Every team has its hard man. Is there anything more satisfying than booing them?

Football as therapy. Football is therapy. It is hard to sit for two hours in a packed stadium with 50,000 people roaring and shouting and not forget all the boring, niggling things pelting your brain in your everyday life, such as: have I done the washing?

You see these otherwise staid and buttoned-up gents – QCs and consultants and editors – standing up, punching the air for joy, when a goal goes in. Or holding their head in misery and muttering, “F*****’ hell!” if it doesn’t. Would they do that in their office, in their chambers, in their normal, buttoned-up life?

Football is escape. Football is comradeship. You have a tribal loyalty, usually inherited, in which you are part of a greater whole, regardless of your age or background, and you can commune with all ages and classes. Following a football team means you belong.

One other aspect of being a football fan that is rarely acknowledged is hatred. Football allows you to hate someone, express it openly, stand up and boo. There’s a role for baddies in football.

I used to enjoy it at Spurs when they were playing Arsenal. The boos of derision started the moment Tony Adams appeared. And when he put his hand up to let the ref know that there was an offside, which he did all the time – even in the tunnel, probably, or on the coach – the Spurs fans went mad with fury and delight.

The abuse was fairly harmless: perhaps a few donkey noises. I’m sure that Adams was amused but otherwise unaffected by the jeers.

In the Sixties and Seventies, crowds across the First Division greatly enjoyed booing Tommy Smith of Liverpool. He looked like such a pantomime villain, with his dodgy, droopy moustache and pockmarked face. He was the ultimate destroyer, clattering everybody, priding himself on showing no pain, immediately getting up when he’d been thumped. “Tommy Smith was not born,” Bill Shankly used to say. “He was quarried.” We booed him but we all wished that we had him in our team. Did he not eat razor blades for breakfast?

There were so many of them at the time, almost all defenders, who got booed by rival fans the minute their names were read out. Chopper Harris of Chelsea was so named because he chopped them down. Vinnie Jones was sometimes called “Psycho”, but the nickname really belonged to Stuart Pearce.

Nobby Stiles was a weedy little scrap – how could he do any damage? But he did, kicking everyone. Jack Charlton was big and ugly, clumsy and lumpen. He looked like a hard man. That was his job.

You could also hate and boo players who you thought were fancy Dans, too clever by half, such as Cristiano Ronaldo in his Man United days, or players promoted above their talents, such as Gary Neville. Away crowds enjoyed chanting, “If Neville plays for England, so can I!” It wasn’t just that we thought he wasn’t much good, but that he was bossy and self-righteous, the foreman figure, considering himself to be a cut above the rest.

Graeme Souness was definitely a hard man. Though we booed, we could appreciate how clever and cunning he was. The same goes for Roy Keane. Every team used to have a hard man who got stuck in, made agricultural tackles, left his calling card, and other euphemisms for how his job was to scare the hell out of the other team. But where have they all gone? Players don’t kick other players up in the air like they once did. Even our centre-halves are ballplayers now, expected to play nice – John Stones, for example.

They don’t build them like Vinnie Jones any more. They breed them thin and weedy. Lionel Messi, the best player of our age, was known in his younger days as “the Flea”.

However, there is one present-day baddie roaming the Premiership, and he is a centre-forward. He looks like a hard man from an earlier age, with his stage moustache, unshaven jaws, lined face and deep-set eyes, always furious, always about to lash out, always protesting. Let’s hear it for Chelsea’s Spanish striker – Diego Costa. BOOO! BOOO! There, that feels better. 

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 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood