The real reason the right is baying for Denis MacShane's blood

The former Labour MP has been targeted because he's the EU's greatest defender, not because of his expenses.

What’s really going on with this new police investigation into Denis MacShane’s expenses? Months ago, the police said there would be no charges, and there’s no new information. There’s a reason why they have suddenly reopened it, now of all times, and it’s got nothing at all to do with Denis’s expenses, and everything to do with David Cameron’s speech about Europe.

I’m not excusing MacShane (who, incidentally, is an old chum – but I’d be writing this if I’d never met him.) He had £7,000 of public money which – or some of which - he wasn’t entitled to, and claimed the money in a way which made it look dishonest even if it wasn’t. The money didn’t go into his own pocket. In a desperate attempt to save his career, he has paid back much more than £7,000 and spent another £40,000 on lawyers.

Liberal Democrat MP David Laws was recently restored to the cabinet, having, apparently, suffered enough for incorrectly claiming more than £40,000 – almost six times as much as MacShane’s £7,000. Laws, like MacShane, did not do it for gain. He didn’t need the money, for Laws, unlike MacShane, is a very rich man. He wouldn’t cross the road for £7,000.

So how come Laws sits demurely on the government benches, and MacShane risks sitting in a prison cell? The clue lies in the identities of the people who have been screaming for MacShane’s blood, and whose pressure has forced the police to reopen their investigations.

They are led by right-wing blogger Guido Fawkes, whose delight that he may be able to get the hated MacShane locked up is revolting in its slavering vindictiveness. Hearing the news, Fawkes asked: "Is it too early to open the champagne on a Monday morning?"

He and several right-wing Tories are desperate to see MacShane locked up. Why? The answer lies in a piece by the relatively civilised europhobe Daniel Hannan (who, to his credit, hasn’t joined the lynch mob.) He wrote after MacShane resigned from Parliament: "Who will the BBC find to defend Brussels on air? Seriously – who?" Right now that’s a question that matters rather a lot.

Vengeful right-wing bigots like Guido Fawkes hate him, not because of his expenses, but because he is – or was - easily the most fluent and authoritative advocate for the EU.

Former Europe minister Denis MacShane, who resigned as Labour MP for Rotherham last year. Photograph: Getty Images.
Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

Tim Shipman's Diary

The Sunday Times political editor on poker, pasta – and being called fat by Andrew Marr.

A couple of Saturdays ago, I was having dinner with my wife at Padella (which serves the best pasta in London) when the phone rang. It was an irate David Davis. “You’re reporting that a friend of mine has said Philip May wants Theresa to quit. It’s not true. I don’t even know Philip May.” I calmly explained that I wasn’t accusing him and I had his friend on tape. “Who was it?” he asked me. I wasn’t saying. “Well, it’s not bloody helpful,” the Brexit Secretary said before hanging up.

The following day, I woke up to watch Philip Hammond explain to the BBC’s Andrew Marr why his cabinet colleagues had leaked me details of how the Chancellor had branded public-sector workers as “overpaid”. “I don’t know who [Tim Shipman’s] sources are,” he said, after inaccurately suggesting that I was being fed information as part of some Brexiteer conspiracy to discredit the cabinet’s leading Remainer.

On Monday, I did an interview with Eddie Mair in the back of a beer garden in Ireland, where I’m playing cricket. In reality, the leaks had much more to do with colleagues irritated at Hammond’s sometimes grating behaviour. Word reaches me that he regards it all as very unhelpful. It seems odd after 16 years in political journalism to have to say this, but we’re not here to be helpful. It might make sense if our politicians gave us less to write about. Over the past three years, they have delighted us enough.

Back for seconds

Voter fatigue is a recognised problem. No one talks about journalist fatigue. We all hope that Theresa May rejuvenates on her Swiss walk (perhaps regenerating into Jodie Whittaker). Thanks to the decision she took when she last went walking, I’m facing the obliteration of another summer holiday writing a second political tome covering the period since my Brexit book, All Out War, up to the general election. What looked at one stage like the boring second album is now a rip-roaring tale of hubris and nemesis. When I asked for title suggestions on Twitter, there were plenty of votes for “Mayhem” and “Mayday”. The most imaginative was: “The Snarling Duds of May”. Sadly, it’s too long for my publisher.

Catching the big fish

The new-found attention from writing books is a double-edged sword. To my delight, then embarrassment, Andrew Marr referred to me twice as “the doyen” of the print lobby. “We keep trying to stop him,” Marr’s editor, the redoubtable Rob Burley, confided at a rival magazine’s summer party. The following week, Marr said: “The biggest fish in the pool, if only physically, is Tim Shipman…” I got a text from a special adviser friend asking: “Are you paying him?” I pointed out that Britain’s best-known political interviewer had just called me a fat bastard live on national television.

New blood

I make my debut on BBC2’s Newsnight alongside Ash Sarkar of Novara Media, one of the new websites that cheerlead for Jeremy Corbyn. She is nerveless and fluent in her mid-twenties, when I was a tongue-tied naif. People who get the Corbyn phenomenon are rightly getting more airtime. Off the air, she tells me that she’s a “libertarian anarchist” and then asks me where I live. “Are you going to smash it up?” I ask nervously. She smiles. Ash’s main concern is to paint the town red in the Saturday-night sense. A Labour MP draws attention to her Twitter biog, which concludes: “Walks like a supermodel. Fucks like a champion. Luxury communism now!” Bravo. I think…

Brexit gamble

I was greatly cheered by the induction in the Poker Hall of Fame of the late Dave “Devil­fish” Ulliott, the player who did the most to create the TV and online poker boom in Britain. Westminster has a few useful card sharps – Paul Stephenson, formerly of Vote Leave, among them – but I don’t know any politicians who play. By contrast, the US presidents Harry Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon were all accomplished poker players.

When I worked in the US, I interviewed a member of Barack Obama’s poker circle when he was a state senator in Chicago. The cautious, composed and occasionally bold player he described was the mirror image of the politician we came to know. His Republican rival in 2008, John McCain, preferred the chaotic gambling of the craps table and his erratic campaign reflected that. Too many of the current cabinet seem to be dice men. What we wouldn’t give for Devilfish running the Brexit negotiations.

Blundering through

Anyone who has ever dealt with McCain would have been saddened by the news that he is suffering from brain cancer, but his resilience almost makes you feel sorry for the tumour. McCain is undoubtedly the most media-friendly politician I have ever met. When I travelled on his plane in 2008, he took every question from the foreign press pack and made us feel welcome. Through him, I also met Steve Duprey, the former boss of the New Hampshire Republicans. He was fond of explaining Duprey’s first law: “In politics, before considering malevolence, always assume incompetence.” I have had much cause to remind myself of that over the past three years.

Paranoid android

If you are looking for a summer read, I recommend Jonathan Allen’s and Amie Parnes’s Shattered, a great insider account of Hillary Clinton’s disastrous 2016 presidential election effort. It shows how a flawed candidate with little ability to connect with the public presided over a paranoid regime of advisers engaged in Shakespearean bloodletting that led to them coming a cropper when fighting a charismatic populist. On second thoughts, you could always wait to read my second book this autumn. 

Tim Shipman is the political editor of the Sunday Times. “All Out War” is now available in paperback (William Collins)

This article first appeared in the 27 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Summer double issue