Commons Confidential: Don't let them eat cake

David Cameron's quest for youth, plus the mystery of Ed Miliband's make-up.

Weighty issues burdening David Cameron include a descent into portliness. In a reverse of Marie Antoinette, the Tory toff pleads: “Don’t let them eat cake.” My snout says that Cameron complains whenever Downing Street apparatchiks eat pastries in front of him. Dave, or Fat Dave, as Old Etonian chums know the Prime Muncher, is losing his battle to keep off those pounds. He realises, with some justification, that extra padding with hair loss is a sign of ageing, just when he craves a youthful appeal.

No 10 staffers are desperate for Cameron’s confidante Gabby Bertin to return from maternity leave to resume her bunwatch. Dough Ball Dave prefers breakfast meetings to be food-free – an austerity policy recently objected to by one hungry Liberian emissary who’d just got off a plane from Africa.

I bring you a private encounter illustrating Barack Obama’s widening rift with Cameron over the Euroscepticism of the ConDem coalition’s Con majority. The White House wants Britain to remain part of the European Union, as does Cameron when pressed – though he never misses an opportunity to snipe at the EU.

A favourite target of Tory hostility is Cathy Ashton, the Brussels Brit who is high representative for foreign affairs. Ashton is held in higher regard in the US than in right-whinge circles this side of the Atlantic. During last year’s Nato summit in Chicago, an informant recalls, Cameron opined snidely: “We don’t see much of Cathy these days.” “That,” replied Obama, “is because Cathy’s a world leader.” Obama may not know “Jeff” Osborne but he has Cathy’s number.

The unlikely heart-throb Lord Wood, a Miliband consigliere voted prettier than the Tories’ pin-up Zac Goldsmith by Telegraph online readers, all presumably awaiting cataract operations, is the recipient of an unusual request. Wood met the correspondent’s call to vote for same-sex marriage but a second request is more problematic: “Additionally, if you knew of any male aristocrat that would like to marry me, much appreciated.” Wood wished the chap luck in his quest for an eligible male aristo and, wisely, declined to play matchmaker.

More on those lasagne by Ed “Beefy” Balls auctioned for £8,500 at a Labour fundraiser. The shadow chancellor promised to chuck in a couple of green salads and serve the dishes in a pinny. Mercifully, he assured me, with his trousers on.

Workers of the world united to save the human race at the RMT. A recording of that left-wing anthem, “The Internationale”, was played every morning at the union’s conference in Brighton.

Does Ed Miliband wear make-up? The Labour leader’s face appeared powdered at the New Statesman’s centenary bash. Mili’s abrupt “No” when your columnist asked only served to fuel my suspicions.

Kevin Maguire is the associate editor (politics) of the Daily Mirror

An artist's impression of Ed Miliband's make-up by Dan Murrell for the New Statesman

Kevin Maguire is Associate Editor (Politics) on the Daily Mirror and author of our Commons Confidential column on the high politics and low life in Westminster. An award-winning journalist, he is in frequent demand on television and radio and co-authored a book on great parliamentary scandals. He was formerly Chief Reporter on the Guardian and Labour Correspondent on the Daily Telegraph.

This article first appeared in the 01 July 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Brazil erupts

Getty
Show Hide image

An alternative Trainspotting script for John Humphrys’ Radio 4 “Choose Life” tribute

Born chippy.

Your mole often has Radio 4’s Today programme babbling away comfortingly in the background while emerging blinking from the burrow. So imagine its horror this morning, when the BBC decided to sully this listening experience with John Humphrys doing the “Choose Life” monologue from Trainspotting.

“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Radio 4?” he concluded, as a nation cringed.

Introduced as someone who has “taken issue with modernity”, Humphrys launched into the film character Renton’s iconic rant against the banality of modern life.

But Humphrys’ role as in-studio curmudgeon is neither endearing nor amusing to this mole. Often tasked with stories about modern technology and digital culture by supposedly mischievous editors, Humphrys sounds increasingly cranky and ill-informed. It doesn’t exactly make for enlightening interviews. So your mole has tampered with the script. Here’s what he should have said:

“Choose life. Choose a job and then never retire, ever. Choose a career defined by growling and scoffing. Choose crashing the pips three mornings out of five. Choose a fucking long contract. Choose interrupting your co-hosts, politicians, religious leaders and children. Choose sitting across the desk from Justin Webb at 7.20 wondering what you’re doing with your life. Choose confusion about why Thought for the Day is still a thing. Choose hogging political interviews. Choose anxiety about whether Jim Naughtie’s departure means there’s dwindling demand for grouchy old men on flagship political radio shows. Choose a staunch commitment to misunderstanding stories about video games and emoji. Choose doing those stories anyway. Choose turning on the radio and wondering why the fuck you aren’t on on a Sunday morning as well. Choose sitting on that black leather chair hosting mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows (Mastermind). Choose going over time at the end of it all, pishing your last few seconds on needlessly combative questions, nothing more than an obstacle to that day’s editors being credited. Choose your future. Choose life . . .”

I'm a mole, innit.