Why the Lib Dems won't be choosing their coalition partner anytime soon

If the election results in another hung parliament, the party will side with whichever partner gives it the most liberal government.

So Nick Clegg suggests George Osborne is on the verge of making a monumental mistake, next thing you know Ed Balls is describing Nick as a man of integrity, suddenly there’s a Twitter love-in going on, and everyone acts like we may as well not bother with the 2015 general election, as a Lib-Lab coalition is a done deal. Coaliscious

Or is it?

Well, as Labour figures get increasingly nervous about whether it will be able to achieve a majority in 2015, you can see why they are suddenly making rather kinder noises about Nick than ever before. They’ve been positioning themselves as more Lib Dem friendly for a while now, with their adoption of policies like the Mansion Tax and low carbon energy targets, partly to secure the 2010 Lib Dem voters that have moved to them already, but also just in case the next election result leads to coalition negotiations with the Lib Dems. As it seems increasingly likely that Nick will be leading the party into that election, a softening of attitudes towards him was also inevitable.

But is the feeling really mutual?

I suspect the true feelings of the Westminster Lib Dems are better expressed when you look at the press release put out on Tuesday by the red-hot favourite to be next deputy leader of the party, Lorely Burt, where she said:

“I would also stand up for the Liberal Democrat Party’s core values of fairness and economic responsibility, which the Conservatives and Labour are incapable of delivering on their own.

“As we draw the battle lines for the next General Election against both the other major parties, I want to see the Liberal Democrats continuing to deliver more jobs, lower taxes for ordinary workers, and a fairer start in life through free school meals and help with childcare.”

In other words, a plague on both your houses.

The Lib Dems have consistently refused to say which side they would jump to if a repeat of the 2010 result happened. Rather, we’ll be talking to the largest party first – but not necessarily uniquely. And let’s not even get into the scenario where the Tories have the most votes but Labour have more seats.

Sure it's lovely when Ed Balls starts making cow eyes in your direction. But if the votes fall for a coalition, we’ll be looking for whichever partner gives us the most liberal government. We’re a way off deciding whose Prom invite we’ll be accepting just yet.

David Cameron, Nick Clegg and Ed Miliband attend a ceremony at Buckingham Palace to mark the Duke of Edinburgh's 90th birthday on June 30, 2011. Photograph: Getty Images.

Richard Morris blogs at A View From Ham Common, which was named Best New Blog at the 2011 Lib Dem Conference

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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