Both Umunna and Cameron discussed "consensus". Photos: Getty
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Chuka Umunna and David Cameron's consensus on what business rifts mean for Labour

Both the shadow business secretary and Prime Minister suggest how harmful business rifts could be for Ed Miliband.

Watching the British Chambers of Commerce (BCC) conference today, the link between David Cameron and Chuka Umunna's speeches to business leaders was striking. Both made points about political consensus on business policy, and it appears they have both concluded what party political business rifts mean: bad news for Labour.

The Prime Minister made a crafty political point when he compared Ed Miliband's attitude to enterprise with those of his predecessors:

I want to say something very frank. I’ve sat in parliament from 2001 to 2015. For the first nine years of that, I had opposite me on those green benches Tony Blair and Gordon Brown . . . and whatever else we disagreed on, we agreed that business is the generator of growth. That long-held consensus in British politics is now over.

His aim was clear: capitalise on the New Labour figures, like Peter Mandelson, who are making unwelcome interventions concerning Miliband's relationship with business, and suggest to the country that there is now only one party on the side of business.

Chuka Umunna also referred to "consensus":

Maybe it's controversial to say this in Westminster – there is a lot more consensus around business policy than [you're] led to believe.

The emphasis of the shadow business secretary's comment, made during a Q+A following his speech, was that the gulf between Labour and Tory approaches to British business is nowhere near as great as suggested by the press and Labour's detractors.

Both seem to subscribe to a consensus on one thing: Labour being perceived as too distant from the Tories, or the previous government, on business could harm the party electorally.

Update 17.14

A source close to Umunna tells me: "The context of Chuka's remarks on consensus was Cameron's overly party political tone. By turning up and making such a party political speech today, and by using Tory donors to attack Labour, he is undermining what business leaders want – political parties working together where they agree, and not simply abolishing what previous governments have done."

Indeed, Umunna mentioned in his speech his "motto" for if he becomes Business Secretary in the next governement: "Continuity wherever possible; change only where necessary." This approach will appeal to a business community exasperated by party politics and the electoral cycle hindering its stability.

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood