Chuka Umunna, Yvette Cooper and Andy Burnham at Labour's manifesto launch. Photograph: Getty Images.
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How hard will it be for Labour to win the next election?

Boundary changes, Scotland and a new Tory leader mean the task is formidable. But five years is an eternity in politics. 

As they adjust to the strange new world of a Conservative majority, Labour MPs' minds have quickly turned to how they win next time. The belief of many that the last election was lost in the opening months of the 2010 parliament - when the party elected Ed Miliband and failed to rebut the Tories' account of the crash - means the coming leadership contest is regarded as particularly crucial. A fierce debate is underway over whether a short, six-week election should be held or whether, as in 2010, the party needs an extended debate about its future. Which option is favoured partly depends on the preferred candidate. MPs believe that a short contest would favour Andy Burnham and Yvette Cooper, the most experienced contenders, over relative newcomers Chuka Umunna, Liz Kendall, Dan Jarvis and Tristram Hunt (all elected in 2010 or, in Jarvis's case, in 2011). A longer contest would give the "clean skins" more time to establish themselves. 

Labour's NEC will meet on Wednesday to agree a timetable for the leadership and deputy leadership contests. Under the party's rules, MPs need to be nominated by 15 per cent of the PLP (up from 12.5% in 2010) meaning there will be a maximum of six candidates (each needing to win over 35 of Labour's 232 MPs). 

For whoever wins, the challenge is a formidable one. Labour needs 94 gains to achieve a majority, a feat that only the Liberals in 1906 and Labour in 1945 have achieved from a starting point so weak. To add to this arithmetical Everest, the Tories will use their new-found majority to pass the boundary changes previously vetoed by the Lib Dems, increasing their standing by around 20 seats. At the next election, whether in 2020 or earlier, Labour will also have to contend with a new Conservative leader, most likely Boris Johnson or Theresa May, who may revive the party's support just at the moment it is flagging (as John Major did in 1990). The final great obstacle to a Labour victory is Scotland, where most believe it will take a generation, rather than merely a single term, to end the SNP's hegemony. 

But MPs are consoling themselves with the knowledge that if a week is a long time in politics, five years is an eternity. Just months after their triumph in 1992, the Tories' economic reputation was destroyed overnight by Black Wednesday. The scale of cuts planned over the new five years, the risk of a housing or banking crash and possible EU withdrawal all mean that a similarly epochal event cannot be ruled out. And if, as in 1994, Labour elects a leader with wide-ranging appeal, there is no reason it cannot win a majority. The lesson of this election, in which Cameron defied prediction by increasing the Tories' vote share, is to never dismiss what is thought impossible. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

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 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times