Morning Call: pick of the papers

The ten must-read comment pieces from this morning's papers.

1. Osborne knows President Obama won by blaming a predecessor (Independent)

How to deal with the recent past is a big unresolved issue for Labour, writes Steve Richards.

2. The Petraeus affair is short on substance (Financial Times)

The scandal did not change how the general did his job or was regarded by colleagues, writes John Gapper.

3. Bercow and his bullies shame our Parliament (Daily Telegraph)

The Speaker is leading an ambush by MPs of the body set up to control their expenses, says Peter Oborne.

4. Forces for Change (Times) (£)

Today’s elections for police and crime commissioners will help to drive reform in a service that has resisted change, argues a Times editorial.

5. This Sri Lanka massacre shows UN has not learned from its failures in Rwanda (Independent)

Operatives allowed themselves to be bullied by a murderous government, says Isabel Hilton.

6. Policy ploys risk UK economic credibility (Financial Times)

The Chancellor should remember it was exactly the policy of hiding known liabilities that got Greece into its current mess, says Chris Giles.

7. Let’s cut crime, not cops: why you need to vote in today's police commissioner elections (Daily Mirror)

New commissioners can resist Conservative cuts and privatisation, writes John Prescott.

8. Stop going on about gay weddings, Mr Osborne, and honour your vows on tax help for married couples (Daily Mail)

It’s the economy, not gay marriage, that will determine the Tories’ electoral fate, says Stephen Glover.

9. Austerity is here to stay, and we'd better get used to it (Guardian)

We think we know all about the rise of Asia and the decline of the west, writes Martin Kettle. But we've barely begun to grasp what it really means.

10. Childcare: I never thought I’d say it, but Nick Clegg is right (Daily Telegraph)

There can be no further progress in equality between the sexes until men and women genuinely regard raising a child as a shared task, writes Allison Pearson.

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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