Morning Call: pick of the papers

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

1. The coalition gives Clegg a veto on arming Syria (Independent)

The greatest vindication of the Lib Dem leader's decision to take his party into government may still be to come, says Mary Dejevsky.

2. Borrowing for homes and roads would be popular (Times)

George Osborne is in no position to give lectures on borrowing, writes Mark Ferguson.

3. What's holding Britain down isn't benefits. It's low pay (Guardian)

Our brand of capitalism has become cannibalistic, writes Zoe Williams. The minimum wage isn't enough, and has become a profound drag on our economy.

4. Ashcroft and the Tories should part company (Daily Telegraph)

The Conservative peer's vicious and damaging public criticisms of the PM have gone too far, says Peter Oborne.

5. Stephen Hester's departure is a huge gamble, and one I fear will backfire (Daily Mail)

Changing the captain at this stage could be a huge error and, in the end, actually slow repair and recovery, writes Alex Brummer.

6. Ahmadinejad: we’ll miss him when he’s gone (Daily Telegraph)

Iran’s president was the bogeyman the west loved to hate, writes Richard Spencer. But his successor will be much tougher to deal with.

7. Big data has to show it’s not Big Brother (Financial Times)

We do not know yet what this new technology of data analysis and artificial intelligence means, writes John Gapper.

8. Europe must condemn Erdoğan, but without hubris or illusions (Guardian)

Europe should support those who stand up for our shared values, but don't expect miracles from Turkish democracy, writes Timothy Garton Ash.

9. Do you mind being snooped on? Take a test (Times)

Whatever your view, we all need to trust those who act in our names and the laws governing their activities, says David Aaronovitch.

10. NSA surveillance: who watches the watchers? (Guardian)

It's not the widening of state intrusion that's wrong, but the weakening of the safeguards that should be there to protect us, says Paddy Ashdown.

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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