Hands up who knew Peter Mandelson was a wrong-’un? OK, form an orderly queue. Staking his premiership on the worst gamble since David Cameron’s tactical referendum, Keir Starmer will in all likelihood also lose the keys to No 10. Hatchet man Morgan McSweeney falling on his sword buys time rather than a free pass. Meanwhile it’s the end-of-the-peer show for the Prince of Darkness with the utterly disgraced Mandelson out of the Lords as well as Washington, and fighting to stay out of Belmarsh. Those who knew Mandelson best are least surprised he has self-destructed again, and hell hath no fury like a Gordon Brown scorned.
It was Brown who gave his frenemy another chance in 2008, appointing Mandelson an ermined business secretary. Around the time Brown resurrected Mandelson, he tried to persuade me to be his director of communications and chief spin doctor. An ill-disciplined hack addicted to mischief, I declined. The PM later invited me to Chequers for Sunday lunch. “It’s your fault I brought Mandelson back,” Brown quietly growled. He was joking, I think. If he wasn’t, the responsibility would be crushing.
Keeping up with the Joneses
The most powerful man in Westminster at the mo is Kevan Jones, aka Baron Beamish, chair of the Intelligence and Security Committee. In his hands are the fate of Starmer and wannabes (Wes Streeting?): the body’s vetted trusties will decide which Mandelson messages, emails and documents are published or redacted. Coalminer’s son Jones, a former North Durham MP and defence minister, was part of an influential GMB union that once dominated the Labour Party in north-east England. Jones helped ease Mandelson into Hartlepool, yet in recent years there was, I hear, no love lost between the pair. Our sacked man in Washington should add rubbishing old Labour figures to his list of regrets. Surely it would’ve proved wiser for Mandelson to respect folk on his way up: he’s now encountering them on the way down, with the boot on somebody else’s foot.
A friendly face
To Northampton for the funeral of Karen “Kaz” Hodsden, a smiling face in parliament, popular with MPs, who died suddenly, aged 49, on New Year’s Day. Kaz, who worked as service delivery coordinator for the parliamentary estate, was extremely fond of John Major. She feared the sack as a young waitress in the members’ tea room when she dropped a hot buttered crumpet on to the PM’s lap, but Major was a true gent, neither creating a fuss nor complaining. Today, some pushy newbies might post a video on social media and slap the dry-cleaning bill on expenses.
Down the local
The talk of South Tyneside is one of my hometown Labour-run council’s independent members, who has displayed a disturbing lack of civility on a community online forum. The councillor posted in CAPITAL LETTERS a sweary tirade at a woman who pointed out cops found no offence was committed by a man supposed to have filmed children in a public place. “ITS PROBABLY COZ YOUR A FUCKING PERV AS WELL U SICK C**T,” bashed the elected rep. Chatter locally is whether the charmer will join or ally with Reform in May’s elections. National politics is a walk in the park compared with the poison polluting local politics in our towns and cities.
Reform jerk
The chat is some Conservative mutineers feel unloved and regret joining HMS Farage. Churchill ratted then reratted, but this crew are smaller figures. On cue, one of my contacts watched Nige and “30p” Lee Anderson partying in a Commons bar before, in the corridor outside, bumping into Robert “Generic” Jenrick sullenly trudging alone with – wait for it – a jerk chicken takeaway.
A pig’s life
Another Reform recruit from the Tories, Brexiteer Nadine Dorries, informed yours truly she has applied for an Irish passport. Let’s think this through. Those who, like me, voted Remain, warning a rupture would impose travel and work barriers among the horrors, must pay to be fingerprinted and are limited to 90 days abroad every six months, while a champion
of Leave enjoys what we’ve lost. I’m reminded of Animal Farm’s closing chapter: Dorries enjoying life inside the house with Napoleon, while we’re stuck outside with old nag Clover.
Kevin Maguire wrote the New Statesman’s Commons Confidential column for two decades
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This article appears in the 11 Feb 2026 issue of the New Statesman, Labour in free fall
Join the debate
Subscribe here to commentAh, good old Nadine Dorries. Her appointment as Culture Secretary by Bojo proved that if he had nothing else, he certainly had a mischievous sense of humour!