It Was A Good Day

Yesterday was a good day for Ed Miliband.

He got up and made it downstairs without any comments on his bleary eyes.  He ate a hearty breakfast, delightfully free from any pork products – to paraphrase Ice Cube, he got his grub on but didn’t pig out.  After breakfast, he hopped into his soft-top ride and travelled, without incident or ‘jackers’, to the House of Commons where television cameras rolled right past him without so much as stopping to compare him to Mr Bean.

Then, after ten days spent so much on the defensive that Harriet Harman was summoned to ‘park the bus‘, Ed got his game face on and went on the attack.  And he didn’t even have to use his AK.

Labour Leader Ed Miliband Gives His Keynote Speech At the Annual Party Conference

At PMQs, Ed and several pre-prepped minions bombarded the PM with questions about how much he knew of the alleged criminal activities of HSBC’s Swiss banking division before ennobling its former Chairman, Stephen Green, in November 2010 and appointing him as Minister of State for Trade and Investment early the following year.

Judging by the swagger with which Miliband has strutted his stuff since, the attack succeeded.  The reason is because Miliband has finally understood that – despite some of his previous claims – appearances matter in politics.

Once you dig into the detail, it’s hard to see the Government has done anything wrong.  Despite this, today’s papers are filled with woolly accusations and bang-on-the-money reports that Cameron looked ill-prepared and evasive during the assault.  And, when all this dies down, that’s the image Miliband will try to project onto the public’s consciousness.

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There are, in essence, three accusations against Cameron:

1.  That he showed poor judgment in appointing Lord Green when he knew (or ought to have known) that HSBC was suspected of illegal activity during his appointee’s watch.

2.  That the Conservatives benefitted from such activity by receiving over £5m from HSBC clients who held Swiss accounts during the relevant period of 2005-2007.

3.  That the Government gave HSBC and its clients an ‘easy ride’ in the subsequent investigation, either as some sort of unspoken quid pro quo or through ineptitude.

Based on the facts presently available, none of these accusations stands up to any serious scrutiny.

Starting with the first, HMRC received the so-called ‘Swiss disc’ – containing data on around 6,000 individuals who may have evaded UK taxes – from French tax authorities around May 2010, several months before Lord Green’s appointment.  However, until the story broke last weekend, its contents were kept secret from ministers, agencies and regulators due to various confidentiality undertakings HMRC had given to the French.

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Some will say “the Government must’ve known something was going on, even if it didn’t know the precise details“.  And that’s true.  In September 2011, David Hartnett (then head of HMRC) told a Treasury select committee that: “I think the whole nation probably knows that our department has a disc from the Swiss – from the Geneva branch of a major UK bank – with 6,000 names, all ripe for investigation.

But it’s conceivable the Government didn’t know “something” was going before Lord Green took up his new role.  More importantly, as Number 10 has been at pains to point out, it’s one thing for HMRC to investigate wealthy individuals for tax evasion; quite another for regulators to suspect a large and well-respected bank of being complicit.  Cameron maintains that the correct procedures were followed and, as things stand, there’s no obvious reason to doubt this.

Moving to the second accusation, no evidence has been disclosed linking Tory donors to any illegal conduct.  For the moment, Miliband puts his glass house at risk by hurling stones across the Commons, as Labour also received sums from HSBC clients holding Swiss accounts during the relevant period: some £500,000 in cash and gifts in kind, as well as a £2m loan.

Miliband has waved this away on the basis that the sums were handed to his party before he became leader.  But cynics would argue that Labour’s record of receiving no further sums from such sources is nothing to shout about, owing more to his deep unpopularity than any higher standards of due diligence or ethics.

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As to the third and final accusation, it’s unclear how the Government could possibly have affected the pace or outcome of HMRC’s investigations.  For all its faults, HMRC is an independent body whose main functions include the recovery of unpaid taxes in accordance with legislation and its internal rulebook.

Yesterday, Lin Homer (HMRC chief executive) pointed out to a public accounts committee that HMRC had recovered around £135m from approximately 1,100 of those named on the Swiss disc.  She also reiterated that HMRC was unable to pass on information to other regulatory bodies, such as the Financial Conduct Authority, who may have been able to take tougher action sooner.

So, where does this all leave us?  

Well, the significant policy issue to emerge from this mess is that the country needs a more effective ‘joined up’ approach to recovering unpaid taxes and bringing those responsible to book.  Cameron yesterday reminded the Commons that he’d taken significant steps down this road, but Miliband wants to go further.  And the man on the street is likely to be behind him.

But few are thinking about policy today because the stench of scandal is much more alluring.

In the weeks to come, much of the mud thrown at Cameron will wash off.  But Labour will continue to point out the bits that stick and, in the process, appear to have stumbled upon an election strategy.  Whatever Douglas Alexander’s shortcomings to date, even he’s capable of pointing his laser pen at a projector screen reading: “TOO DODGY AND TOO CHUMMY WITH BUSINESS”.

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Because Labour will shout long and loud that Cameron’s judgment is questionable.  Some are already calling Lord Green’s appointment “Andy Coulson mark II“, referring to the most damaging episode of Cameron’s reign: his decision to appoint the former News of the World editor as communications director despite reports of phone hacking at the newspaper.  The move seemed inadvisable at the time; it became disastrous when Coulson was forced to resign in January 2011 and was later found guilty of conspiracy to intercept voicemails.

Labour’s task will be to remind voters of George W. Bush’s painful butchering of an old saying in Tennessee: “Fool me once, shame on … shame on you.  Fool me — you can’t get fooled again.

The second claim we’ll hear more of is that the Tories are too close to business.  Labour’s skating on thin ice with this one, given the alleged misconduct took place when Labour was in power.  Equally, the Lib Dems will struggle to reach the moral high ground given that in 2010 Vince Cable heralded Lord Green as “One of the few to emerge with credit from the recent financial crisis, and somebody who has set out a powerful philosophy for ethical business.”

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But Labour will risk the ice because they’ve got nowhere else to go on business, after the previous ten days spent burning most of their bridges with British commerce.  The latest act of arson on civil engineering took place on Tuesday, when Cameron and Clegg gave speeches at the British Chambers of Commerce annual conference.

Rather than sending out its leader to reassure the attendees that Labour meant them no harm, Ed Balls and Chucka Umunna turned up instead.  Worse still, they had no explanation for Miliband’s absence: the best Ed Balls could muster was a contemptuous “I have absolutely no idea“.   

Back on Tuesday, this also seemed a fair summary of Labour’s election strategy.  But, by hook or by crook, the HSBC story has given Labour’s chances of success a timely shot in the arm.

And we now know where Ed Miliband was.  He was preparing for a good day.

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Wrinkled, Crinkled, Wadded Dollar Bill

As well as singing about “Wrinkled, Crinkled, Wadded Dollar Bill … Somebody“, Johnny Cash once said that “success is having to worry about every damn thing in the world, except money“.  By that token, Douglas Alexander is doing very well indeed: his worries are mounting by the day and it seems for all the world that neither he, nor his party, gives a tuppence toss about the economy.

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Let’s start with those worries.  It looked like Wee Dougie had enough on his plate with producing a strategy for getting this Labour lot into power and polishing the assorted turds required to implement his plan.  But now that plate his been topped with thick, brown, smelly gravy.

According to polling research carried out and gleefully released this week by Lord Ashcroft, Labour will join confectionary in getting battered north of the border with senior figures like Dougie losing their seats.  Ashcroft’s research, which despite its origin is broadly accepted to be accurate, suggests that Dougie will lose his Paisley and Renfrewshire South constituency with a swing to the SNP of 25 per cent.

His seat’s not looked this endangered since the Park Mains High School Great Wedgie Week of 1983.

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All of this begs two questions.  First, why did Labour choose an election strategist who’s in serious danger of losing his own seat?  It’s a bit like a 40-year-old virgin taking lessons in pulling women from … well, Douglas Alexander.

The second question is: what’s Dougie going to do about it?  Will he be given compassionate leave to head north and persuade his constituents that he’s not the drabbest thing in Paisley since my grandmother’s curtains.

This seems unlikely as, for now, he’s busier than a cucumber in a women’s prison as he tries to put out the fires his shadow cabinet colleagues are lighting like a posse of pyromaniacs.

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Earlier in the week, Dougie had to sit Ed Miliband down and explain to him why normal people don’t think “working for a government department” or “lecturing on government” count as experience “outside of politics“.  Having sorted out Number One, he then had to turn his attention to Number Two – or Ed Balls as he’s sometimes known – who dropped one of his namesakes on Tuesday night.

For those who missed it, here’s what led to the latest car crash.

1.  On Sunday, Boots’ acting chief executive, Stefano Pessina, claims that a Labour government would be a catastrophe.

2.  Miliband takes this to heart and responds by shouting: “LA LA LA CAN’T HEAR YOU.  WAIT … YOU’RE FOREIGN.  SO YOU PROBABLY DON’T PAY YOUR TAXES!  THIEF!  THIEF!  YOU MUST PAY TAXES OR YOUR VIEWS DON’T COUNT AND THE PAPERS CAN’T PRINT THEM SO THERE!  LA LA LA“.

3.  Assorted business leaders pile in to support Mr Pessina and criticise Labour’s apparent anti-business agenda.

4.  Labour sends Ed Balls onto Newsnight to limit the damage.  Yes, that’s right.  The man who David Cameron named as “the most annoying person in modern politics“.  The man who Russell Brand called a “clicky-wristed, snidey c*nt“.  The man who a fantastic Daily Mash article referred to as a “bumptious little tw*t“.  The man who remains the only person in Britain that could become Chancellor and make the current incumbent look like a national treasure.  The man who could cause wall paint in an empty room to liquify, reform on his skin and suffocate him.  That man.

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Sure enough, things didn’t go too well as Mr Balls got lost trying to locate some charm to turn on with Emily Maitlis, fresh from making ‘Dapper Laughs’ squirm like the little toad that he is.

Ms Maitlis asked Mr Balls why so few prominent business figures back Labour compared to 2005.  Balls replied that there were actually loads.  He’d just had dinner with some of them.

Maitlis saw her chance and pounced with a steely gaze and persistence not seen since Tommy DeVito gave Henry Hill the runaround in Goodfellas.

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Who?

Huh?

Who?  Name them.

Well, em.  B-Bill.

Bill f*cking who?” she pressed Balls, summoning her inner Joe Pesci and waiting for the punchline to a bad knock knock joke.

It’s gone from my head, which is a bit annoying at this time of night,” Balls grinned nervously, tossing a line he’d fed to Yvette Cooper a couple of times.  But Maitlis ain’t the sort of girl to forgive early arrival.

Ok.  So you’ve got Bill somebody.  Bill?  Is that the best you can do?  Bill?  F*cking Bill?

I’m paraphrasing slightly, but you get the gist.  It later emerged that Balls was thinking of Bill Thomas, the former Executive Vice-President of EDS EMEA.  Embarassingly, he’s also been Chair of Labour’s Small Business Taskforce since 2012.

Having overseen $12billion in annual revenue at EDS, Bill is certainly wadded but judge for yourselves whether he’s wrinkled and crinkled.

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When this week’s shenanigans are stacked alongside Miliband’s recent rhetoric about corporate “predators” and his party’s plans to create a ‘mansion tax’ and reintroduce the 50p top rate of income tax, it’s easy to see why many consider Labour in its current guise to be anti-business.

However, respected commentators, such as Philip Collins of The Times, deny this is actually the case.  They also make a decent argument that Labour has a better answer than the Tories to economic recovery: a “supply-side revolution” involving higher spending on infrastructure, a greater emphasis on science and more focus on training Britain’s workforce.

Even if this is true, Miliband’s making a ham-fisted effort at informing the voters.  His mediocre message this week led one former Labour minister, Geoffrey Robinson, to urge him to win back business quickly as he’s allowed the wrong “mood music” to play.

If Robinson’s right, and it’s the mood music preventing Labour from getting into the voter’s pants, this shouldn’t be a surprise.  It’s what happens when you take lessons in pulling from Douglas Alexander.

Walk A Mile In My Shoes

On 2 September 1997, a professional footballer named Clarke Carlise made his debut for Blackpool in a 4-3 win over Wrexham.  Over the next 16 years, he went on to make 470 appearances for nine different clubs and earned three caps for the England Under 21s.

Impressing many with his intellect and eloquence, Clarke became an ambassador for football’s anti-racism Kick It Out campaign and Chairman of the Professional Footballers’ Association, alongside the inevitable media work that came his way.  Clarke retired from football in May 2013 with, one presumes, money in the bank and (in contrast with many retired sportsmen) a promising future ahead of him.

On the morning of 22 December 2014, Clarke Carlisle was hit by a lorry on the A64.

His condition was critical but he pulled through, finally returning home last week.  In an interview in today’s The Sun, Clarke revealed that the collision was no accident: he jumped in front of the lorry.  Clarke’s lucky to be alive and it’s to be hoped that, in time if not now, he agrees.

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Clarke explains that his suicide attempt “wasn’t escaping or running away” but represented, in his mind, “the perfect answer“.  Despite this, there will be some who accuse Clarke Carlisle of being a coward: that taking one’s life (or attempting to) is the ultimate act of surrender.

Those people are idiots, who’d do well to shut up and pay heed to the words of Elvis Presley: “Don’t criticise that man unless you have walked in his shoes“.

I can’t pretend to have walked in Clarke’s shoes but, over the past year, I’ve worn a similar make.  I’ve suffered from clinical depression and anxiety.  And I continue to.

At times, I felt incapable of partaking in everyday life and racked with guilt at the knowledge I’d become a burden to my loved ones.  I was also terrified that my condition was worsening and, as I fell, I couldn’t see the bottom.  When these sorts of feelings are allowed to fester, it’s no wonder that some see not continuing to live as a solution.

I haven’t defeated the Black Dog but, for now, I’m winning.  I never threw myself in front of a lorry but that isn’t because I was stronger or braver than Clarke Carlisle: it’s because I was lucky.  The Dog bit me hard, but decided not to go for the jugular.

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In many ways, I was nowhere near as brave as Clarke, who’s been open about his mental health problems for some time.  In 2013, he presented an insightful BBC documentary entitled Football’s Suicide Secret which delved into an issue that few in the macho world of professional sport want to discuss.  That year, he also published an autobiography which revealed he’d seriously contemplated suicide.

His announcement today should also be regarded as an act of courage because, for every Clarke Carlisle, there’s many more men and women who are scared to admit their perceived weaknesses.  A stigma’s still attached to mental health problems even if, from my own experience, people are becoming more understanding and compassionate than I expected.  But there are still dinosaurs about and I’m sure a fair number will make their voices heard on social media today.

These dinosaurs are only part of the problem though.  The other is the segment of our brains (conditioned by the world in which we’ve been raised) that considers mental illness to be a source of shame.

Thanks to this inner critic, I’ve found it very hard to bring up my depression even with those close to me, although I’m always relieved to talk about it when prompted to do so.  Even with strangers, I’ve found myself concealing it like some dirty little secret: avoiding smalltalk, making up disingenuous reasons why I’m off work, hiding the front cover of a book about depression on train journeys.

The self-judgment we project onto others makes the big wide world seem a frightening and lonely place.  As the dinosaurs die out, it’s hoped that the next generation will be spared this inner critic.

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To this end, The Telegraph should hang its head in shame by choosing to headline today’s coverage of Clarke’s announcement with: “Clarke Carlisle confession: I stepped out in front of lorry because I wanted to die“.  “Confession” is commonly defined as a formal statement “admitting that one is guilty of a crime“.  Clearly, in this context, it’s an appalling choice of words which only reinforces the internal and external stigma the press should play its part in helping reduce.

An apology is needed, not just to Clarke, but to all sufferers of mental illness.

There will be some who say that Clarke is undeserving of an apology or sympathy: “How could someone so fit and strong, with all that money, fame and three beautiful children be so selfish?”  Those people are also idiots.

Because that list of reasons for living doesn’t constitute a charge sheet against someone who tries to kill him or herself; it indicates the severity of the illness they’re suffering from.  Try to imagine the mental imbalance required for someone to decide that, despite all those wonderful things in their life, it’s better for them not to carry on living.

If you can find some sympathy in your heart for an ageing bachelor who kills himself quietly in despair at life’s loneliness, it’s illogical not to locate at least as much for the tormented souls of people with “everything to live for” like Clarke Carlise, Gary Speed and Robin Williams to name but a few.

There’s a well-known proverb that conscience is “the dog that can’t bite, but never stops barking“.  Next time you feel inclined to pass judgment on people like Clarke Carlisle, listen to that dog.  And just pray to God it never gets a taste for blood.

Caught Out There

Several days after publishing the post entitled Breakfast At Tiffany’s, CCTV footage has come to light showing staff at the Bowood Lamb abattoir in North Yorkshire submitting animals under their care to shocking levels of cruelty.  Acts caught on camera included the kicking, throwing and punching of lambs waiting to meet their maker as well as appearing to use one as a space hopper.

As disgusting as the images undoubtedly are, they’ve served one purpose in helping to publicise the campaign to ban the religious slaughter of animals without first stunning them.  The campaign (which admittedly is in need of a catchier title) is gaining a broader base of support as well as the favour of influential politicians such as Sir Roger Gale MP and members of the Commons Select Committee on Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

However, it’s been largely overlooked that much of the footage is irrelevant to the campaign.  There’s no obvious reason why the sight of dim-witted animals blindly following each other in carrying out acts of baabarity (sorry) is more likely to be seen in a halal abattoir than any other type of slaughterhouse.

If this were the sole concern, it could be assuaged by giving the employees the chop, considering criminal charges and following Animal Aid’s call for the compulsory installation of CCTV in abattoirs (a move that, sensibly, the Muslim Council of Britain seems to be supporting).

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The footage that is relevant to the debate is that showing someone hacking away at a lamb’s neck four or five times before its throat is effectively slit.  This risks ridiculing the suggestion that animals suffer no greater pain during non-stun slaughter.

Members of the Muslim community have responded by denying that the conduct caught on camera complies with Islamic practice.  However, it seems impossible to deny that this particular lamb would have experienced less of an ordeal had it been stunned before falling into the hands of a cack-handed killer.

Although calls to ban non-stun slaughter are getting louder, there’s still a fair amount of opposition for the campaign to overcome in the religious communities themselves and more unexpected places. For example, East Devon.  To be more precise, the constituency of Tiverton and Honiton where incumbent MP, Neil Parish, has made a strong early claim to win the much-coveted gong for “STUPIDEST ARGUMENT OF THE YEAR”.

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Looking nervously at a group of local farmers making throat-slitting gestures with their hands, Parish voiced his concern that “an outright ban on religious slaughter would not improve the welfare of animals at the point of slaughter.  Driving our halal meat industry abroad to countries without our robust animal welfare standards and our supply chain traceability might result in more animals being slaughtered without stunning.

So, Neil – just so I’ve got this right – what you’re saying is “We oughtn’t ban something them thar foreigners are doin’ anyways ‘cos it might mean the lads I share a jar with down the local get less for their livestock.  And I buy enough rounds as it is!“?

Astonishing stuff.  Whatever next?  BoJo calling for drug use to be legalised as Clapton crack-kitchens manufacture the purest highs and our capital’s junkies need the money? I wouldn’t rule it out.

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It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Last week, in a post entitled A Little Less Conversation, I was dreaming of a General Election campaign in which political parties (and, as a result, the press) spend their money publicising policies not printing posters lacking the sophistication of a Tipexed bellend on a desk lid.

In an addendum the following day, mention was made of Ed Miliband’s timely and similar sentiment, with the obvious caveat that – unless the bigger boys across the Commons follow suit – he’s left looking like a turkey voting to boycott Christmas.

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Well, it’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.

While Ed sat by the phone waiting for the Tories to return his call, Douglas Alexander (Labour’s so-called election ‘strategist’) echoed his plea in a written message to Labour Party supporters.  Wee Dougie, who couldn’t look more like a schoolyard victim if his y-fronts were tangled round his tonsils, wrote: “The Tories have now bought up hundreds of billboard poster sites on high streets across the country for the months of March and April to run their negative personalised adverts.  It already seems clear that in their campaign the Tories intend to spread falsehood, fear and smear.”  

Coughing up mouthfuls of mucky water he’d inhaled in the midst of a prolonged bogwash, he added: “The Tories will dig deep into their donors’ pockets – and plumb new depths – in their desperation to cling on in government.”

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Now, Dougie might be right, but he faces two big problems.

The first is that his message would sound more high-minded and principled if Labour: (a) hadn’t gleefully engaged in silly bugger billboarding in the very recent past; (b) had any chance of winning a slanging match between ‘Dapper Dave’ and ‘Uncomfortable-in-his-own-skin Ed’; or (c) had the financial backing to compete in a PowerPoint pissing contest even if it wanted to.

The second problem is that whenever turkeys pick up placards proclaiming “BOYCOTT!  BOYCOTT!”, the press can’t resist decorating their reports with pictures of beautifully succulent, golden turkey crowns glistening on decadent beds of roast potatoes crisped in goose fat.  Likewise, when Dougie squeals, “I won’t do what the Tories are doing”, the newspapers print what the Tories are doing.

Take a glance at the coverage of Dougie’s message on the websites of the Daily Mail, The Telegraph, The Independent and The Guardian:

  • all four included the recent Tory poster depicting a portly Miliband bro-mancing Alex Salmond and Gerry Adams outside No. 10 before, presumably, heading for an early night while his amigos went off to tear up the town;
  • none mentioned a single policy Dougie wants everyone to focus on.  Left-leaning The Guardian even added an unattributed quote claiming his party had failed to obtain usual levels of funding due to a perceived “lack of clarity about what would be in the Labour manifesto“;
  • The Telegraph tied its article to an odd photo of Miliband cast in shadow against a sandy background, perhaps suggesting to Labour it would be kinder to withdraw their man from the limelight and send him to join the Foreign Legion.

“What’s that, Dougie?  Stop hitting you?  I’m not hitting you: you’re hitting yourself.  STOP HITTING YOURSELF, DOUGIE!”

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So what is Labour’s election strategy, other than not doing the thing they know they can’t do as well as the other lot?  Well, Dougie has one, don’t you worry.

He wants to chat.  Like, a lot.  Four million times to be precise, in what’s been billed as the biggest door-stopping campaign since Danny Baker ding-donged doorbells from Dorchester to Dumfries for Daz demonstrations.  This time, the soap box will take an even more prominent role, as Miliband told party activists that, with their help, he’ll be “making our case, explaining our vision, house by house, street by street, town by town”.

Although this has the makings of a zombie horror spoof, at first glance Dougie’s plan looks foolproof: if you can’t get your policies across in the press, cut out the middle man and head straight for the voter.

But voters can be equally cloth-eared, especially when some berk in a Saville Row suit interrupts their day to discuss political theory.  To misquote Tarantino’s Jules Winnfield, they’ve got to be a charming mother****ing politician to persuade me to endorse them while my kids are fighting in the lounge, the pasta’s boiling dry on the hob and a Lego brick’s just punctured the ball of my foot.

And here’s the other thing, Dougie: just because the Shadow Cabinet colleagues you meet once a week are the only people who’ll talk to you without taking your lunch money, it doesn’t mean they’re nice or normal.  In Ed Balls’ case (and I presume, by extension, Ms Cooper’s), they’re neither.

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So it’s a gamble, Dougie.  And for your gamble to have any chance of paying off, you need to brush up and screen test the twerps around your table an awful more than you’re doing at the moment, because those people behind those doors might actually ask your MPs some questions.

Like yesterday, for example, when your esteemed leader was invited along to a gentle Q&A event for Sky News and Facebook, and was asked by a normal punter what experience he had outside of politics to show that he could represent the British people.

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Here was Ed’s chance: an open goal.  “Well, I had a pretty gruelling paper round for the Morning Star … um, Daily Star,” he could have said.  “And then I had to save up for university, so I became a brickie by day and, by night, a go-go dancer at an underground rave venue.  Having to juggle two jobs, not to mention all the glow sticks, means I understand the struggles faced by ordinary men and women up and down the country.”

Or, if he didn’t do those things, he could have been upfront about it.  Instead, Edward Samuel Miliband trusted his instincts to freestyle his way into the affections of a nation.  Despite an uncertain start (“I’ve done a number of things which I think, I hope, are relevant to this“), he knocked this one out of the park by connecting with every working man and woman who’s worked as an economic adviser to the Treasury and taught government and economics at Harvard.

His Ronny Rosenthal moment could only have been more embarrassing if Paxman been there to pull his big, rubbery horse-face of mock incredulity (©Malcolm Tucker) and repeat the question until Miliband combusted.

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So then, Dougie: time to earn your money.  If you don’t, it’s very hard to imagine that the turkeys will be the ones gobbling on Christmas Day.