Labour's Loss



No wonder so many people inside and outside the Labour Party would prefer to see Alan Johnson at the helm instead of Ed Miliband.

Because he comes across as a relatively normal human being who has learned a lot from the inevitable ups and downs of life, as opposed to being a professional, 'wannabe' politician. 

But it seems that Johnson, who is clearly very comfortable in his own skin, is ruling out a return to front line politics for the moment at least which is the Labour Party's loss, if you ask me.  

Alan Johnson: Return to sender — the postie doesn’t want No 10

Restless Labour MPs want the former home secretary to replace Ed Miliband but he is quick to stamp on the idea



By Rosie Kinchen - The Sunday Times
Alan Johnson (Francesco Guidicini)

Alan Johnson is the postman who would be prime minister; the salvation of the Labour party — or so last week’s headlines proclaimed. Except that when I arrive half an hour early for my interview, I find him in the lobby of his office, leafing through the pages of the Daily Mail, looking hunted. “I’m just making sure they haven’t printed any more rubbish about me,” he says with a wan smile.

Excessive popularity is not a common problem for politicians in 21st-century Britain, but it is Johnson’s. According to reports last week, Labour backbenchers are agitated about the party’s prospects at the general election and have their eye on him as an alternative party leader. He is, they say, a safe pair of hands, with five cabinet positions under his belt, and can connect with the grass-roots of the party. He is also — hallelujah — really quite normal and unlikely to be wrong-footed by a bacon sandwich.

I had planned to work my way round to the subject — a common trick in interviews is to leave the nasty question to the end (if they storm out, it is less of a problem if your notepad is full) — but Johnson, looking modish in his sharp suit and rainbow-striped shirt, drops so many hints that he is not planning a coup that when I finally ask him outright we both burst out laughing.

Does he want the leadership? “No. First of all, the question doesn’t arise. Anybody who suggested to me — and no one has, incidentally — that there should be a change of leadership, I would say, ‘Get a grip.’ ” He “hated” his stint in the shadow cabinet (he was shadow home secretary and chancellor) and feels he should have “gone to the back benches” sooner, “because if you’re not enjoying it and your heart’s not in it then it shows that you’re not going to do it properly”.

Being prime minister is a “god-awful job” and he has made it clear to Ed Miliband “exactly how I feel about it”. So that’s that, then. But, gosh, it’s a shame. I have never met a politician I liked more. Sitting in his expansive office, the MP for Kingston upon Hull West and Hessle reminds me of a less camp Bill Nighy; laughing, telling stories about the rock band he hoped would make him a star, his acne-inspired lyric: “How can any girl want to be with ya, when every kiss she gets just tastes of Nivea?” And that when he was a postman he once accidentally delivered porn to a nunnery.

Johnson is that rarest of things in Westminster: a real human being. It came across in his dignified resignation as shadow chancellor after it emerged that his second wife had had an affair with his police protection officer. And it shows in the memoirs he has written. The first, which came out last year, won awards and topped bestseller lists; the second has just been published. Johnson’s life story is an extraordinary tale of success over circumstance.

He grew up in west London, in a condemned house in Southam Street, North Kensington, where there was “no mains electricity, no running water. There were usually about four families sharing one outside khazi; just one tap for cold water,” he says. His father, Steve, abandoned the family when Alan was eight. His adored mother, Lily, worked herself into an early grave when he was 13, leaving his elder sister, Linda, to fight off social services and assume responsibility for him at 16.

He wrote the books as “catharsis” and as a tribute to his mother — the family were never able to afford a memorial. Despite the Dickensian grimness of his childhood, he loved to read: “Arnold Bennett; the Hornblower stories of CS Forester.” He wrote short stories, poems and song lyrics and idolised Paul McCartney. But by the time he was 20 he was married, with three children (he adopted his wife’s first child) and a job at the Post Office.

His political career, which came about through his role in the Union of Communication Workers, was “accidental”, he says. “There was no epiphany politically; you don’t wake up one morning and say, ‘I’m going to join the Labour party’ or ‘I’m a Conservative’. Not from my background, anyway.”

Instead he fine-tuned his views in pubs, on his postal rounds, talking to the Tory farmer’s wife, the union firebrands. He reacted against ideologues: “Extremism, intolerance, absolutely appals me. I hate it, and when I saw it in the Labour party of the late 1970s and early 1980s, with the mad period we went through, it made me determined: never again.”

He says: “People who come from those poor backgrounds very rarely end up on the extremes. It’s the people who come from more prosperous backgrounds who do.”

That he never set foot in a university lecture theatre makes him irresistible to a Labour party trying to reconnect with its roots. More than that, in a climate where the electorate wants authenticity, Johnson is a politician you really might want to go to the pub with.

The problem is, the qualities that make him an ideal candidate are also the ones that stop him wanting the job. Having a life beyond the Westminster village, for one. He and his wife were divorced earlier this year, and he is said to be in a relationship with Carolyn Burgess, a businesswoman. He is playing the guitar again, “having not touched one in the whole 10 years I was in cabinet”.

Johnson is the only politician in the world who can talk about pop music and not make me want to leap from an open window. What are his current favourites? “Everything Everything are great; Bastille, I think, are really good; I could listen to Laura Marling all day.” He is busy promoting his books — including speaking at The Times and Sunday Times Cheltenham Literature Festival this weekend.

Perversely, the memoirs are another reason he will not return to frontline politics. When he was made a cabinet minister, “almost 10 years ago to the day”, a special adviser suggested that they “make something” of his roots. Johnson’s response was that “my sister and I didn’t go through all that to get a back story. It would’ve been, I think, incredibly insensitive to use your background as some sort of political tool and I really didn’t want any sort of accusation that I was playing on it.”

It is this sense of decency that I think will ultimately stop him sticking the knife in; somehow disloyalty just is not his style.

I ask about Miliband’s catastrophic conference speech, which has left the party slipping in the polls. Johnson grudgingly admits that it is “not the best speech he’s ever given” but that “people have got to judge him, not one speech — which, in terms of its content, I thought was OK.”

What about the mansion tax? He looks at me beseechingly. “Er, can I leave that one out?” But then he rails against the rate of borrowing by the coalition government. The tax, he says, “is at least a part of the solution”.

I would love to believe Johnson can be persuaded back, but of all the metaphorical carrots I dangle in front of him, only one gets a positive response. Would you come back to frontline politics if Labour won?

“I keep teasing people with this,” he says, eyes twinkling. “Having disgracefully decided to opt out of the heavy lifting of opposition, if the call suddenly came, I would say, ‘That would be interesting.’ And my colleagues would be seething about that on the front bench! I’m not ruling out anything.”

I’m not sure I believe him: he seems so much more animated about other things. Was he ever passionate about politics? “I love the things you do as an MP. But is politics a passion? When I’m on holiday do I look at every newspaper? Do I read all the political biographies that come out? No, I don’t read any of them.” Which, of course, just adds to the appeal.



Finger-Jabbers (13 February 2013)




I enjoyed this entry in the Atticus column which appeared in last week's Sunday Times - because a good insult at your opponent's expense is a great weapon in political debate.

Especially if there is a real kernel of truth in what is being - as well as a barbed sense of humour. 

And on this occasion I think Alan Johnson is spot on in his assessment of the Unite leader - Len McCluskey - as I've said so myself on the blog site.  

"Alan hits out at the union finger-jabbers"

"Guess who coined this magnificently colourful and venomous description of the typical British trade union leader: 

"Fat, white, finger-jabbing blokes on rostrums, shouting and screaming."

It's worthy of Lord Tebbit or Boris Johnson. So you might be surprised to learn it is the view of the former Labour cabinet minister Alan Johnson, who once led the Communication Workers Union.

Johnson reserves particular scorn for Len McCluskey, the leader of Unite, who last year called for Blairites to be purged from the party. Speaking to Progress, a Labour magazine, the former post-man complains: "Some of our colleagues, Len might be among them, think that victory is a bourgeois concept. That the only goal for true socialists is glorious f****** defeat at every election."

This is not entirely fair comment. The unions go out of their way to win the occasional important election . Had the trade unions not intervened, the Blairite David Miliband would now be leader of the Labour party." 

Worzel Gummidge (6 January 2012)
Worzel Gummidge

Len McCluskey
I heard Unite's general secretary - Len McCluskey- on the TV last night talking about the pensions dispute.

I have to say Len comes across as just about the least impressive union leader I've ever heard - and I've met a few in my time.

Len bears an uncanny resemblance - in my opinion - to a famous character from children's TV - Worzel Gummidge - but the unfortunate thing is that he makes about as much sense as good ole Worzel too.

After his ritual condemnation of the government - Len seemed to suggest that the forthcoming Olympic Games in London - will be a target for the unions in their fight to defend final salary pension schemes - which of course only benefit the better off.

But I can't believe that's true - because trade unions sensible ones at least) never call strikes over the summer - because that's when most of their members are on holiday - either that or they're looking forward to or just got back from holiday.

The last thing they need or want is the prospect of even more hassle - and losing another day's pay - which union officials don't lose of course because they're working while their members are on strike.

So we'll wait and see what happens.

Unite is small beer - a small trade union in terms of the pensions dispute - maybe it's just a bit of sabre-rattling to help promote Len's image as the new general secretary.

Yet when I see him on the box I'm still reminded of my childhood - and my old friend Worzel Gummidge - except with shorter hair and without the hat.

Mandates R Us (1 November 2011)

Later this week we will hear the result of various trade union strike ballots - over public sector pension reform.

So before we all work ourselves up into a 'lather' - along the lines of: 'Mirror, mirror on the wall who has the biggest mandate of them all?' - I thought I'd publish this previous post on the 2010 election of Unite's general secretary.

Len McCluskey won the race with 101,000 votes - or 6.7% of Unite's 1.5 million members.

Make of that what you will.

Unite Election (22 November 2010)

Len McCluskey has been elected as the new leader of Unite - the UK's biggest trade union.

McCluskey received 101,000 votes - or 6.7% of Unite's 1.5 million members.

The other candidates were:

Jerry Hicks who came second with 52,000 votes (3.5%)

Les Bayliss who came third with 46,000 votes (3.0%)

Gail Cartmail, the only woman, with 39,000 votes (2.6%)

238,000 members took part in the ballot - which represents 15.8% of the 1.5 million members claimed by Unite.

Len McCluskey has been a member of the Labour Party for the past 39 years. 

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