The Goverload

I’ve had a political fever dream – all too often in the last few years, my surreal imaginings have ended up having some element of truth, so, this time, I thought, why not share it with the group?

Over on X, I was in conversation about Rishi Sunak’s prospects, following his assertion that a May 2^nd election is no longer on the cards.  If the May local elections go badly, and current restiveness amongst the Tories boils over, could there be yet another party leader? In that event, who, I mused, would possibly want the pre-election gig?  Anyone wishing for a longer-term run as Leader of the Opposition, and then as a possible future PM, would surely run a mile. And the pool of those not in that boat, but with any leadership ambitions, is, I think, currently almost uniquely shallow. So, between those with future ambitions, and those eminently unsuited to the role of Rishi replacement, who could possibly emerge as a pre-election successor to Sunak?  (Incidentally, I happened to mis-type Sunak as Sunk in my X discussion – which for political, Freudian slips, pretty much says it all….)

Now, I know what you’re thinking – this is a last-throw-of-the-dice government, and all signs are that the long-reigning Conservatives are cruising for a loss, in the face of a massive Labour poll lead.  We’ve had four Prime Ministers since 2016, so who could be so loopy as to suggest another one before the next-Election drubbing? You maybe don’t need a fever dream to think that the answer might be the Conservative party. But you have to pray they would keep the contest to the parliamentary party, and not inflict another full-on party leadership race on us….

And this raises the question, who among the current band could realistically mount a parliamentary-party-only challenge to Sunak, in the event that everyone gets thoroughly fed up and/or there’s obliteration in May’s local elections?  I present a plausible (sorry) answer: Michael Gove.  A man who always been there, a man who the Guardian’s sketch writer, Jon Crace, once described as ‘a man who has almost become a dictionary definition of someone who cannot be trusted’, the man who stood up yesterday to unveil what is virtually the only policy ‘idea’ (no matter how flimsy and poor) that the government has had recently. Gove’s illustrious career is on a downward trajectory.  He is a doyenne of over a decade of Tory rule in which he is thoroughly embedded.  He has occupied several notable Cabinet positions – and some that you might struggle to name in a pub quiz.  This is the man whose political epitaph currently reads ‘close, but no cigar’.  If you were him, mightn’t you think that a quick spin at the captain’s wheel was worth a go after all those years as bosun?

I’m not suggesting that any of this dreamtime speculation is in the interests of the country or even perhaps of the Conservative party, but then again, in the last few years that’s hardly unusual.  Possible political futures are ever harder to pin down   Welcome, my friends – who know of my fondness for a political re-wording of a song – to the Goverload….

The Goverload (with apologies to Talking Heads)

 A terrible signal

Polls too weak to even recognise

A gentle collapsing

The removal of insiders

I’m touched by your pleas

I value these moments

I have history longer than many realise

In voters’ eyes

A frequent returning

And leaving unnoticed

A condition of no mercy

A change in the political weather

I have views to remember

The center is missing

Who questions how the future lies

In the Govester’s eyes?

The gentle collapsing

Of every surface

We travel on the quiet road

…. the Goverload

Deep in your hearts you know it makes a kind of sense….

A national Budget for local people?

Living in reach of a range of small to medium-sized county towns, I’ve grown used to the recent picture of more restricted hours of operation in restaurants and cafes, and the often shorter menus on offer inside.  The pandemic, the war in Ukraine and the cost of living crisis, have all left their mark on hospitality.

Recent trips to major cities have set off more alarm bells though.  A few months ago, I made a trip to Edinburgh which illuminated how much the nighttime economy has been affected. I’ve visited the city regularly for decades – as a student, to visit family, and now in pleasing circularity to call by my daughter, who is studying there herself.  The first duty of parents of students, I tend to think, is to treat them to some good food and drink, and so we met in a favourite city centre pub – so far, so good – and wended our way back to her neighbourhood in that supremely walkable city.  Where my daughter lives, is a popular suburb of students and young families – where I lived myself long ago – with high streets of cafes, restaurants and shops.  It was between 8.30 and 9 when we started looking for food. The first chippy we passed was shut for holidays, fair enough, the next was closing up as we got there.  In my day, it did major trade as the bars shut, and would not likely have forgone the rush by closing early, no matter the night of the week.  No problem, we thought, making our way to a favourite pizzeria – but it too had just stopped serving.  Another chip shop was newly closed on Mondays and Tuesdays – a pattern frequent among a range of establishments we passed, with blinds down and chairs up.  It was getting on for 10 o’clock by the time we returned to her flat with an Indian take-away – from an empty restaurant where they’d already stopped table service.  Although the food was tasty and we’d had fun retracing footsteps through the neighbourhood, I found the whole experience salutary. 

Something similar happened in London late last year. On what had previously been a buoyant and relatively affluent shopping street, I noticed the odd empty shopfront, and there was one large store where the staff were all in overcoats – the heating clearly wasn’t fully on.  Only on the very major shopping streets with cookie-cutter big name brands did there seem to be major footfall – and much of this was made up of tourists.  Since Christmas, the papers have been full of news of closures in the capital – of long-running restaurants, bars and nightclubs.  I used to find it hard to believe that London shuts early these days – but the West End has transformed, and in the shadow of bland glass building fronts, the choice of later-opening venues has constricted.

There are, of course, arguments against catastrophisation of these trends – in my local towns some new places are doing well as changing commuting patterns have enlivened daily culture.  And if you think of the workforce – as Madrid’s politicians have done, in the face of pushback, noting the damaging effects of regular nightshifts – then there’s a place for respite from an overwhelming 24/7 culture.  However, at a time in the UK when the politics of place has risen up the agenda, it seems we all lose something of local character when there’s nowhere to go to eat or drink.  And the hospitality sector supplies a massive number of jobs, which it seems pretty advisable not to lose in a time of widespread economic insecurity.

So, what could Jeremy Hunt do to help, when he stands up at the despatch box tomorrow? Representatives of the hospitality sector have come together to sign an open letter urging action to prevent ‘irreversible damage’ to their industry.  They stress the impact of sky-high operating costs – energy and rates, and staffing – and propose three measures for the Chancellor to adopt, to stem the tide of businesses going to the wall: a sector-wide reduction in VAT, a temporary reduction in employers’ NI rates, and a cap on business rate increases.  Together, these measures could keep more businesses on a sustainable footing.

Without providing some additional support, I fear high streets will be even more hollowed out, as so much of the fabric of life has become.  Sector leaders point to survey evidence indicating that nearly two-thirds of the public feel that hospitality has a vital role in their community, and 74% think that the government should be doing more to support it.  Mr Hunt could find voters calling time on his administration, if he doesn’t spare a thought for your local.