Pound Shop Politics

Dan Hodges writing in The Telegraph is none too impressed at Ed Miliband's interview on 'Trews' TV with Russell Brand.

Now I know what a 'snidey-c----' is, but I'm not at all sure about this 'clickey-wristed' business although maybe that's a 'yoof' thing which I'm better steering clear of in case I make a fool of myself.  

Meet Ed Miliband: Labour's leader and pound shop Russell Brand

The Labour Party wanted to build an army of radical political activists. Unfortunately, someone beat them to it


Can you tell apart Ed Miliband's Labour manifesto from the Communist Party's one? Photo: Steffan Rousseau/PA wire



By Dan Hodges - The Telegraph

He went to him.

When I first saw the story of Labour’s leader emerging from Russell Brand’s £2m Shoreditch loft apartment, my initial reaction was that it was a joke. Genuinely. I had to check the date to ensure I hadn’t stumbled across an article from April 1.

Then, when I realised it wasn’t a joke, my next reaction was “this is politically insane”. It was only a couple of months ago Brand was calling Miliband’s own shadow chancellor Ed Balls a “clicky-wristed snidey c–––” . I'm not entirely sure what a “clicky-wristed snidey c–––" is, but I’m pretty confident it’s not a term of endearment.

This same apartment where our putative prime minister has reportedly filmed his interview for Brand’s “The Trews” online news show is where Brand recently filmed his calls for a boycott of Israel. And claimed the Royal Family is managing a paedophile cover-up. And slated politicians like Ed Miliband as being “frauds and liars”. On reflection, I’d rather not think about some of the things that have gone on in that apartment.

But then I realised the real significance of Miliband’s nocturnal dash to east London. It’s that it was just that. It was Ed doing the dashing. He went to Russell Brand.

Think back. To a time long before bacon sandwiches. Before all the “hell yes I’m tough enough”, immigration mugs, weaponising the NHS, “35 per cent strategy” and all those other mundane if slightly grubby attempts to get the British people to warm to Labour. Think back to 28 September 2010, when Ed Miliband rose in front of his party and announced: “Conference, I stand here today ready to lead: a new generation now leading Labour. Be in no doubt. The new generation of Labour is different. Different attitudes, different ideas, different ways of doing politics”.

Generation Ed. Young. Dynamic. Not new. Heaven forbid, anything but new. But fresh. Radical.

And Generation Ed had a Project. Their very own Project. Not just to win power but to recast power. To take the forces of change they could feel swirling chaotically about them and tame them. Actually, not tame them but harness them. Channel them.

So Ed Mliband edged toward these progressive furies. When rioting students smashed up a police van on Whitehall he’d wanted to go and talk to them, and listen to them, he told John Humphrys. When the Occupy Movement decamped to St. Paul’s Cathedral he wanted to go and talk to them as well, he told his aides. A visit was planned, then cancelled at the eleventh hour. Instead he wrote a piece for the Observer telling the country we should all take the time to listen to what these young radicals had to say.

Then a fresh plan was hatched to ensure the voice of a new generation was heard. As the House of Commons assembled for the weekly knockabout of prime minister’s questions, a press release would be issued announcing Miliband wouldn’t be appearing. Instead, at that very moment he would be commencing a march from he north of England to London to highlight the scourge of youth unemployment. That proposal, like the others, was quietly shelved.

And so a pattern developed. Ed Miliband began to develop a political strategy based around constructing an army of youthful insurgents. Young voters. First-time voters. Non voters. Labour’s very own Army Of The Night.

But each time he stepped forward to lead it he found his path blocked. Because others had been building their own armies.

In Scotland Alex Salmond and Nicola Sturgeon were demonstrating what a real political insurgency looks like. In England Nigel Farage was showing what could be achieved with a not-so-subtle mix of charisma, faux-authenticity and working-class populism. And on a Shoreditch roof terrace Russell Brand was capturing the hearts of Miliband’s very own “jilted generation”.

Ed Miliband’s grand plan was to place himself at the head of a popular revolution. But all the popular revolutions are taken. So now, as the election reaches its climax, instead of leading a revolution he is attempting to AstroTurf one.

That’s why saw last week’s ludicrous attempts to convince people a wave of “Milifandom” was sweeping the nation. Teenage girls in their thousands were – we were told – spontaneously adopting Labour’s leader as their new pin up. “Pwhoar! That Ed Miliband! Have you seen the size of his deficit reduction package?!?”

And it’s why Miliband has been forced to travel east, in the dead of night, to kiss the skull ring of the Godhead of British youth culture. It’s not yet clear whether he was seeking a direct endorsement, or merely hoping for an introduction to his army of followers. But what’s clear is it’s no longer Generation Ed; it’s Generation Brand.

The book Ed Miliband should have written after winning the Labour leadership

His interview with Ed Miliband is due to be released this afternoon. Which means tonight news bulletins will be framed in the following way. David Cameron will be there explaining why today’s GDP figures show Britain’s recovery is moving forward, but remains perilously fragile. “Now is not the time for risks and uncertainty”, he will say. And then they will see Ed Miliband sitting opposite “Flash Harry” from the St. Trinians films, asking him to hand him the keys to Downing Street.

Five years ago the Labour Party hoped they had elected a new prime minister. Today it looks perilously like they may have elected a pound shop Russell Brand.