Monday You have to move fast to catch up with the Tory party these days. Not long ago there were six factions locked in a death spiral. The “Five Families” of the Tory right – the European Research Group, the Northern Research Group, the laughably named Common Sense Group, the New Conservatives and the Conservative Growth Group – and the One Nation moderates who are too feeble to do anything. As of last week, we could add one more: the mysterious Conservative Britain Alliance that funded the YouGov poll in the Daily Telegraph which showed the Tories were heading for electoral wipeout and from which Lord Frost – the Tory peer who specialises in getting everything wrong – concluded that every foreigner should be deported to Rwanda. After this, the Tories’ self-styled election guru, Isaac Levido, concluded the Tories needed to unite a little. He’s obviously making good money from the Conservatives but he’s going to regret the hit to his credibility, because that merely sparked yet another splinter group. The new Popular Conservatism movement led by Liz Truss, Jacob Rees-Mogg and Simon Clarke announced it would be having its launch event in early February. Now, you might think it was pushing it to call anything with which Truss is associated “popular” – her last outing didn’t end so well – but she’s sure as hell popular with me. She is a sketch writer’s dream. Her leadership launch event in 2022 was unbeatable. First there was an embarrassed pause as she couldn’t find her way into a room packed with MPs and media who had had no trouble locating the door. Then, after a brief hustings speech, she made her way out through the audience and tried to exit via the window. We were on the first floor. You can’t buy that kind of comic timing. Excitingly, there’s a possibility Popular Conservatism may have splintered before it has begun with some parts being more popular than others. Clarke has gone rogue and called for Sunak to go without Liz giving him the say so. She is pretending to be loyal to Rishi by plotting against him. One day, we might remember what it was like to have a functioning government.
Tuesday I think I may be finally done with TV reality shows. For years I’ve faithfully watched The Great Pottery Throw Down, which could have been made with me in mind. A ceramics enthusiast who regularly attends exhibitions and has no intention of stopping collecting even though I’ve already run out of room for the pots that I have. But enough is enough. Partly because every series now seems to be a repeat of the last, but mainly because the format itself is so superficial. There is almost no focus on the craft, the skills that the potters are being asked to use. Instead, virtually the entire show is devoted to the “personal journeys” that the contestants are on. How the teapot they are making showcases their experience of living by the seaside for the last 10 years. How a toilet bowl is the reincarnation of their beloved pet cat who tragically died a few months ago. All of which may be true, but is of next to no interest to me. I am not interested in the personal journeys of 10 people I don’t know and will have forgotten by the end of the series. What I want to know is if they can make ceramics that speak to me. Have a quality that can transform clay into a work of art. And nothing says a failing format more than employing a presenter to constantly interrupt with crap jokes. So the sooner reality shows get back to people doing real things rather than following some bogus TV narrative the better. There. Rant over. Wednesday Being invited on to Desert Island Discs would come fairly high on my bucket list. It’s not going to happen, of course, but that doesn’t stop me thinking about what my eight music choices would be from time to time. But cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason might just be regretting having said yes. Towards the end of what had been a lovely episode this week, the presenter, Lauren Laverne, asked him about playing at the Last Night of the Proms and what he felt about Rule, Britannia!. It was asked with no edge, no agenda, and Kanneh-Mason gave a thoughtful reply. It had been an honour to play at the Albert Hall but he had left before the end – musicians aren’t obliged to stick around – as Rule, Britannia! made him feel uncomfortable. Maybe the organisers should have another think about the finale for the Last Night. It wasn’t said in an angry or confrontational way. Just a statement of opinion. In an ideal world and all that. He probably didn’t give the pre-recorded interview another thought until last Sunday. Then all hell broke out, with the rightwing papers outraged at yet another imagined assault on British traditions. These culture wars get very tiring. There’s one going on at the Michaela school in north London, run by the self-declared “Britain’s strictest headteacher” Katharine Birbalsingh. The school is being sued for not providing a prayer room for Muslim children. Birbalsingh has refused, saying that Michaela is a secular school and does not cater to any faiths. It’s a position with which I wholeheartedly agree. I think all schools would be better off for sidelining religion. Only it turns out that at Michaela, there are degrees of secularism. According to reports, God Save the King, I Vow to Thee My Country and Jerusalem, are sung in rotation at the daily assembly. All three of these anthems/hymns have the idea of a God implicit in the words. And, with the best will in the world, it’s very much a Christian god. So I’d suggest Birbalsingh has a quick rethink of the assembly routine before telling Muslim children what’s what.
Thursday The actor Tom Hollander has told a US chatshow how he once received the bonus meant for Spider-Man star Tom Holland for his role in The Avengers. Both actors shared the same agent and Hollander got an email to say he was suddenly enormously rich. For about an hour. Having thought he was doing OK and making a decent living, Hollander was now consumed with envy. Because Holland’s seven-figure payout wasn’t even a fee or a final bonus. It was just an interim payout because he was worth it. Holland probably wouldn’t even have noticed if the money had stayed in his near namesake’s account. I’ve only once been on the end of mistaken identity. Thankfully, it worked out to my advantage. I’d just started out as a freelance writer in 1989 – it was the only career I could think of which didn’t involve explaining a near 10-year gap on my CV – and I sent my first ever piece to the Independent on Sunday on spec. I thought that would be the end of it. That I had written into a void and would never hear back. Remarkably the features editor read it, said she liked it and offered me £400. I later worked out she had confused me with the novelist Jim Crace. After she realised her mistake, I got only £200 per article. I didn’t quibble. I knew my place. Friday Another long and tense night in Westminster. Not in the Commons this time. The Tories had called for a momentary breather in their long-running war with each other. But in Bellamy’s cafe/restaurant where the annual, fiercely competitive press lobby quiz took place. This year there were 20 teams of five from print, TV and radio. The Guardian team was heroically led by our political editor, Pippa Crerar, along with Peter Walker, Andy Sparrow, Aletha Adu and yours truly. Surprisingly, proceedings didn’t start with a minute’s silence while we all prayed for the king’s prostate. Practically all other business in parliament this week has kicked off with tributes to the royal family for having the same medical issues as the rest of us. Instead, we got stuck in straight away with rounds entitled Pot Luck and Lyrics. To our enormous credit, we were near the bottom of the pack after this. Frankly, I would have been embarrassed had we known the words to some dreary Britpop or Taylor Swift “so-called classic”. Had the questions focused on arias from Mozart or Verdi – or indeed the works of Leonard Cohen or Joni Mitchell – then we would have obviously stormed the round. I’ve always been deeply suspicious of anyone who can recite the words of every Oasis song. After four rounds we were lower to mid-table and Pippa gave us all a rousing pep talk. If we didn’t improve, then we were all going to be fired. Sometimes, tough love does the trick. We had a storming last round on Elections in which we played our joker and scored 20 out of 10, effortlessly answering who was elected in 2017 with over 99% of the vote. Answer: Paul Kagame of that notoriously safe country, Rwanda. We ended up in a very respectable sixth-equal. Not too boastful, but quietly effective. Last was … GB News.