It seems natural to return to a subject I’ve often posted about for my 700th post, and this article allows me to do just that:

The number of legal abortions carried out on women living in England and Wales last year was the highest ever, up more than 3,800 on 2003.

I think I’ve made my abortion views fairly clear over past posts – abortion isn’t something I particularly like, but nor is it something I feel should be criminalised, as this penalises only the most desperate.

What’s shocked me in this case, though, is not the figures themselves, but the Department of Health’s response:

The DoH said: “It is disappointing that the overall level of abortions has increased this year.”

What possible authority does the DoH think it has to pontificate about the decisions desperate people take, and to call them ‘disappointing’? The health service should be about providing unconditional help to the needy, not judging them. Their comments naturally imply that abortions are a ‘bad thing’, without recognising that they are often medically necessary, and that it is really the parents’ decision as to what is a ‘bad thing’ for them.

The DoH would never dream of saying that it’s ‘disappointing’ that suicide levels have increased, or that it’s ‘disappointing’ that poor diets mean diabetes is on the increase. Why is it any different for a parent who feels so desperate that they have to go through the appalling procedure of abortion, often meaning (in the case of later abortions within the legal period) that they have to go through a full birthing process, producing a stillborn foetus. Until the righteous right realise that getting an abortion is rarely as easy as having a tooth removed, then they can’t even begin to understand the mental anguish it confers upon the parent.

Could their be any greater example of the ‘nanny state’ than saying that the result of one of the hardest decisions a person has had to take in their whole life is ‘disappointing’? I think not: It is truly abhorrent that figures relating to the most vulnerable are being given a populist spin to appease Mail readers and secure political gains.

My union has helpfully agreed with my position on the lowering of the 24 week limit on abortions. Whilst I’m sure this will enrage the Daily Mail, it certainly cheered me up because, as far as I can see, there is no logical scientific reason for lowering the abortion limit.

The only scientific reason for doing so is because increasingly premature babies are surviving with medical assistance. But whilst that’s a reasonable scientific point, the logic isn’t present. Increasingly premature babies are going to continue to survive as medical technology improves, until eventually abortions will be impossible – or, more controversially – they will only be available to those who discover their pregnancy suitably early, thus probably disenfranchising those who are not expecting to become pregnant (and may therefore feel that they are in desperate need of an abortion). Very few of the campaigners supporting the idea of lowering the limit would support either of the above situations – and yet that is effectively what they are voting for.

The other popularly posited opinion is that now we have 3D scans, which allow us to see the foetus in greater detail than ever, we shouldn’t allow abortions at this stage of pregnancy. This is a foolish notion. Doctors have for many years seen the real foetus following abortion, and the foetus has always been at the same stage of development, even if it’s previously required a medical degree to interpret the images. Just because something can now be interpreted by the masses doesn’t change the nature of what is actually done.

Therefore, I agree with my BMA colleagues in their decision not to support the lowering of the abortion limit from 24 weeks to 20 weeks. And I will continue to hold that position, until I hear a reasoned logical and scientific reason to change it.

In what may be a first for this site, I’m actually agreeing with Tony Blair. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be making a habit of it, but if abortion is to become an election issue, then I’ll have to support him on it.

Michael Howard’s position:

I think that what we have now is tantamount to abortion on demand. I believe abortion should be available to everyone, but the law should be changed. In the past I voted for a restriction to 22 weeks, and I would be prepared to go down to 20.

I don’t see what good would be done by reducing the age at which abortion can take place, and I see no scientific evidence for doing so. Mr Howard is responding to the pro-life propaganda pictures of foetuses that look like people. Jelly babies also look a bit like people, but I have no ethical dilemmas when it comes to munching my way through a packet.

Charles Kennedy:

I don’t know what I would do now

That’s not what one would call a well argued thought out position on the issue. And if he doesn’t know his position, how am I supposed to know it? And, indeed, if I don’t know his position on key election issues, how am I supposed to vote for him? Come on Charlie, you can do better than this…

Tony Blair:

However much I might dislike the idea of abortion, you should not criminalise a woman who, in very difficult circumstances, makes that choice. Obviously there is a time beyond which you can’t have an abortion, and we have no plans to change that, although the debate will continue.

I know that this will come as a surprise, but – finally – I agree with Mr Blair on this. I’d perhaps go slightly further than him, because he’s left himself open to attack over women who aren’t in ‘very difficult circumstances’ but still obtain abortions, but he’s in a pretty solid position. For the first time in this not-quite-an-election-campaign, I can say: Well done, Mr Blair!

Three years ago, I enjoyed Naoise Dolan’s first novel, Exciting Times. Her second, The Happy Couple, is a rather different novel in scope and setting, but is no less enjoyable.

The Happy Couple begins with the engagement of Celine, a professional pianist, and Luke, whose exact occupation I can’t recall, but it was something like investment banking. The novel then follows the couple as their wedding approaches, with the central question being whether they will actually end up marrying.

The narrative perspective shifts several times through the novel between different members of their friendship group and the wedding party. Archie, the best man and Luke’s ex; Phoebe, the bridesmaid and Celine’s sister, who is uncertain about Luke; and Vivian, a wedding guest and another of Luke’s exes. This isn’t nearly as complicated in practice as I’ve made it sound.

As with her first novel, Dolan’s writing is razor sharp, and yet still warm. The characters—and especially the way they relate to one another—feel true to life, and the novel feels very current.

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel.

I noted down far too many quotations to paste in this post, but here’s a selection. The first is a lovely line from the acknowledgements, the rest are from the main body of the text:

As a child, I read hundreds of novels before it even occurred to me that people had written them, let alone that I could be one such person. I learned my craft from fellow authors, most of them long-dead. So thank you to fiction, my favourite thing, my thing that I somehow get to do.

I only ever say good morning if someone else has decided that we’re doing this. Sleeves up, let’s deem the morning good. But all mornings are good to good morning people, making it really a statement of pessimism. We give the day that greets us a participation trophy because we assume it can’t do better.

Both parents were from Dublin, but I was born in London when my mother’s plan to go off to England and get an abortion had been executed partly but not fully.

I find it irksome when book blurbs say right at the end: ‘It’s also very funny’, as if humour were an afterthought and not the central force that prevents us from killing a) each other, and b) ourselves.

Loneliness wasn’t having no one. Loneliness was the gap between what you hoped for and what you got.

‘I don’t want you to fuck off for months at a time without checking if I mind.’

‘Okay, yeah, sorry,’ Luke said.

Confirmed: truly impossible to make Luke fight.

Archie said: ‘Sorry and you’ll change, or sorry and you won’t?’

‘Sorry, I won’t, Luke said. I mean, I probably won’t. I’m not good with relationships.’

‘But that’s not a mysterious… you’re talking about your own actions like it’s a weather forecast. You’re you. You’re management. You decide if you’ll be “good with relationships” or not.’

They did not, as a rule, ‘share feelings’.

Celine’s family had never taught her how. To see the tint of your internal mood ring as warranting disclosure, and to expect a rapt audience—no, no.

Ever since those prep classes, the phrase ‘Jesus died to save our sins’ has bothered me. I mean even just the grammar. Shouldn’t it be ‘save us from our sins’? If the sins themselves were the subject of salvation, wouldn’t that mean Jesus died to save your gambling addiction, i.e. to keep you gambling? Wouldn’t that make him an enabler? Or Him, if you’re into that sort of thing.

I’m only happy when doing something that makes me forget I exist.

I didn’t find out until after I read this book that Alejandro Varela is a specialist in public health. That explains the focus of many of the short stories in this collection, and also why they intersected with many of my own interests.

Verela is based in New York, which serves as the setting for these interconnected stories. The focus is on people who are at the margins of society, either as a result of being quietly introverted or due to more structural issues. The main themes in the book are around romantic relationships (particularly among men), parenting, and everyday racism.

The ‘book is also very funny. ‘Carlitos in Charge,’ a comedic piece about the absurdity of the United Nations (and the sexual encounters between the staff) stood out to me as riotously good fun, not least because the satire had the sting of underlying truth to it.

As in any collection, some stories were more successful than others. Short stories are not my favourite medium, but I enjoyed this book, and will add Varela’s much praised first book, The Town of Babylon, to my list.

Some quotations I noted down:

That doesn’t matter, Dear. My grandmother said this in response to almost everything: marital spats, earthquakes, authoritarianism, late-stage cancer. Whether it was the tone or the pith that made her words so persuasive was unclear. But whomever heard her say them understood that she knew well the distinction between problems and pain.

The transportation app on my phone flashes a warning about the F train: it’s been rerouted and delayed. In other words, one can be late for a place they never intended to visit.

In a short period of time, I learned that the United States was immune to easily interpretable, common-sense data on everything -pollution, tuberculosis, birth control, abortion, breastfeeding, war, rape, white phosphorous, blue phosphorous, red phosphorous, lithium, PTSD, GMOs, slavery, winged migration, lions, tigers, polar bears, grizzly bears, panda bears, capital punishment, corporal punishment, spanking, poverty, drug decriminalization, incarceration, labor unions, cooperative business structures, racist mascots, climate change, Puerto Rico, Yemen, Syria, Flint, Michigan, women, children, wheelchairs, factory farms, bees, whales, sharks, daylight saving, roman numerals, centimeters, condoms, coal, cockfighting, horse betting, dog racing, doping, wealth redistribution, mass transit, the IMF, CIA, IDF, MI5, MI6, TNT, snap bracelets, Pez dispensers, Banksy. It didn’t matter what it was. If the Human Rights Council (or Cuba) advocated one way, the United States went the other.

She’s wearing a gold band, but no engagement ring. I’m relieved. Literate women who wear engagement rings destabilize all my notions of feminism. I’m grateful this tradition seems to be falling by the wayside.

As if on cue, my little wombat skulks into the room with a guilty but also aggrieved turbulence in his eyes and brow. We adopted Julio, and he looks nothing like me, not his hair, not his teeth, not his marshmallow face, but he is me, almost more so than I am.

“Did you hear that, Julio?” I shout toward my son as he and his friend take off down the hallway. “One hour. I don’t want to hear any crying or screaming. I’m setting a timer too.”

Timers. Christ.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for any tools or techniques that facilitate the trauma-free domestication of our small, wild humans, but the gulf between my childhood and my children’s is vast and vertigo inducing. My parents used to set timers with the backs of their hands. Sometimes, the timers were made of leather. But those were different times, I’ve heard people say. I assume they meant different income brackets.

A few things I’ve been thinking about this week. The twenty-fifth post of a series.

I went for a walk this week around some bits of Newcastle city centre that I don’t usually frequent. It reminded me how much Newcastle’s skyline has changed over recent years, and how change that seems gradual and unremarkable when observed daily can be enormously striking when seen only at wide intervals of time.

According to those irritating automated Microsoft Viva emails, in a typical week I spend 55 hours in meetings. I work 40 hours a week. I assume the system can’t smartly analyse a diary that is often double, triple or quadruple booked.

On an Internet forum I sometimes browse, a commenter said this week

The sort of thing you used to see on Club Reps or, dare I say it, the original Inbetweeners film, just don’t happen now because if you let yourself go in Kavos, Aiya Napa or Magaluf now, it’ll be all over the Internet within half an hour.

Despite everything I’ve read about things like China’s social credit system, or books like So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, I have never properly considered the idea that social media platforms could operate as a moderator for ‘real life’ behaviour.

I took a circular walk round York’s city walls this week. I haven’t been to York all that much over the years, and wouldn’t say it’s a city I know well, but walking the walls nevertheless gave me a wholly new perspective on it.

The Times had an article this week recommending the 100 best books for summer 2022. I didn’t read it, but lamented that I’d be so much more convinced by a smaller number. In a world of endless choice, curation is key.

It’s hard to piece together a rationale written thought about the appalling consequences of the US Supreme Court’s decision that access to abortion is not a constitutional right. Reading through the original Roe vs Wade decision this week, as well as the Supreme Court’s latest, I was struck by how plain it was that the original judgement was finely balanced.

It made me wonder how something so fundamental could be left to rest on such shaky foundations, and how the immediate response to the judgement wasn’t to work to firm up the legal footing. But then, just look at how many fundamentals of democracy in the UK are on based on shaky foundations, and how our response to a Government which openly attempts to knock them down hasn’t been to immediately work to strengthen them.

The third in an occasional series of posts listing things I’ve enjoyed on the web recently.

We Tried On a Kylie Jenner Swimsuit so You Wouldn’t Have To

I’m in the perhaps fortunate position of having really no knowledge of Kylie Jenner. I don’t know what she’s famous for, and I couldn’t pick her out of a line-up. Yet, it seems she has designed some bestselling swimwear, and Flora Gill’s review in Air Mail made me laugh out loud.

While wearing the triangle bikini top, every crevice of my breast was clearly visible; if my nipples were braille, they’d be in caps lock.

But for me the real issue came with the bikini bottom. Here I found myself having to make a decision I don’t often debate with my clothing: Would I rather show my butt crack or my entire bush?

It appears that the power of celebrity to sell knows no bounds.

A decent death

I’ve long been in favour of assisted suicide in theory, though never been entirely convinced that the necessary safeguards could be implemented in practice. I’ll admit that it’s not a topic I’ve given a great deal of thought to recently, but knowing that there have been successful schemes around the world for decades now, I’m probably willing to concede the latter point.

It’s the former point on which Stephen Sedley concentrates in his article for the LRB, plus the politics of the topic. It’s one of those articles that is fascinating from beginning to end, though I accept he’s preaching to the converted. These sentences in particular struck me:

The theological interdictions were not limited to the belief, spoken or unspoken, that all terminal suffering, whatever its degree and duration, was God’s will and not to be curtailed. Anaesthesia was for years opposed on the same ground.

I had no idea that there had been a religious objection to anaesthesia. It’s a fact that feels so loaded with potential for analogy that I’m amazed I’ve never come across it before.

In the same issue, Frederick Wilmott-Smith has a short piece on the US Supreme Court and Texas’s Senate Bill 8, severely limiting access to abortion, which contains this harrowing pair of sentences:

One child, raped by a family member, took an eight-hour journey from Galveston to Oklahoma to get an abortion. Many – principally those without the means to travel out of state – will simply be unable to obtain abortions.

Combined with much else from the last few years, it’s hard not to wonder whether the still-young experiment of the US approach to Government and democracy may be taking a dark turn.

Stop telling kids they’ll die from climate change

According to an article in Wired by Hannah Ritchie,

A recent survey asked 10,000 16- to 25-year-olds in 10 countries about their attitudes about climate change. The results were damning. More than half said “humanity was doomed”; three-quarters said the future was frightening; 55 percent said they would have less opportunities than their parents; 52 percent said family security would be threatened; and 39 percent were hesitant to have children as a result. These attitudes were consistent across countries rich and poor, big and small: from the United States and the United Kingdom to Brazil, the Philippines, India, and Nigeria.

I was quite convinced by the argument that we ought to look at the positives associated with climate change action in their own right, not only as methods of averting disaster. This is also an argument Caroline Lucas often makes, but Ritchie’s framing of the argument in terms of protecting the mental health of young people felt fresh and newly convincing to me.

This government has unleashed something far worse than “sleaze”

For Prospect, Nicholas Reed Langen has written a short but pointed article on the current Government’s attempts to avoid scrutiny.

Throughout his entire premiership, Johnson has shown contempt for anything and anyone who subjects him to independent scrutiny or who holds him to account. In anticipation of opposition from MPs, he tried to prorogue parliament in the weeks leading up to Brexit, and after the Supreme Court struck down his decision, turned his fire on the courts, trying to intimidate the judiciary into a more deferential stance—something which has arguably been achieved, given government ministers’ praise of recent decisions.

And Stuart Heritage covers the same ground in more humorous terms in Airmail (“Short of being an armorer on an Alec Baldwin set, it’s hard to see how his situation could get any worse.”)

Votes for children! Why we should lower the voting age to six

David Runciman has long been arguing for children to have the vote; this Guardian article is as good an exposition of that view as any.

There is no good reason to exclude children from the right to vote. Indeed, I believe there is a strong case for lowering the voting age to six, effectively extending the franchise to any child in full-time education. When I have made this case, as I have done in recent years in a variety of different forums, I am always struck by the reaction I get. It is incredulity. What possible reason could there be to do something so seemingly reckless and foolhardy? Most audiences recognise that our democracy is growing fractious, frustrated and frustrating. Our political divisions are wide and our institutions seem ill-equipped to handle them. But nothing surely could justify allowing children to join in. Wouldn’t it simply make everything worse?

It would not.

I always enjoy listening to Runciman make this argument. My initial reaction was one of incredulity, assuming that it was a terrible idea for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate. Runciman then does a good job of explaining why it feels uncomfortable, and demolishing those arguments.

The argument is an interesting thought exercise, and also a little more convincing each time I hear it.

Dirty Work describes the “Fitness to Practice” investigation into the work of Nancy, a registrar in obstetrics and gynaecology. The investigation is triggered by an operation which goes wrong, and Nancy’s inability to deal with the situation.
The author, Gabriel Weston, is an ENT surgeon, and so is possessed of some insight into how these things work. She also has a remarkable talent for describing aspects of medical life in ways that are both accurate and poetic.

A good doctor needs to know how to spin a yarn. That’s what they teach you at medical school, though no one ever says in in so many words. They prefer to give it a safe sort of name, the powers that be. The call it history-taking, this supposedly natural process in which a patient and doctor collaborate to weave a shape out of what’s gone wrong. They make its sound straightforward. And to the patient it probably feels that way. In reality, though, the competent clinical inquisitor is all the while asserting their own semantic frame, encouraging the patient to dwell on key symptoms, ignoring the white noise of emotion, veering away from anything that has no pathological meaning, doing what is necessary to help a diagnosis emerge. The doctor is rewriting the patient’s story while seeming only to bear witness to it.

If there’s part of that which sounds a little uncaring, perhaps a little too direct, fear not. An epiphany is coming…

I began to see that the words a patient uttered were not always what counted most; that there might be a more important meaning beyond what was being said, a contrary melody, if only I could train my ear to hear it.

This short novel has more characterisation than plot, which feels right for the story it is discussing. It also has a good deal of tension, uncertainty, and occasional confusion.

The work which most affects the protagonist, and the operation in which she makes her mistake, is the provision of surgical abortions. I think this is a shame. There is little in the content of the book that is specific to abortion-related work, and I think it would almost have been more interesting to explore the pressure on Nancy if she were the provider of any other kind of surgery. The subject of abortion – for better or worse – carries a lot of baggage. Weston doesn’t moralise, but the occasional graphic descriptions of the work Nancy carries out weigh, I think, unduly heavily on the mind of the reader. This becomes a novel about the psychological impact of abortion provision, and the myriad other pressures on Nancy are comparatively minimised.

This minimisation feels a bit unfortunate because it removes the focus from Weston’s talent for describing the universal fears and pressures weighing on all doctors, which are less frequently discussed and so possibly more interesting than the specifics of the pressures of an individual line of work:

How on earth will I manage if I am erased, removed, struck off the medical register? I will lose my entire frame of reference. And what would I have to replace it? What is a doctor, if not a doctor? That that title away and there may be very little left over.

I would have liked to have seen these ideas explored further, without the baggage of abortion. Weston’s descriptions and language speak to me.

I have seen that other reviewers have felt that the book fails to emotionally involve the reader with the protagonist, but I couldn’t disagree more strongly. I felt deeply involved with Nancy’s story, and worked through this book in no time.
However, given that I’ve praised the book for its true to life descriptions, I should also caveat by saying that this isn’t consistently true. There are strange lines here and there which ring utterly false. There is a scene in which Nancy – reputedly a registrar – described a consultant “decoding” very common terms like ERPC, D&C, and ToP for her. This is patent nonsense. The terms aren’t even explained to the reader, so there isn’t a clear explanation for why the line exists. These aberrations, while frustrating, are mercifully few.

As a whole, I very much enjoyed this novel. It wasn’t perfect, but there were parts that came remarkably close to perfect. There were some distinctly wrong notes, but they were few and far between. I found the novel made me reflect on my own life and medical practice, and made me reconsider issues I haven’t though about for some years. I found it moving, and somewhat thrilling. I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it.

Dirty Work is available now from amazon.co.uk in hardback and on Kindle. Many thanks to Bantam Press for supplying a free copy for the purpose of this review.

Photo by Lawrence OP, modified under licence As I mentioned in the diary, The Vatican has pronounced a number of new mortal sins… The twist being that it would seem that The Vatican itself is guilty of most of them. I’m guessing that it wasn’t some kind of point about everyone being a sinner they were trying to make.

The seven ‘new sins’ are kicked off with ‘environmental pollution’. That might sound like a reasonable cause – The Vatican is at least agreeing with the science for once. Except the Vatican has huge investments in the chemical industry, steel, construction, and real estate. Not the most environmentally friendly of industries, but then perhaps its not a sin if you’re merely funding somebody else’s environmental pollution.

The Holy See has also decided that ‘accumulating excessive wealth’ is evil… despite having a vast fortune estimated at over $15bn in the bank. Is that not a little excessive? Certainly wouldn’t fit through the eye of a needle…

Also on the financial front, they’re objecting to ‘inflicting poverty’ and ‘morally debatable experiments’ – both items which are contravened by their extreme stance on the use of condoms in countries riddled with HIV. Both your parents dying from a preventable disease is undeniably inflicting poverty, and preaching that condoms don’t work can be described as little other than a cruel and unusual experiment in failing to halt the spread of the disease.

It could also be argued that this is in ‘violation of fundamental human rights’ – another terrible sin – but I honestly can’t understand how the Vatican defines ‘fundamental human rights’: The policies it advocates on homosexuality, abortion, and euthanasia – not to mention the systemic covering up of child abuse – are certainly not congruent with my understanding of human rights.

The fact that people continue to have faith in Catholicism when the Vatican appears to be so corrupt and hypocritical astounds me – it’s surely either an expression of true, deeper faith, or simple brainwashing and conditioning. I know which theory I prefer.

A fascinating business, this reshuffle lark.  Here are my initial thoughts on each of the roles, and the people now filling them.

Chancellor of the Exchequer: Alistair Darling
No surprises here, then.  He’s always struck me as a sort of inoffensive puppy, who does whatever he’s told, and does it very efficiently.  There’s no chance of this ending in a Blair/Brown relationship, I don’t think Darling has the driving ambition or the nous for that.  His opinion flips with whatever his bosses tell him: From devolution, to independence for the Bank of England, he just thinks what he’s told to think.  And I’m slightly scared of his eyebrows.

Lord Chancellor and Secretary of State for Justice: Jack Straw
I like Jack Straw.  He’s a man of some honour, and he says what he really thinks.  I don’t always agree with what he thinks, but I reckon he’s got his head screwed on, and will work well Justice.  Good for him.

Parliamentary Secretary to the Treasury and Chief Whip: Geoff Hoon
Not a bad move at all.  Geoff Hoon’s slightly ridiculous and bumbling manner makes him bad at some jobs: Secretary of State for Defence being one of them, where I felt he was pretty terrible.  But I reckon he’s got a good political sense about him, and will probably do well as Chief Whip.

Leader of the House of Commons, Minister for Women, and Labour Party Chair: Harriet Harman
Not the person I would’ve put in the position of Leader of the House of Commons if I was hoping to push ahead with the excellent work on Parliamentary reform given a real boost in the last few months by Jack Straw.  Note also, in this age of apparent equality, that there’s still no equivalent Minister for Men.  As for Harriet Harman herself, I really have no opinion.

Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport: James Purnell
The Guardian calls him ‘good-looking’.  I don’t see it.  He looks more like one of those slightly suspicious characters in 24 who turns out to be head of the terrorists plotting to detonate a nuclear weapon on US soil.  Again.  Just like they were plotting last season.  But more pertinently, it seems utterly bizarre that the person in charge of culture and sport apparently isn’t in charge of the biggest thing in British culture and sport for decades: The Olympics.  I’m not sure whether that’s an example astounding idiocy or great brilliance.  On the one hand, it could lead to a giant scrap because of overlapping portfolios, but on the other, it could mean that culture outside of the Olympics can be concentrated on and cultivated by one individual, which might help to stop the diversion of all funding and support away from valid projects to be pumped into the Olympics.

Secretary of State for Defence, and Secretary of State for Scotland: Des Browne
No question of who he looks like: His Westminster nickname is Swiss Toni.  He’s been a reasonably good defence secretary up to now, apart from the little upset over the Iranian Hostages being allowed to sell their stories.  A good idea to keep him in his post.

Secretary of State for International Development: Douglas Alexander
A pretty inoffensive Scot, in a pretty inoffensive post.  Meh.

Minister for the Cabinet Office and Treasury of the Duchy of Lancaster: Ed Miliband
It’s the Miliblogger’s brother, who looks remarkably like Ernie.  And you can kind of convince yourself that Miliblogger himself looks a bit like Bert, if you screw your eyes up tight.  He seems a less ridiculous politician than his brother, and seems to understand the value of keeping quiet sometimes.

Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families: Ed Balls
A newly created job, covering one half of the old Department for Education and Skills, though quite why Brown has thrown ‘families’ into the brief is beyond me.  Ed Balls seems to have quite a shrewd political mind, but I’m not sure he’ll be all that great in this post.  But certainly an interesting one to watch.

Secretary of State for Innovation, Universities and Skills: John Denham
A minister for ‘innovation’? What a bizarre title.  But this is the other half of the DfES.  Not quite sure what to think of Mr Denham, to be honest.

Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs: Hilary Benn
It’s always struck me as odd that there’s a minister for ‘rural affairs’, as if it’s some niche topic, when, in reality, more people in our country live in ‘rural’ areas than cities.  But perhaps that’s not clear to Londoners.  Hilary Benn seems a very committed politician, who’s honest and will say what he thinks.  Despite his relatively low profile, I rather like Mr Benn – and he’s certainly better in this job than the Miliblogger.

Secretary of State for Health: Alan Johnson
Ding dong, the witch is dead! Or, at least, Mad Pat’s gone. For all her wrongs, though, I wouldn’t wish her to be leaving because of her dying mother, and I do feel sympathy for her. Brown has declared the NHS to be his priority (as Cameron did some months ago), so it will be interesting to see where this goes. Mr Johnson could be a great success, or a terrible failure. He’s a bit of a slime-ball, and was a big advocate of tuition fees. But a little bit of slime might just help him to appear amenable to the staff of the NHS, and if he’s slimy in the right way, he could make this work. But if he argues with Brown, as seems likely, and messes stuff up, he could be the sleazeball that loses Brown the next election. It’s a big risk, but it might just pay off.

Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs: David Miliband
Oh, dear god, why?  We’ve gone from the mildly bizarre caravanning foreign secretary of Margaret Beckett, to David ‘connect with the people’ Miliblogger – who only wants to connect with those who agree with him.  His much maligned (and hugely expensive) blog, combined with his wiki that had to be taken down, just make him look utterly ridiculous.  Jack Straw brought gravitas and diplomacy to this role.  Miliblogger simply ignores people he disagrees with – not exactly being diplomatic.  Why people think he’s a future Labour leader, I simply do not understand.

Secretary of State for the Home Department: Jacqui Smith
Another slightly unknown quantity.  It’s rumoured that no-one wanted this job, and it’s probably understandable.  Of late, it’s become something of a poisoned chalice.  Will she be the one to turn it round, and flourish in this pressured role?  I don’t see it happening.

Secretary for Business, Enterprise and Regulatory Reform: John Hutton
So, out go the scary eyebrows, and in comes John Hutton. I’m not a fan of his, but I’ve no concrete idea why.  Perhaps it’s the association with the snake that is Alan Milburn, perhaps it’s that he shares a name with Lord Hutton, I don’t know.  But I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him.

Leader of the House of Lords and Lord President of the Council: Lady Ashton
Lady Ashton has got a tough act to follow in Baroness Amos, but she’s got form to do it.  Once Stonewall’s politician of the year, she’s also worked strenuously against forced marriage.  She had strong beliefs, and sticks to them.  I think she’ll do well.

Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government: Hazel Blears
The perma-smile moves to communities and local government.  It’s good that Hazel has got control of local government, for that is where I feel she rather belongs – and the sooner this poor naive woman is out of the national picture, the better for her and us.

Secretary of State for Nothern Ireland: Shaun Woodward
The butlered multi-millionaire ex-Conservative (and ex-editor of Esther Rantzen’s That’s Life) seems such an affably impotent guy that he might just be perfect for this role right now.  With so much progress in Northern Ireland, he’s not someone who’s going to rock the boat too much.  A good pick.

Secretary of State for Transport: Ruth Kelly
I think Ruth Kelly might go further in government than people think.  She’s a very controversial figure, but, like Mr Blair, nothing sticks.  The number of scandals she’s been involved in, from Home Information Packs, to turning down a job and the Department of Health because she’s against abortion, and at the Department of International Development because it promotes the use of condoms, to sending her son to a private school while at the Department for Education and Skills.  She’s a remarkably intelligent woman, and will be on the scene for a long time to come.  Whether or not that’s a good thing, I’m distinctly unsure.

Chief Secretary to the Treasury: Andy Burnham
One of those posts no-one really cares all that much about.  Burnham’s best bet is to keep it that way.

Secretary of State for Work and Pensions: Peter Hain
Peter Hain used to talk a lot of sense, but appears to have been losing his marbles somewhat of late.  He’s too outspoken for his own good, and I don’t think this job will fit him particularly well.

Minister for Housing: Yvette Cooper
Ed Balls’s other half.  I’m not sure what I make of her, in all honesty.

Minister for Children and Youth Justice: Beverley Hughes
An impressive number of ‘e’s in that name. I haven’t been concentrating enough to understand how her job differs all that much from Ed Balls’s.  Let’s hope she has.

Minister for Africa, Asia and the UN: Lord Malloch Brown
A fascinating appointment from outside of Westminster.  The former UN Deputy Secretary General, it will be interesting to see what he gets up to.  Perhaps shows that Gordon is taking Africa seriously – or at least trying to appear that way.

Minister for the Olympics and London: Tessa Jowell
As already mentioned, a role which appears to overlap considerably with Purnell’s.  But her unashamed buddyness with Ken Livingstone should work well.

Attorney General: Lady Scotland
Can only hope that she does a better job than Lord Goldsmith… and it looks like she might be.  Certainly seems to be more of a high-flyer.

Deputy PM: No-one
The fact that no-one needs to take over from John Prescott rather confirms what we already knew: He hasn’t been doing anything of use for months.

So there you go… that’s pretty much what I think of the new gang, right now.  It’ll probably change in about five minutes’ time.

I’m particularly glad to see the backs of John ‘attack dog’ Reid and Mad Pat, but I’m sure this new bunch will have some equally annoying characters.  It kinda reminds me of Big Brother – except we let this bunch of misfits run the country, and there’s only an eviction every four years, and even then it’s David Dimbleby at the helm rather than Davina screaming at us.  Though there’s an idea for Channel 4 next election night…

And if reports are to be believed, the next election night might be earlier than we thought – next year, perhaps.  If that happens, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Brown win.  Interesting times ahead.