In this week’s diary entry, Simon Alexander MP plays Good Journo Bad Journo with his two advisers, Vish and Em
Em-Dash has been busy again, which is always a sign that I haven’t done enough work to get the message out about what I am doing for the people who voted for me. She has set up a spreadsheet, which she has circulated around her fellow media spads, full of names of people in the media. It is unfair, she says, to include any Westminster lobby journalists; ‘allegedly, they’re drunk most of the time’, she says knowingly, although I couldn’t possibly comment given that some of my best friends are in the lobby. Their job is to parse the runes and tell their readers and listeners who is up, who is down and who isn’t moving. Yes, it’s Top of the Parliamentary Pops!
There was a time when some of the top members of the executive, ie the government, were journalists. Boris Johnson edited a magazine before becoming Mayor of London, while Michael Gove was a witty writer of comment pieces for The Times and now edits that same magazine. He also, Em-Dash tells me, has a podcast called Quite Right, which is a fab title, to credit the Govester (ladies, he’s still single, what are you waiting for?!). The audience are Conservatives, and the type of people who shed a tear when Rod Liddle died back in July. I liked Liddle, especially his football columns moaning about Millwall, but found he crossed the line too much for me to take seriously.
He was, according to Em-Dash and the other media spads, a polemicist. ‘So who are of their tribe?’ I said, munching on a croissant this morning.
‘Oh the usual. Piers Morgan, Owen Jones, Peter Hitchens, Alastair Campbell.’
‘Don’t bring AC into this,’ Vish said, drafting something I need to contribute to the debate on INSERT DEBATE HERE later this week while also keeping an eye on the inbox.
‘I’m sorry, but anyone who has been banging on about Brexit and Trump for ten years is a polemicist. Rory Stewart is not one of them.’
‘Rory taught Prince Harry how to read,’ Vish said.
‘He should have been his lawyer,’ I said, standing by the coffee machine because this office is a democracy and I get my round in when needed. ‘So who are the good guys, and don’t just rattle off Guardian commentators!’
‘Well, since you mention it: Jon Freedland, Nesrine Malik, Aditya Chakrabortty, Monbiot…’
‘Hang on, Monbiot is a full-on polemicist. Didn’t you spend 20 minute summarising his arguments against neoliberalism last week?’
‘Vish, everything he says is true.’
‘Are you a cult member, Em?’
‘Shut up. Anyway,’ she ran her finger down her phone, ‘there’s Byline Times and their fact-finders, and their lovely editor Hardeep Matharu.’
‘Alright, enough about Byline,’ Vish complained. ‘I suppose you’ll be telling me what bloody Peter Oborne has written next.’
‘He’s heard so many lies he’s practically a lie detector machine now,’ I said, looking at a copy of one of his books on the office shelf. ‘Bullshit detectors with a nose for the truth. Here, can I try to name some of the people on your list?’
‘Go ahead, Al. “We asked 100 people to name good commentators in British newspapers and websites. Your time starts now!”’
‘Okay. Erm, Matthew Syed and James Marriott in the Times, even though Syed is becoming more and more eggheady with every byline photo update. Ian Birrell, across multiple places. David Aaronovich, when he had an editor.’
‘Yes, yes, yes and no. Well, I’ll put him as a maybe.’
‘What’s wrong with Big Dave?’
‘Vish, remember how he used to be a Communist.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘You know it is. Communism died when the Soviet Union broke up. You’re so 1990-and-late.’
‘Children, please!’ I said. ‘Oh I’ve got one. Lord William Hague.’
Em-Dash and Vish both groaned. ‘You can’t be a good guy if you literally failed to win an election.’
‘Em, even Mandela would have lost to Blair that year. But you were still in school then. How about the Matts at The New World, Kelly and D’Ancona?’
‘Yes and yes, lots of respect around the spads for them. D’Ancona is like one of those people you meet at a think-tank mixer who can tell you everything and use five-syllable words while doing it.’
‘You can see his brain at work,’ I said, polishing off the croissant and pouring Vish his none-more-black coffee. He accepted the cup with a nod. ‘Okay, enough of the angels. Give me the devils, and remember: no swearing in this office, please.’
‘It didn’t used to be a curse-free office,’ Vish said. ‘Back in 2023, you’d be effing all over the shop.’
‘Those were different times,’ I said, remembering the slow decline of the Conservative Party in the 2023/24 session which you can read about in this ebook. ‘And yet the journalists all remain, unencumbered by the need to get anything right because they’re just asking questions. Go on, Em-Dash, give me the pack drill. Rollcall!’
Vish tapped out a military beat on his desk. Em shot him a look and he retreated to his inbox.
‘Madeline Grant, who does the Spectator podcast with Gove. Sarah Ditum and Allison Pearson, need I say more? Allister Heath, Tim Stanley, Fraser Nelson, Boris Johnson…’
‘The man said no swearing!’
‘No no,’ I interjected, ‘Johnson is not a swear word any longer. Nobody I bump into on the estate or in the chamber reads his bilge. He’s as irrelevant as John Cleese: his own tribute act fit for regional theatres and page 23 of the Saturday Mail and at the Remembrance Sunday wreath-laying ceremony. He is an ex-parrot.’
‘His old adviser Cleo Watson has a big media profile. Lots of people listen to the Poshcast.’
‘The Poshcast? Peterborough United, or Victoria Beckham?’
‘Shut up, Vish. She and Sophia Money-Money-Money talk about etiquette and stuff for debs.’
‘So Help, I Sexted My Boss but for people who went to Bedales?’
‘Pretty much, Al.’
‘I wish them well. I notice you didn’t mention the former Mrs Gove.’
‘Top answer! Sarah Vine polled the worst of any columnist, just ahead of Janice Turner of The Times, Amanda Platell and Ash Sarkar.’
‘Ash Sarkar? The leftie Novara woman?’
‘I literally think that is the first non-white columnist you have mentioned in the last three minutes.’
‘Shut up, Vish.’
‘Yes Vish, shut up. Hardeep Matharu isn’t white, and nor is Stephen Bush of the FT. Nor is Matthew Syed, actually, who last time I checked was a paid-up Conservative member.’
‘Him and the other 12 must really have had fun at Conference.’
‘And yet The Times still hires old Tory MPs like Matthew Parris and Tory peers like Danny the Fink. Where’s the new blood?’
‘Charlotte Ivers,’ Em said instantly. ‘She’ll write anything if you give her word count and deadline. People who know her say she’s a good laugh.’
‘So,’ I said, bringing this little chat to a close, ‘there are good guys and bad guys, gobs-on-sticks with blue or red flags, perfect for Question Time panels and heated debates. Does it add anything to anything?’
‘Yeah, does it help improve the national conversation?’ Vish added mid-slurp. ‘Or does it just add tinder to the box?’
Em paused. ‘Do you know, I’m not sure. I know all these guys are paid to have opinions, and to oversee the facts and draw up an argument that comes as close to 900 or 1200 words as possible so it fits into a little box on a page of a newspaper. But it all seems very old hat when you can just get a podcast or go on TikTok.’
‘Don’t mention TikTok!’ I said.
‘But the PM is trying to focus on new audiences, who do not subscribe to the old media. They don’t want to look like a Thicky Thicky Dumb Dumb in front of all their mates, to coin a phrase. I literally have not seen someone reading a physical paper today, unless you count the Metro or City AM on the train on the way in.’
‘Don’t, said Vish. ‘Times change, Em. Surprisingly nice coffee, boss.’
‘Thank you, Vish,’ I said, happy that I had employed two useful people who were in touch with the commentariat. I must start weaning myself off the habit of reading or caring about what Sarah Vine or Allister Heath have to say about what goes on in This Place. Have they scrutinised bills, as I’m doing this week? Do they go out and talk to constituents about problems with damp and landlords? Do they heck: they just opine in a manner that tickles the tummies of their audience, be they bored debs or retired members of the armed forces.
The role of the right-leaning newspaper is to assert the prejudice of the people who read them. David Yelland, who a few months ago infamously got two black Conservative grandees mixed up (‘David, I’m the other one,’ said Jimmy Cleverly astutely), has said that ‘we’re all a little bit Daily Mail at eight in the morning’, and he’s correct. But by 9am we’ve all adjusted to social norms and perhaps have some compassion for (deep breath) asylum seekers, refugees, single parents, the BBC, celebrities in the public eye, state schools, teachers, doctors, nurses, impartial judges, the Green Party and the Home Secretary.
Also, the Mail were the ones who realised it made economic sense to pay the brother of the late Princess of Wales to offer highlights of his book. And they deemed this to be more important than the price of diesel breaking the £2/litre barrier and NHS waiting lists. Enough already.
I am more interested in the independent media, the indies as I call them: Byline Times, the Manchester Mill, London Centric, the Londoner and, of course, the daddy of them all, Private Eye. Did you know that some people have their copy of the magazine taken from them at security in This Place? Their reputation precedes them, and we MPs know that the 250,000 loyal readers will be grateful for the titbits and morsels that go beyond the headlines. God bless Private Eye.
As for Byline, whose political editor was barred from two party conferences this year, they complain that only 1% of people who read their investigations pay for them. Shame! I would encourage readers of this diary to take out a digital subscription, in order to read columns by ‘bloody Peter Oborne’ and examinations of what they call the Dark Enlightenment which stalks the influencing game. By influencing, I don’t mean ‘look at this dress’ but ‘look at how we can get people to hate foreigners and love AI’. God bless Byline Times.