What's it like in the Downing Street bunker?
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What's it like in the Downing Street bunker?
Margaret Thatcher's chintz wallpaper and bacon sandwiches with Gordon Brown
Boris Johnson finally knows that he doesn’t possess herd immunity. And when the herd moves, Number 10 is an extraordinary place to be holed up.
Downing Street is often under siege, with gangs of photographers at every gate, front and back, and a scrum of journalists and cameras at the door.
In my days working with Gordon Brown, we didn’t have illegal parties in Downing Street, so even though it was stormy outside, it was often eerily quiet inside. You can hear the clocks tick-tocking and the china cups chinking in the posh rooms where important visitors are hosted. The expensive deep pile carpets feel soft under your feet.
With multiple daily crises, I regularly got breaking news second-hand, often by text from the journalists standing outside the front door. Boris would have been dealing with a hundred issues this week, funny little ones like the non-arrest of a UK diplomat. He was getting his rebellion news last, not that it mattered.
A good PM starts work early. Gordon Brown would often be at his desk before 7.30 am, which is fine if you haven’t got to get a bus to work or a train from the suburbs. After a bad day, he would often invite us to the flat to eat whatever was in his freezer - usually lasagne.
When chancellor, the Browns’ flat remained like a museum exhibit. The bathroom still had Margaret Thatcher’s chintz wallpaper. Their telly was so old I think it still had valves. He was definitely prudent in a way Boris could never imagine.
Gordon loved fried breakfasts from the Downing Street canteen. I’m pretty sure Boris Johnson does too. He’s in for a shock, though. Gordon told me that just before he left number 10, he received an invoice for all his previous bacon sandwiches.
Number 10 is about the most inappropriate building to run the country. It’s poky. Traditionalists would moan about moving, but very few would disagree that the place is too cramped. Whoever is the new PM, they could do with bigger offices and better tech. I’d move out to more contemporary office space if it were me.
Political resignation letter of note
The prize for the most special ministerial resignation letter this week goes to Victoria Atkins. A single sentence stands out above all others:
“I can no longer pirouette around our fractured values.”
Pirouette around our fractured values? Ms Atkins did not add, “so I’ve decided to dance on your political grave”, but I think we all understand what was unsaid.
Talking of dancing
I see good old Theresa May is enjoying herself. She should have come to see Harry Styles with me and my sister, Anna.
The political sacking of note
A very well-informed observer tells me that when Michael Gove visited Boris Johnson urging him to resign, the levelling-up secretary issued an ultimatum for the PM to go by 9 pm, or he would leave the cabinet.
Boris then sacked Michael Gove at 8.59 pm, presumably also authorising the Downing Street source to call him a “snake”. The old me appreciates the attention to detail in this remarkable fuck-you gesture from Boris, who had a lot on that day.
Reading:
Another story about a high school dropout who leaves full-time poetry to be a maths genius and win prizes.
The Kingdom of Saudia Arabia bets big on longevity research.
Pity the poor lexicographer who had to risk defining “terf” for the new Oxford English Dictionary.
“Whenever I feel particularly humble, I tweet about myself.” How to flaunt your modesty.
Watching:
President Biden: “I never stopped admiring John. Never said a negative thing about him in my life because I knew his honor, his courage and his commitment”.
John McCain gets a posthumous Presidential Medal of Freedom.
McCain was a real American hero whose reputation was besmirched by Donald Trump. Good on Joe Biden for honouring his political opponent and friend.
Our own parliament has heroes too, by the way. I’d put Tobias Elwood, Dan Jarvis and Tom Tugendhat in that category.
What's it like in the Downing Street bunker?
I can’t shake the bad feeling to hear that, inside Nbr 10, you could have breaking news by text from a journo outside the front door. Perhaps it just echoes a time when Daily Mail and Sun journalists stood outside my door for 10 days and knew what I had for breakfast. When they followed my son to school and stopped him to question him. It just sounds very very wrong and there must be a healthier way to communicate what needs to be rightfully shared with whom. I’m not surprised that life made you ill Tom. I’m very pleased you’ve restored your health and that you’re working to help others do the same.