Plus: The mystery of the missing Kwasi Kwarteng. The presence of the ebullient Brandon Lewis. The absence and recovery of Nick de Bois. Plus: Capita’s failures.
His debut as a phone-in host offered an indication that – despite being posh and old-fashioned – he has an exceptional ability to communicate in modern Britain.
My TV omnipresence. After The News. Two wheezes from the Chancellor. Will he be fired in a reshuffle? Oh, and p.s: it could take place on Monday.
All credit to her. She’s the first prime minister since Tony Blair to do one phone-in outside an election period. They always carry a slight risk for a politician.
Plus: Nigel Farage steps into my shoes; life after gangs; and the absurd Remainer response to the Government’s Brexit papers.
Plus: I’m beating James O’Brien; Labour’s telling silence on Venezuela; and saying farewell to a friend.
Plus: The decline of books. Morgan sees off the cult of Mogg. Why I won’t fly RyanAir. And: As I reach a significant birthday, I mull writing my autobiography…
Guido Fawkes, Tom Newton-Dunn and the Evening Standard diary banded together to suggest that I was about to do a far, far better thing than I have ever done…
Plus: An apology on behalf of the pundits, the press, the pollsters, the politicians and the parties for calling this election utterly, totally and completely wrong.
Oh, and Timothy and Hill should be moved on from being co-Chiefs of Staff – the former to head up policy, the latter press.
None the less, campaigns are not devised for the entertainment of journalists and websites. They are crafted to win votes. Which this one seems to be doing.
Plus: May needs Johnson. My election predictions. Strange selection decisions. And: why I decided not to put my name forward for the seat in which I grew up.
Plus: Where I was when the poll was announced. What I will be doing during the campaign. And: the temptation to seek to stand as a candidate tugs at my sleeve…
Plus: Hammond’s blunder. Peers’ folly. Stephen Hawking is not, repeat not, controlled by MI5. And: my inner Mary Whitehouse meets Katie Hopkins’ slack vagina.
Plus: Labour goes all Smethwick in Copeland. And: Sky News dumbs down at breakfast.