A long awaited return, as the Labour leadership have now finally said something we can talk about. Although they're very keen we don't talk about that. We do talk about us not being able to talk, and also: Whether Sir Keith's response to the Tory handling of Covid is the right way. Why Jon shouldn't leave the party Becoming a branch delegate as a tiny way to influence things.

That Option No Longer Exists

Incompetent business

We rock down to forensic PMQs, where Keir Starmer got a letter from the government the other day, opened it and read it… is he a sucker? Adam thinks Sir Haircut’s playing a long game, can Jon agree constructively where he’s right and challenge where there are gaps. Is the NHS the wedge issue for Labour that we always seem to think it is. Is it too big to be conceived to be in danger? As we pass the date of the 2020 election that should have been - will Johnson or Starmer make it to 2024? And some navel gazing: a month since the Labour report - have we any confidence that the truth will be allowed out?

Stay alert, Constructive opposition, Save Lives

Recorded as part of a mega-session a few days ago, while the Prime Minister's health was still deterioating rather than merely his personality and competence (so we couldn't be as rude about him as he likely deserves), we instead kept on topic (Labour) and tackled the meaning of the new Shadow Cabinet. Interestingly, after "Who are the members of the Shadow Cabinent," Google's next assumed question is "What is the point of the shadow cabinet?" Well, for us (and especially Jon) it gives us a chance to determine the future policy direction of the Labour Party. The choices made by Kier (were they his choices?) are revealing (or are they?). Listen and you will know. From that, in just a few minutes of chat, we determine when, exactly, the planet will end. Give or take. And, of course, whether there is train-travelling future for Dianne Abbot or Richard Burgon. Links The Shadow Cabinet: See their faces on the Labour site See why Adam took so long to edit this: @Covid Street Photography Project Since we recorded... It seems Ed Miliband is still podcasting, for now (discussed in the episode). The part-time prime minister has been in ICU and is now out using convalescense as an excuse. No one has explained his lack of attention to detail before that date. An RAF plane going to Turkey (or not) has taken up a lot of media coverage.

Re-Arranging the Shadow Furniture

Locked down, no-one can leave. Oh, how we wish that was the membership of the Labour party as the inevitable post-leadership election exodus takes place. Or does it? Jon is placing the leadership election as an event worse than coronavirus, but not as bad as 12 December 2019. Adam thinks thr party has come back to him. What is the legacy of five years of supposed left hegemony, is it positive? And how much does Adam give the Corbyn era out of ten? More coughing, though fewer answers than that edition of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire (and which ones are funding Sir Keir)?

Left v. right on the Corbyn legacy

And why, with all the toilet roll panic buying we're glad we had those posters of Sir Keir through the post. Jon and Adam clash, comradely, on the leadership election (again…well, it does go on), and on open selection. We speculate about just who is funding Keir Starmer, and how you're meant to sell the Green New Deal. But mainly we spend our self-isolation telling each other why it is impossible to draw conslusions from local meetings - when no-one is able to really understand what's going on in them.

Not cock-up nor conspiracy, some people had just gone down the pub

It's a trickly time in the Labour Leadership. It really seems to have the potential to drag on, but all the candidates have been 'personally' texting Adam, even getting their buddies to give him a call. They don't give a flying SMS about Jon though. Has his choice of Twitter icon spared him from a deluge of internal party marketing or does the keeper of the database simply not believe Jon has something as sophisticated as a cellular telephone. They are a bit capitalist, after all. After a quick analysis of Adam's inbox, we look at the campaign to destroy the BBC – is it a distraction from destroying the economy, the NHS, or an essential elimination of an evil part of the capitalist status quo. Oh, and find out what happens if you lick the window of Tottenham Ikea. Clever or Stupid: EU Associate Citizenship, as promoted by Sadiq Khan.

Leadership in 160 characters or less

It's AGM season, and Adam went off to his first branch meeting since re-joining. Did he stay awake, or end up Chair? Do the nominations for leaderhip coming out of the CLPs have anything to say about the likely final result? Is the fake Keir Starmer running for leader? Is Liam Byrne really the grassroots of socialism in the Midlands? Are the people in the loaded Brexit vox pops clever or stupid? We get to the end of none of these questions.

Meet cute, with the fake Keir Starmer

To be clear, we're not only worried about the Hammers; the real question is can labour ever win back the men (and it is mostly men) from the all-seater terraces? We also don't manage to completely ignore the leadership debate, with Jon having made his choice and having a lot of thoughts on a certain drop out. Why does Jon dislike fellow Labour member Jess Philips so much? Is it a good idea for a party to have so much internal 'debate'?

Feeling Safe at The Bell End

It's always darkest before the dawn: a statement that is both factually untrue and unrepresentative of a January which seems to be dark inside and outside of the Labour party. Our tellys have gone dark too as there's no point watching. With Adam back in the tent pissing everywhere, and both being part of the selectorate for the leadership we propose that: the labour leadership election is important not so much for the Labour Party, but for the wider social movement. Because a left-led Labour is by necessity the focus for action on social justice and climate change - both parliamentary and extra-parliamentary. (Jon) and that Keir Starmer is great. (Adam) Yes, it's a question of leadership, of the way forward and whether we can remember that Lisa Nandy exists. Then we ask just what's the point of having a deputy leader? And also does the option of being in 'the resistance' still exist? And should it?

Bo selectorate

Just how "I told you so" will Adam get, given that he was predicting a Tory majority and blaming Jeremy Corbyn? Just how well did Adam's Renew party do? Adam and Jon are united in defeat. Who or what will they blame? And what now for centre left and Corbynite left?

Election Flu (it comes right after election fever)

*A short story, after the melt Charles Dickens, by Jon. * Thatcher was dead: to begin with. There could be no doubt about that. Johnson had been to the funeral himself, sat near Osborne who was failing to hold back the tears. She was as dead as a doornail. Or less metaphorically, the 96 football fans who her government smeared and denied justice after Hillsborough. It was a cold afternoon in early December, and after cancelling another interview, Johnson was heading home for an evening with a good Russian vodka given to him by a close friend. The knocker on the door of Johnson’s temporary accommodation seemed to form a face, the digits 1 and 0 became a winking eye and a nose that seemed to follow the average wage down a graph. And was what was once a letterbox a handbag? “Boris Johnson” a modulated voice, lowered by media training. “Yes, mummy?” he gulped. “Mr Prime Minister sir?” Johnson shook his head. It was a police officer speaking, a short female one that he often saw beside the door. “We’ve been collecting, Sir” “I… I… I… er” “For some of our colleagues down the station, those with families, Sir, some are struggling. Using foodbanks. We’re just passing the hat around, trying to give them a good Christmas.” “I… I… I… don’t have my wallet, you know. I’ll get you on the way out.” He went through the door that was opened for him, and snapped to an aide: “get that woman off number 10 detail.” Stamping up the stairway he glanced at the portraits. None of them looked at him, or did the one in the pearls look as he moved past? He smoothed his hair down and pushed into his flat - it was empty, the current girlfriend and the dog thankfully absent again. Settling down in one of the armchairs by the TV, he turned it on – flicking through the Sky box for one of those big American series he felt he had to watch in case he was asked about them in press conferences. The gangster ones were alright, actually, He briefly rested on a BBC Four documentary, that brown portrait swirl backing of an 80s talking head. It was her, she was speaking about the miners strike. He flicked onward, leaving her in the top corner of the guide. “Boris Johnson,” she said. But when this was recorded she wouldn’t have known him, he was still at Oxford, great days with Dave, Nick and the chaps. “Listen to me.” He checked his glass like one of the comedy drunk tramps in a film who witness an alien landing. Surely it wasn’t spiked, damn Russians. He pressed the button and thankfully Game of Thrones came on. “Johnson,” the voice from behind him now. “You are to be visited by three ghosts. “Piffle,” he said. “This is a trick. Is that you Govey?” “I am as real as I ever was,” she said. He turned and saw Margaret Thatcher. Almost as he remembered. But around her neck instead of the usual pearls was a rusting chain, pulling her down and stretching across the floor and out of sight. “You are to be visited by three spirits.” “I’ve barely had a drop.” he smirked, this would get the apparition on side. “Shut up. Every word is agony, you must listen for once. Around my neck is my chain, every evil deed you do in life adds a link. It weighs around you in death, for eternity. Mine has more than three million links, for each of the unemployed and more still for the thousands of children of miners left in dead towns without hope. Your chain grows link-by-link day-by-day.” “This is some fantasy island stuff. Did I have a bad meal? That oven-ready thing tasted a bit off.” “Three spirits will visit you this very night. They will show you the error of your ways. They will question you and make you question yourself — or you will end up like me. Or Reagan, you should see the length of his chain.” He stamped out of the room and shouted at his smart speaker to play The Clash. London’s Burning kicked it a high volume. The vision was to be banished. “I decline to be interviewed by these three ghosts,” he muttered, “It’s not what the public want. Too combative, my points won’t be heard.” When he felt the ghost was clear he moved back to the TV and wing-backed armchair and a glass of red wine. He half-watched the TV, half worked on a chapter of his new book about how the past was good. The past, mmmm. He dozed. “Did you spill red wine on the fucking laptop?” “Wha- I… I…” But it wasn’t an angry blonde woman in a flowery dress. It was a man in a wheelchair. He propelled himself forward into Johnson’s shins. “I am the ghost of Christmas Past. It’s a living, or rather not… I lost my PIP payments. I couldn’t get universal credit because some bastard spilled a drink on my laptop. The library was closed when I went to use the internet. I got nothing for six weeks. I starved. I’m dead, you know.” “I… I’m sorry to hear that.” “You fucking voted for it. You’ve responsible. Look out of the window.” In the dark, stretching far past the railings at the end of the street, larger than the last anti-Trump march, were thousands and thousands of people. “Who are they? There’s no protest authorised.” “130,000 — all those that Tory austerity killed. Some hadn’t been able to work, some worked all hours but still couldn’t afford to eat. They are all working now, on links for your chain. Unless you change your ways.” “I… er. I’ve only been in power around 100 days, we’re going to invest in social care, we have a plan. My record speaks for itself.” With that the ghost of Christmas past wheeled himself out of the door and down the stairs, with a crash. Johnson put on a Gary Barlow CD and started to get ready for bed. Just as he undid his belt and let his heavy trousers fall to the floor he noticed a knock at the door. It was the duty officer of the cabinet office. “Prime Minister, you have a meeting.” “This wasn’t diarised.” “Never the less it is in your diary, and the gentleman is here. I’ve shown him in to your private study.” The officer opened the door to the study, and Johnson, still buckling his belt held out his other hand to the tall greying man standing in there. “Prime Minister Boris Johnson,” the introduction surely wasn’t necessary, “Professor Philip Alston, United Nations special rapporteur on extreme poverty.” “Can I call you Philip, Phil, Pip?” “You can call me the ghost of Christmas present.” Johnson sighed. This was tiresome. They’d already had someone skim and dismiss this man’s report. It had been dealt with. “You sir, are responsible for a systematic immiseration of a significant part of the British population”. Belt now re-fastened he launched into the script. He was good at remembering lines. Not as good as Gove, Gove always had a line, but he could hold his own. “Your report — into the previous government, I might say – was a completely inaccurate picture of our approach to tackling poverty. Great Britain is among the happiest countries in the world. “Again, a total denial of a set of uncontested facts. In your country today 14 million people are living in relative poverty. I think breaking rocks has some similarity to the 35 hours of job search required per week to receive universal credit for people who have been out of work for months or years,” he said. “They have to go through the motions but it is completely useless. That seems to me to be very similar to the approach in the old-style workhouse. The underlying mentality is that we are going to make the place sufficiently unpleasant that you really won’t want to be here. A hostile environment, if you will.” “If you don’t leave, this will be a hostile environment, for, er… you. I have a dog here, er… somewhere… you may have seen the pictures.” Professor Alston looked at the floor. How could you deal with this. He walked out, straight through the door but still managed to slam it. The Prime Minister shrugged. It was finally time for bed. Johnson woke as the clock struck three. A little disorientated. There was a figure at the end of his bed, that of a five or six year-old child. He didn’t recognise her, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t one of his. “I am the third and last spirt you will see tonight. I am the ghost of Christmas yet to be.” Unexpected children turning up was one of Johnson’s great fears but he pulled himself together and sat up. “And what do you want?” The child looked cold, a thin coat over a dirty nightdress. Bare feet. Her voice trembled as she spoke, “I wish to tell you about my future, so that you may alter it and yours. The future isn’t written. But if you don’t change, and you don’t lose the election, I will freeze to death on the street this very Christmas eve, made homeless by your policies, left to perish by your callous cuts.” “Why are you homeless, are there no prisons, no workhouses?” “Your rules will say my parents made themselves intentionally homeless, so we are entitled to no support. Not even a room at the Premier Inn, nothing strong nor stable.” “This is terrible. We are going to do something.” “To stop your chain growing Boris Johnson all you have to do is change. Something simple would do — you don’t have to stop there being billionaires, just making them pay their fair share of tax would produce enough money to house every one of the 135,000 kids who will be homeless this Christmas.” “Er… blu…bla… I… er… we…” He thought hard, there was no answer to this. Johnson was stumped, this was far worse than Phillip and Holly. He ruffled his hair and pointed joshingly at the freeing figure before him: “No, no this is the politics of envy. We’re going to move forward, get Brexit done. Unleash Britain’s potential” “Of course it won’t benefit those that voted for it, but hey ho - creates more market access to the country’s public services. We’ve all gotta make a crust. Would you like to take a selfie before you go?” The small child shrugged, pulled her coat around her and faded through wall and out into the gathering sleet. “Dom,” he What’sApped, “take a shinny penny from party funds Go find the biggest dead cat you can. I think there are some things we need to hide right now.” And with that, Johnson added another 17 million links to his chain. There’s no changing them. The only good end to this story is to vote for real change and to get them out on Thursday 12 December.

Special episode: Boris Johnson's Christmas Carol

There's an election going on. Our thoughts on the campaign, the polls, and predictions and some stuff from the behind the curtain as Jon kills himself canvassing and Adam thinks he might go for the Labour leadership. We learn that when you knock doors: there are people who seem angry about voting Tory, there are people that seem guilty, there are those who feel somehow forced to; but you never get to meet any that are enthused or happy about it. It's Christmas and Swinson's Lib Dems is the vision Clarence the angel shows the Labour left to remind us all it's worth it. Plus the only chart midweek that matters and this lovely warm Christmasy playlist to deliver leaflets and drive to marginals with. Keep going, comrades. Jeremy will. Must Be Corbyn (Socialism's Coming) The Christmas single. Buy/stream now… *Amazon *iTunes *Spotify *Others

Exclusive: Boris Johnson agrees to interview with Sooty

There was not a mass debate, but merely a head to head. We go over the back and forth of the cut and thrust. Crucially no-one laughs at anything, no matter how many jokes we attempt. What's the deal with the Green New Deal Why Boris Johnson is not popular. The dementia tax, have we forgotten about it? What will the Tories do for policies? Arron Banks: Clever or Stupid? Why Dickens is a melt and why we might get presents for Boris's kids. How many again? Plus, after the credits, a little preview of the Christmas hit single Must Be Corbyn (Socialism's Coming)…

We make our own damson jam, thank you very much

With the election run up now thoroughly underway, Jon and Adam take a look at last week in what passes for politics without a parliament, and look at which MPs we'll never see again. Since everyone is stupid in election season, we've decided to add a new featuer in which Jon tells Adam why left-dominated Corbyn's Labour isn't stupid policy area by policy area, starting with Education. It's actually very educational. Well, in so far as we can manage. In our new 'targeted stupidity' section, we see if Boris John is stupid at electioneering. Whough we'll all find out soon enough.

Education, Education, Education.

Like Donkey Kong: the election. Corbyn chose it (kinda) presumably because it was bad politics to lose the vote to Johnson for an election that was gonig to happen anyway. Possible election outcomes in order of Adam's fantasy: Conservative overall majority ( = fairly hard deal-based brexit and slim chance of a no-deal in under a year? + sets up the ultimate battle: a Labour leadership election. Similar Tory 'mild win' as before - more of the same...chaos Labour somehow in pole polition to form minority / coalition of sane Actual Labour win - how can this happen asks Ad? Students all over the shop, Labour (and especially Corbyn) far less popular with voters in general and remainers in paticular than in 2017. Is there any credibility left in the "Corbyn will pull something out of the hat" bullshit we keep hearing from the lefties (based on his losing in 2017 by less than anticipated)? Liberal Democrat win (well, you've got to discuss it) - a piss diamond victory Does the option of decent local press coverage still exist? Birmingham Live (Mail) mistook actions in a game Roblox for real life - and these people are meant to cover the WM Mayoral race? Clever or Stupid? Jeremy Corbyn - he's just made a big choice and it might well lead to humiliation & resignation (says Adam).

It's on...

In the red corner Jon, a socialist. In the other his old comrade Adam, a new Labourite who is now back in the big tent. They attempt to talk about Labour and politics nicely together. Email us: hello@thatoption.co.uk

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That Option No Longer Exists

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