Sketch: Cameron and Reid’s awkward blind date
Like a blind date that went horribly wrong, the moment required the two men to stand together. But there will be no phone call.
If there was ever a case of strange bedfellows, the joint platform shared by prime minister David Cameron and former Labour home secretary John Reid must be a turn up for the books.
Like an awkward blind date you’ve entered into as a favour to a friend, it was apparent from the very first minute that the two men had nothing in common, except for that one shared acquaintance – first past the post.
And so they both railed against its replacement, the evils of the “un-British” alternative vote.
They attempted to sustain the illusion that they could get along. That deep-seated differences could be kept at bay.
Yet despite their very best efforts to present an image of unity, it was clear the connection was skin deep. Longstanding political divides are not so easily overcome.
Reid, infamous as the man who declared the Home Office “not fit for purpose”, was always at his best growling across the frontbenches at Tory MPs.
So today’s vision of the short, balding Labour peer shackled alongside a taller, and rather tanned, Tory prime minister, must be the oddest political pairing in a series of odd political pairings during the AV campaign.
As the press conference wore on, there seemed to be a third presence in the room – an almost tangible physical demarcation appeared, despite their best efforts to keep in mind their mutual admiration for first past the post.
“David and I are party people,” Reid said. “But a political party is not an end itself. It is the way we try to achieve improvement in the life and wellbeing of the British people.”
Reid was permanently affixed to the side of the podium the furthest away from the prime minister. He barely looked in his direction during his speech.
The prime minister attempted to paper over the huge political void, making quips about the two men’s differences and referring to Lord Reid as “John”.
The former home secretary cracked a slight smile at a line about the Labour win in 1997 and nodded at a few points, but largely gazed impassively into the audience, waiting for his turn to speak.
False joviality, as the two party stalwarts referred to one another by their first names, held no trace of endearment or warmth.
There would be no absolutely need for desserts or coffee.
Both were straining to get away as the space between them seemed to become unbridgeable. A divide almost visible to the cameras.
So it was with relief that the tension was released as Mr Reid directed his ire towards the Liberal Democrats.
“It would not only be wrong, it would be an outrage to try to secure a change to the electoral system for tactical party advantage,” he growled.
“But there is a growing and well-founded suspicion that is at least partly the aims of the ‘yes’ campaign, and I include in that the leadership of the Lib Dems. Not a change in the public interest but a change, to some extent at least, based on narrow self-interest.”
Phew! Another point of common ground. The prime minister could not accuse the Lib Dems of political expediency outright, or risk imperilling the coalition.
But Cameron was happy to listen as the Labour big beast berated the junior coalition partner.
The Lib Dems were proposing a system irreconcilable with the very meaning of Britishness, Reid said. They were making the losers into winners.
And so the Labour attack dog was temporarily attached to a Tory leash. Foaming at the mouth in a way the Tories themselves cannot.
The divide on stage remained as the event drew to a close and the two men exited the stage. The most minimal of physical contact – a short handshake, a brisk wink from Reid and the pair were out of the door.
They had one shared one special morning and will undoubtedly never be seen together again.
