Damian Mcbride

George Galloway could be London’s Nicola Sturgeon

From our UK edition

When you tell people you work in or around politics, and if you can break through the initial contempt or boredom, one type of question tends ‎to surface first: 'what is so-and-so really like?' There are three answers to that question, only one of them good: 'They're exactly how they come across on telly', which — unless you're the likes of Boris Johnson or William Hague — is usually not a compliment. It tends to mean the individual is the kind of wooden, humourless, unthinking, battery hen politician that makes the public yawn, scream or both; 'They're a total (uncomplimentary word)'.

Why the leaked Nicola Stugeon memo rings true 

From our UK edition

After 15 hours of fascinating and - let’s face it - fairly exciting developments in l’affaire Sturgeon, here’s where I think we are, and I’ll try to stick as much as possible to incontrovertible facts, not political bluster: If this was all a grand misunderstanding, I think the various parties would have come together by now to explain what they think has happened, e.g. perhaps Nicola Sturgeon used the word ‘expect’, that got turned into ‘espoir’ back in the French embassy, and then relayed to the FCO as ‘hope’. That’s pretty plausible, but we’ve heard no such explanation yet.

Damian McBride: Why I clutched at my trousers in front of Jeremy Paxman

From our UK edition

They say nothing beats the feeling of seeing your book in print. But for me, the proudest moment was presenting the first copy to my Mum. She’s been ill recently and I read her most of the chapters in draft while she was convalescing, albeit leaving out the nasty bits. I sat with her that evening, reading her more of the book and feeling quite pleased with it. But the nervous feeling kicked in the next day when I saw the first extracts in the Daily Mail, and heard some of the reactions from the media and Labour folk. It strikes me as bizarre that people would reach conclusions and issue condemnations after reading 2 per cent of the book, but it didn’t stop them piling in.

Diary – 21 April 2012

From our UK edition

This week marked seven years since I agreed to quit my civil service career to become a political adviser to Gordon Brown, and three years since I was forced to quit that new role in shame. Following my resignation, I put my last vestige of professional pride into denying the chasing media pack the chance to put a camera in my face. My home was surrounded, so I spent seven nights staying with different friends in London, on occasion having to escape over fences or inside car boots when the pack found me. I learned two main lessons from this experience, besides not sending scandalous emails: first, switch your mobile phone off when not on the move — I was tracked down whenever I didn’t — and second, introduce yourself to any neighbours even if only staying one night.