A generous accolade

Iain Dale is one of the two leading political bloggers in Britain in terms of visitor numbers and influence within the political media as a whole.

So I'm extremely honoured to have been named as the No 1 journalist blogger in the country in Iain's latest set of listings, above the likes of Adam Boulton, Nick Robinson and Stephen Pollard.

If I'm honest, all three of those get more traffic than I do, but I do try to provide something a bit different from what the mainstream media are doing a lot of the time and I'm glad Iain (and other loyal readers of my blog) seem to have recognised this.

It's also a typically generous tribute from Iain who, even though he has reached the top of this particular branch of the profession, regularly takes the time to promote this and other blogs which are not nearly so well read as his is, for which thanks.

Coming soon: My top 10 political bloggers...

Alastair Campbell launches World Cup blog

I originally thought this was a spoof, but yes, it would appear to be the genuine Alastair.

Whatever his record in British politics, and I personally take the view that, with the sole exception of Rupert Murdoch, his has been the most baleful influence on British public life over the past decade, I've always thought he talked a certain amount of sense when it came to football, so accordingly, he can have a link on this blog!

You can access the great man's views HERE. Hat tip: Skipper.

My Top 10 World Cup Memories

Like most fortysomethings I'm a great one for nostalgia, and at World Cup time there's nothing so nostalgic as watching all those TV replays of great World Cup goals from the past and remembering where you were and what you were doing at the time. So here, with thanks to Nick Hornby for making this sort of thing respectable, are my Top 10 World Cup Memories.

1. When Lineker Scored, 1990. From a purely footballing point of view, Italia '90 was not one of the the greatest World Cups. There was no single outstanding player to touch the likes of Pele, Cruyff and Maradona, and it was eventually won by a workmanlike German side after a terrible final against Argentina. But this was the tournament which re-ignited the British public's love affair with football, thanks to England's unlikely run to the semis and the artistry of Paul Gacoigne. I watched the semi final against Germany at the Rifleman's Arms in Belper with my then housemate David Gladwin, occasional poster on this blog and one of the best friends I will ever have in this life. Germany scored a freak goal, an Andy Brehme free-kick that struck Paul Parker and looped over Peter Shilton's head, and we began to resign ourselves to the loss of our improbable World Cup dream. And then...and then...in the 81st minute, Gary Lineker got hold of a long through-ball, held-off the German defence and squeezed the ball into the far corner. The pub went wild. More wild than any place I have ever been in my life. And though we went on to lose that penalty shoot out, it was a moment we will both savour for ever.

2. Marco Tardelli, 1982. I love the Italians and will always support them against any other team in the world except England. So when they played Germany in the 1982 final, I was desperate for them to succeed. Apart from anything else, they had beaten the best team in the tournament, Brazil, in a thrilling 3-2 encounter, while the Germans had fouled their way to a semi-final victory against France memorable chiefly for Harold Schumacher's disgraceful assault on Patrick Battiston. The final began tentatively, but when Marco Tardelli scored to put Italy 2-0 up, victory for the Azzuri was assured. Arms pumping, hair flying, the blond midfielder ran towards the touchline, his face contorted in an upwelling of pure joy. It was the finest outpouring of emotion ever seen on a football pitch, and the greatest goal celebration of all time.

3. Ballet, 1970. I was seven at the time of the time of the greatest World Cup tournament in history, and I can't say I remember having watched any of the matches from beginning to end. But as the competition went on and began to dominate more and more dinner-time conversation, I became dimly aware of everyone raving about this player whose name sounded like "belly" or "ballet" or something, and as small children do, I instantly adopted him as a hero. In the final, Brazil took on Italy and we all settled down to watch. "Ballet" scored the opening goal, a header of towering dimensions, and my interest in the game satiated, I took myself off to play in the garden, thus missing the Carlos Alberto goal that I would now rank as the greatest ever.

4. A Touch of the Cruyffs, 1974. Four years on, Brazil were a shadow of the 1970 side, and their two central defenders, Luiz Pereira and Ze Maria, were the dirtiest players I have ever seen. At the opposite end of the artistic spectrum, the Dutchman Johan Cruyff was probably the most sublime. In Holland's opening match against Uruguay he perfected the famous "Cruyff swerve," turning a hapless opponent near the dead ball line and prompting David Coleman to exclaim: "He's left him for dead!" Later, in the semi-final, Cruyff's Holland came face to face with the Brazilians, and completely destroyed them, Cruyff scoring a goal after getting on the end of a sweeping move he had initiated, and Ze Maria being deservedly sent off. Sadly they lost the final to the Germans, but Cruyff had done enough to ensure his place in World Cup history.

5. England finally catch fire, 1986. England made a farcical start to the 1986 tournament, losing 0-1 to Portugal and then drawing 1-1 with Morocco, a match in which Ray Wilkins managed to get himself sent off for throwing the ball at the referee. Bryan Robson had also been injured, so his managerial namesake Bobby had to reshape the side, teaming Peter Reid with Glenn Hoddle in central midfield, and Gary Lineker and Peter Beardsley up front. The results were instantaneous, a 3-0 victory against Poland which I watched, joyously, with my housemates at the student digs we shared in Sheffield. It was a carefree time between the end of my full-time studies and my entry into the world of full-time work. The exams were over, the sun was shining, and there was nothing to do but watch the footie and drink beer.

6. The Bridge Street hold-up, 2002. Twelve years on, and David Gladwin and myself were back in Belper and back at the Rifleman's Arms for the England v Argentina group match. England needed to win this one. A dull 1-1 draw against Sweden in the opening game had left us struggling for points with another potentially difficult game against Nigeria to come. Thankfully Argentina were not the side they had been in the Maradona years, and a scorching Michael Owen run into the box earned a penalty which David Beckham converted. There then followed the tensest hour of football watching in my life as we battled to hold onto our lead. When the whistle blew, the entire pub spilled out onto Bridge Street, temporarily halting traffic along the main A6 route through the town, but I doubt if the drivers minded much.

7. Caniggia gets his come-uppance, 1990. My choice as the funniest moment in World Cup history for all sorts of reasons. The Argentine forward Caniggia, who wore his hair a bit like the early Brigitte Bardot, had been a star of the 1986 tournament, but had lost a yard of pace by Italia ' 90 and was meat and drink for the tough Cameroonian defenders in the opening match. One of these was the aptly-named Massing, a huge defensive midfielder whose favoured method of dealing with difficult opponents was to up-end them. Eventually he sent Caniggia flying and was sent off, prompting Ron Atkinson to reveal his true colours. "I hope his mother isn't watching," said commentator Brian Moore. "She's probably up a tree somewhere," replied Big Ron. Amazingly, it was to be another 14 years before he was sacked for making racist outbursts on live TV.

8. Lorimer Strikes, 1974. My mum's family all supported Arsenal. My dad's family all supported Tottenham. So as a youngster I resolved this potentially lethal family conflict by supporting Leeds. Okay, so it was a bit like North London youngsters opportunistically supporting Man U or Chelsea today - they were the top side in the country at the time. But I embraced them with a fervour and none more so than Peter Lorimer, who played in my schoolboy position of No 7 and who had the hardest shot in the game. So when he fired Scotland into the lead against Zaire in the 1974 finals with a trademark piledriver from the edge of the area, I leapt for joy. Sadly, a virtually identical goal a year later for Leeds in the European Cup Final was disallowed for offside.

9. Tears and the Clown, 1973. Like most football crazy 11-year-olds, I was looking forward to watching England compete for the 1974 World Cup in Germany, but our hopes were shattered by the 1-1 draw against Poland in October 1973. This was really my worst World Cup memory, but it makes this list simply because it was such an unforgettable game. Time and again, England rained shots on the Poland goal only to be defied by 'keeper Jan Tomaszewski, whom Brian Clough had branded a "clown." What is forgotten is that England were effectively playing with ten men, the Tottenham centre-forward Martin Chivers having one of his frequent off-days. By the time England actually took part in a World Cup again, in 1982, my childhood was over.

10. 1966 And All That. Okay, so I don't really remember it. I was three at the time, and even though I clearly remember the TV pictures of the Aberfan coal mining disaster which took place just a matter of months later, I cannot claim to recall seeing Geoff Hurst or Martin Peters bang in any of their goals. But I do nevertheless have a very dim recollection of something happening, of neighbours' walls being thumped on, mum and dad getting excited, and people pouring out of their homes onto our little suburban street in North London to celebrate. Looking back, I think we all underestimate what a great achievement it really was, and how much we owe to "that marvellous man Alf Ramsey" as my dad called him. One day, no doubt, we'll win the thing again - but they don't make 'em like him any more.

Not another new political blog....?

Well, no, not exactly. I won't be using In the name of God, go! as an alternative to this blog, which I have been running for a year or so now and which has built up a small but loyal readership - but rather as a sort of companion volume.

The new blog's URL is linfordunlimited.blogspot.com and that pretty well sums it up really. Not all of my newspaper columns and other writings are displayed on the web, so this is a place where I will not just be linking to them, but reproducing them in full for the benefit of anyone out there who is sufficiently interested to read my views.

I've called the blog In the name of God, go! after a column I wrote in the Newcastle Journal, Lincolnshire Echo and Derby Evening Telegraph earlier this year in which I quoted Oliver Cromwell's dismissal of the Rump Parliament in relation to Tony Blair.

"You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!"

The desire to see the back of Blair has been the main theme of my political commentaries for the past three years. It seems to me self-evident that he should have gone in 2003, after the shameful death of Dr David Kelly for which his government was directly responsible.

Had he done so, I believe Gordon Brown would have led Labour to a much bigger election victory in 2005, and would thereby have had the mandate to renew the party in office and lead the left in a new and less intellectually sterile direction than Blairism.

But he hung on, and in so doing he has poisoned Brown's inheritance to the point that, if and when he does take over, he will be fighting a rearguard action against a resurgent Conservative Party which is seeking, with some success, to take politics onto new and fresh ground, based around the "happiness agenda."

If there is a change of Prime Minister, I might change the title of the blog. But until then....

World Cup podcast goes live

I did warn you that there would be the odd reference to the World Cup on this blog over the next few weeks...so here's a plug for the World Cup podcast I've put together with two colleagues on the this is website team, Simon Delaney and Ste Ashworth.

Simon and Ste are fairly upbeat about England's chances, with or without Wayne Rooney, so it's left to me to bring a bit of balance and perspective, notably over Sven's bizarre decision to take only four forwards, one of whom is injured, one of whom is not 100pc match-fit, and another of which has never started a Premiership match.

You can hear the podcast by clicking here and following the links.

My hot World Cup tips: Winners: Argentina. Star player: Juan Roman Riquelme. Surprise package: Australia. England's prospects: Semi finalists. Venue of choice for watching the games: The Rifleman's Arms, Bridge Street, Belper, Derbyshire.

Why Ken Livingstone is right about the Scots

Source: Public Expenditure Statistical Analysis, HM Treasury, May 2006. Hat tip for graphic: Conservative Home.

Give Thatcher a private funeral

My old Newcastle Journal colleague Brian Brady reported in this week's Scotland on Sunday that Tony Blair is planning a State Funeral for his ideological mentor and foreign policy adviser, Baroness Thatcher.

Apparently this latest wheeze by the Prime Minister is going to cause great distress within the Labour Party - no change there then.

But for my part, I think Downing Street should come clean about this, and make clear that they do indeed intend to mark the eventual passing of Lady Thatcher with the most fitting tribute they can devise.

They should confirm that she will receive a State Funeral, then announce a competitive tendering process to hand over the organisation of the event to whoever can do it at the least cost to the taxpayer.

Labour needs a clean sweep

I've so far been pretty silent on this blog on the whole John Prescott saga, but that's because I was saving it up for my newspaper columns and accompanying Podcast over the weekend.

Basically my argument is that Prescott's useful career in frontline politics is at an end and that he should go - but so, by exactly the same token, is the Prime Minister's.

"Mr Prescott’s sole case for continuance in office rests on the argument that it would be better for the Labour Party to resolve the leadership and deputy leadership issues at the same time.

"True - but that is not an argument for Mr Prescott to cling on till Mr Blair goes. It is, rather, an argument that they should both go now."

The obvious truth of this is borne out by today's dreadful poll result showing David Cameron's Tories are now a clear ten points ahead of Labour.

This Government is finished politically, and there is now nothing more that Tony Blair can do or say which could convince the public to elect Labour again. Except by resigning of course.

Instead, Downing Street wastes its time on pointless and divisive scheming, telling friendly newspapers that Gordon Brown risks losing his frontrunner status to Alan Johnson unless he presents an "absolutely Blairite, New Labour face."

"There can be no sense of an ancien regime being succeeded by a new, Brownite order," a Blair ally tells the Observer. Wrong. A new order - whether Brownite or otherwise - is exactly what Labour now needs.

Top blogging!

To round off the week, here's three things I've really appreciated on the blogosphere over the past few days.

Jonathan Calder explains why the selection of Tim Collins as Tory candidate would be great news for the Lib Dems in Bromley and Chislehurst.....arch-conspiracy theorist Shaphan shows how MI5 might have been behind the pictures of Prezza playing croquet...and Femme de Resistance shows why she could be the next Nancy Banks-Smith with her review of The Line of Beauty.

Sheer class.

Peter Crouch, eat your heart out

No matter how much body-popping robotic dancing England striker Peter Crouch manages over the next few weeks, this will surely never be beaten as the greatest England goal celebration of all time.


PS Advance warning to fellow politicos - this blog may well feature more footie-related stuff between now and July 9!

Catherine Bennett: A response

If I were to write a piece on this blog saying that women used to meet up in coffee shops whenever they wanted to get away from "the hubby" and swap smutty jokes, but now they just text eachother on their mobiles, I would probably be regarded as a bit of a misogynist.

So why is writer Catherine Bennett allowed to get away with this sort of thing in today's Guardian?

I think this piece highlights what some of us have suspected for a while: that while the Guardian is clearly fascinated with the political blogosphere - some think it pays us far too much attention - it is a fascination that is mixed with contempt.

In this context, I am still not quite sure what to make of the Comment is Free uber-blog. Is it really about pluralism and free speech, or is it just an attempt to put the rest of us out of business?

If the latter, it seems to have failed spectacularly. As Ms Bennett herself notes, the comments section of CiF has already been largely annexed by what she charmingly terms "the virtual men's room."

So what if men are more inclined to take up political blogging than women? After all, it's surely healthier than drinking, less harmful to animals than fishing, more constructive than wanking, and more interesting than reading The Guardian.

Police mergers: Time to stop this anti-democratic nonsense

Sometimes, governments have to do things which are unpopular because they are necessary. Gordon Brown's decision to raise national insurance by 1p in 2001 to free up resources for the NHS and schools comes to mind.

But the plan to create regional police forces across England and Wales strikes me as neither popular nor necessary. In fact, for a government already in deep political trouble in other areas, it strikes me as potty.

I have written on this before in the Derby Evening Telgraph, one of many local papers who have campaigned against a proposal which appears to have very little public support.

Now, it seems, Labour MPs are cottoning-on to the fact that this is a certain vote-loser and urging the new Home Secretary, John Reid, to ditch the plan.

If he has any sense, he'll do what they ask. Reid's reputation as Home Secretary - and as a potential future leadership candidate - will rest on how far he succeeds in tackling the chaos of the immigration system and clamping down on violent crime, not whether he can successfully reorganise the police service.

The Government's argument that bigger forces are required to tackle major organised crime and counter-terrorism is a complete red herring.

We already have a new national agency for dealing with organised crime, and there is no reason why we could not bring back the old Regional Crime Squads to deal with other major cross-border investigations.

But 99pc of policing is local, not national or regional. That is why the present structure of locally-based forces, accountable to local people, should stay.

60pc leftie, 40pc Tory....

I'm generally a bit sceptical of these sorts of questionnaires, but if you allow for the Americanisms, this isn't far off...

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 40% Conservative, 60% Liberal

Social Issues: 75% Conservative, 25% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Ethics: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?