The Big Smoke

He marched in carrying a children’s picture book with a soft toy attached to the front saying ‘Look, it’s about a bear called Boris’. He was 20 minutes late, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He knocked back a glass of wine, wiped his mouth with his hand and then strode out on to the stage. Within moments he had the crowd exactly where he wanted. That is, directly below him and cheering his every word.

This was Ken Livingstone in action, and the evening was the final Time Out hustings before May’s mayoral elections. Frankly, it was spectacular stuff, and as Livingstone worked the room full of London voters I watched from the wings with a Time Out colleague. At one point we turned to each other and said ‘That’s it, he’s won it.’ A week later he lost. Remember, then, if Slice of Life ever makes a prediction about politics in London, exactly the opposite will happen.

As an ex-mayoral candidate, I know the heady rush of expectation that comes with being on the edge of power – and the deep, crushing disappointment that follows failure. How much worse if you have actually wielded power, if you have been boss of your city, and then find yourself replaced by someone, as Livingstone believes, who appears to have no idea of what he is doing?

Livingstone has decided that Johnson needs watching carefully, which is exactly what he was doing when he was joined by Time Out’s Rebecca Taylor at a Johnson press conference two weeks ago. Those who like Livingstone – and listening to the outpouring of public affection that greeted his stint on LBC last week, I’m pretty sure it’s not just me – presume his recent behaviour is the start of a journey towards regaining power in four years. Others suggest that we’re watching a man who is still struggling to accept that he lost.
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Only Livingstone knows the answer, but let’s not forget one of the reasons why he lost: the campaign of unwavering hatred mounted by the Evening Standard. Why does the Standard hate Livingstone so much? Is it the wine, the socialism, extending the congestion charge to the area surrounding the paper’s offices or is it, perhaps, his willingness to criticise Israel, something that British politicians are not allowed to do? Why this should be is a mystery, as many Londoners are happy to criticise Israel to the extent that they will walk around Hyde Park carrying banners that read ‘We are all Hezbollah now’.

In my limited experience, thousands of outraged Independent readers wearing Palestinian scarves aren’t much use against a Merkava tank or Apache gunship, but the point stands: criticising Israel is okay for you and me, but not for our politicians.

This country has done pretty well with politicians who drink – won a world war, for instance – but Livingstone isn’t a drunk. He just likes a drink.
And he always has; in January 1983, Time Out journalist David Rose reported from an evening spent at La Barca near County Hall. During the meal Livingstone drinks several glasses and, reveals Rose, ‘by the end of the evening, he will be mildly but distinctly tipsy’. No doubt he has been tipsy since. And why not? Livingstone’s drinking is honest, and clearly no problem to him. After all, he felt no need to give up for the duration of the run-up to the election, as Johnson did.

So, two bits of advice for Livingstone and a Slice of Life prediction: If you really are planning to run again in four years and snatch power back from Johnson, actually go and live in Israel. That way when you come back the Standard might lay off. I’ve even thought of a job. A man of your experience would make an excellent bars editor for Time Out Tel Aviv.

And the Slice of Life prediction? Johnson will win the next election. Easily.