The politician who became a bin

Sorry for the radio silence. Including being silent on the radio. One of the quirks of doing a show on 5 Live is when sport happens, news doesn’t. So I am off air for two weeks during Wimbledon. Now I’m back just in time for the changing of the guard in Downing Street.

I’m writing this on an Avanti train from Manchester to London. We’re all Andy Burnham now.

WE LEARNED… this is political recycling: Lots of talk in recent days about a bin who might become a politician in Clacton, but what of the man who did the opposite?

Eugène-René Poubelle was a lawyer and diplomat in 19th century France, who left his mark on the lives of the French (and every English child who has learned French) when he became the préfet, or regional administrator, in charge of the Seine département. This basically put him in charge of central Paris and its suburbs.

The French capital had grown massively, with more and more of the boulevards and apartment blocks that we know today. And that meant more people, and more rubbish.

So in 1884 he decreed (quite ahead of his time) that every building had to have three containers of up to 120 litres to hold rubbish, with it sorted into paper, perishables, and pottery.

It wasn’t hugely popular. David Walker, professor in French at the University of Sheffield, told me on 5 Live: “Lots of people were pretty cheesed off because they’d been denied a way of making a living. Rag pickers, for example, used to pick over the waste stuff and make money out of reselling it or recycling it in their own way.”

And on January 16, 1884 Le Figaro published an article called these unpopular recepticles “La Poubelle”. And the French bin was born.

As for our British political bin, the by-election candidate has been translated quite literally to: Comte Tête-de-poubelle.

We tried to think of other politicians who gave their names to things: Boris Bikes, Earl of Sandwich, Short Money, Anderson Shelters, Belisha Beacons. You can probably think of better ones.

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WE LEARNED… which party is top of the pubs: On the subject of politicians giving their names to things, raise a glass to Edward Teather who has crunched the numbers on how many Weatherspoons are named after politicians: 24. The Liberals come out on top, which is not a sentence that’s been written for a long time. Only two ‘Spoons sat in the Commons after 1945: the Aneurin Bevan (in Cardiff) and the Harold Wilson (in Huddersfield).

The Clacton Weatherspoons is called the Moon and Starfish. For now.

WE LEARNED… that we’ve learned nothing: I have written before about the goldfish tendencies of political journalism, declaring everything unprecedented when the same thing happened five minutes ago.

The latest episode is the bizarre claim that there is something unusual about us not knowing who will be in Andy Burnham’s cabinet yet. In fact, we are told with breathless shock, we might not know until after he enters Number 10.

WHICH IS ENTIRELY NORMAL.

Incoming prime ministers (outside of a general election) name their chancellor, and everyone else, only once they’re in office. Gordon Brown did it. Theresa May did it. Boris Johnson did it. Liz Truss did it. And Andy Burnham will do it. On Monday.

WE LEARNED… one person isn’t backing Andy": Confirmation that it was mathmatically impossible for anyone to get the numbers to challenge Andy Burnham for the Labour leadership came with a tiny blip: Labour MP Neil Coyle nominated Catherine West (who back in May you might remember, if you’re not a goldfish, originally said she would stand in a contest against Keir Starmer if nobody else would).

I asked Coyle why:

“Members of my party in Central London, members of the public have been saying, “What on earth’s happened to the PLP? You look like a bunch of sycophants.” We’re not. I have my concerns. I didn’t want this to look like a complete coronation and that everyone was supine. I’m registering a slight discomfort. It won’t change things. I am very aware of this…

“I do also think there’s some legitimate London questions around the King of the North taking the monarchy, and or whatever you want to call, it in the Labour Party. Don’t underestimate how much we all want Andy to do well. I think there is a collegiality in us trying to make sure that this works. We all think he’ll have a better operation in Number 10, and he’ll be a better communicator, I think.

“There are legitimate questions about London and the South East. One MP… pointed out that Manchester’s closer to Birmingham than their North of England seat. You know, the idea that he’s King of the North even… he’s got a test in Newcastle, in Devon, in Birmingham, and a lot of other places, people and people need to feel the change.”

I have picked up similar, privately, from Labour MPs in the South West, Yorkshire and the East of England, nevermind those in Scotland and Wales who always worry about an Englishcentric party and government.

Which might be why Burnham really hammered this point in his Labour leadership acceptance speech today:

“I will be a leader for the north, the south, the east, and the west, for Scotland, Wales, and for Northern Ireland. Yes, the north of England has given me so much, everything, in fact. And in return, I have sought to give it the strongest voice I could. That was my job, but now I do the same for everywhere, because I see the same challenges everywhere I look.”

I will be reporting live from Downing Street for 5 Live all day on Monday, starting at 8am on breakfast, going through to my own show 2pm-4pm, and beyond. Keir Starmer will make a speech late morning before heading to the palace to hand in his cop’s badge, before Andy Burnham goes to see the King who will ask him to perform a government, with the new PM speaking outside No10 around lunchtime.

WE LEARNED… why the long face: I am trying to find a 5 Live listener in every constituency of the country to become a Member of Matt’s Parliament. So at the beginning of each show we pick a seat at random (using numbered ping-pong balls) and then listeners have until the end of the show to get in touch with the best claim/connection to the area. When it started the claims were basically “I live there, and it’s nice”. Over the past two years they have gone more creative, outlandish and inventive, often involving celebrities, misspent youths or truly tenuous tries.

On Tuesday the seat was Gower, in south west Wales. We had some great claims from listeners but Paul got in touch with a story so perfect it deserves a wider audience:

“When I was a university student in Swansea 40 years ago, a horse fell through a the roof of a stable landing on top of my car, flattening it (It was a two-storey stable). No one owned up to it.

“25 years later I moved to Gower and made a best friend who turned out to be the person who owned that horse.”

Thanks for reading this far, if you have. If you haven’t, nevermind. Do hit the like button.