A fortnight ago, I was invited along to a dinner with John Reid in the private room of a London hotel. It sounded wonderfully conspiratorial, arranged at just a few hours’ notice at a time when speculation about the Labour party leadership was rife. I bounded in to find about a dozen other journalists and the most unwelcome guest of all: an overhead projector at the top of the table. We had been summoned to hear about the Home Office reorganisation he had announced that day.
All remarks that night were off the record, as is customary. But it would betray no confidences to say that Mr Reid rather disappointed those who had been hoping for a hint that he was about to knife Gordon Brown. His position in private seemed depressingly similar to his public proclamation that he will not say a thing about the leadership until Tony Blair quits.
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