Ed Balls Must Be Destroyed: The Secret History of the Labour Party

David Miliband must rue the day that Labour’s top scientists burst into his office in a fevered frenzy, flush with news of their latest breakthrough. One can understand his amazement and perhaps awe, as they explained that the technology now existed to grow an understudy for the party leadership using a sample of his DNA.

Tony Blair’s bio facility, sixty feet below Millbank, had been working on the problem since the 1997 election victory. Blair needed an heir, his natural offspring being too young and possessing too broad a range of interests to be serious contenders. What was needed was someone less human, a machine politician who’d prosecute his duties as leader without pity. That man, they thought, was David Miliband.

Miliband had been groomed to replace Blair from the moment it became apparent that Gordon Brown, code named Leviathan, had ambitions that far exceeded his communicative stock. When Labour’s lab coated geniuses pulled up their chairs on that fateful day, and began to explain to a disbelieving David what their computer models thought possible, his position as a future party leader was a given. ‘As the sun shall rise and the waters break on the shore,’ they told him, ‘so shall you be leader of this party.’

However, these brains had a warning and they now asked David to consider it. What would happen if he were killed or incapacitated before he could assume the position? Tragedy, they reminded him, could strike at any moment, just look at what had happened to Margaret Beckett. ‘But Margaret’s alright,’ protested David, only to be greeted by an uneasy silence.

The plan, they explained, would be to grow a younger, similar version of the leader presumptive. Not identical of course, as internal polling showed that a cloned politician was distrusted by the public, but a hybrid creature with a 20% genetic top up from a party volunteer. Mock-ups suggested that he’d retain most of the donor’s intellect and at least 90% of his height. ‘What about my ambition?’ Miliband asked, only to be told, ‘relax David, he’d be our boy, he’d be activated when we were ready.’

So, on April 6th 1999, David Miliband filled a vial with Mili-blood and signed off on a project that would be henceforth known as “Little Brother”. Eighteen months later, in a holding room in Blair Bunker F, David met his backup. Awkward, still learning to speak and so saddled with a lisp and a nasal drone, plus ever so gangly, the new Miliband was introduced. ‘David, meet Ed’.

The party machine moved quickly to insert Ed into the Labour narrative in time for the 2005 election. A retrospective “archive” was created, detailing the boy’s “childhood” and political leanings. Stories were planted in the media and his image circulated.

To make him distinctive he was given some Brownite credentials, as the Blairites were keen that the understudy not detract from their man by appearing to have too much credibility. He’d have a change of heart if and when the time came, and his conversion, perhaps in tribute to his late brother, for whom they’d be a public outpouring of grief, would propel the backup to the leadership.

Of course we now know that hubris and the folly of perverting nature derailed these plans. David Miliband could only look on in horror as Ed began to believe his brief, conditioning himself to follow Brownite doctrine with a zeal that terrified the party’s top brass. When Gordon Brown finally fell, ravaged by the electoral system he’d tried so hard to circumvent, there was disbelief as Ed entered the leadership contest.

The research group responsible for Ed’s creation argued something must have gone wrong with his conditioning package. Perhaps a rogue word in parliament had prematurely activated him. Indeed, the Hansard was meticulously scanned for words and phrases that might have triggered the Aardmanesque b-side. Thousands of hours spent researching the data could find no instance of anything that came close to the go code, “public ownership”.

Well, we know what happened next. Ed, in an extraordinary quirk of Labour’s AV system for electing its leaders, managed to leap frog David in the final round. I for one, was relieved, as documented in previous blog entries, but had I been a neutral, I might have conceded that the lesser qualified of the two candidates had won it.

Though I’m broadly wedded to the loose set of principles which I imagine Ed Miliband to represent, though he forces us to guess, I’ve looked on in dismay as he’s given an oscillating and lucky Prime Minister a free ride. Cameron’s still learning on the job, trying to work out what he’s for and why, beyond a sense of entitlement cultivated under the dreaming spires, a Conservative government should be elected next time around.

It’s precisely when the PM is at his most uncertain that he’s most vulnerable and yet Labour can’t land a punch on him, because Ed, bred to replace his brother if the worst happened, but on the understanding that David would have reshaped the party by that point and possibly even become Prime Minister, wasn’t ready and despite all my good advice, doesn’t seem to know what to do.

The Enemy Within

David Cameron may be the knife in Ed Miliband’s guts but he has a bigger problem in possession of sharper knives, Ed Balls. When Leviathan’s Sedition Unit got wind of “Little Brother”, everyone agreed that their man needed to meet the challenge Ed on.

Of course, they argued, Brown would become Prime Minister; no force on Earth could stop it, and once installed, his vision, indefatigability, work ethnic and intellect, would destroy any challengers, not least David Miliband, and guarantee decades of uninterrupted and indestructible Brown hegemony.

However, Brown’s team were cautious. Their man may go blind, that was a real risk, and as a Scotsman his health could desert him at any moment. On the morning of John Smith’s death, the leader had completed a lifestyle questionnaire that predicted he’d live to be 92. Brown needed an heir.

In secret Gordon’s Gauleiters, his regional office overlords responsible for keeping their ear to the ground in pubs and clubs around the country, and noting down the concerns of the common man, were ordered to recruit scientists from nearby universities that could replicate the achievements of the PM’s team. Within six months, a DNA sample from Brown’s scrotum was being employed in homage to Mary Shelley. The result was to be Ed Balls.

The designation Ed was a no brainer. Everyone understood that Miliband’s understudy had been given the title ‘Executive Drone’ and so Brown’s would have it too. Brown, it was believed, would benefit less from the familial association promoted by Miliband’s people. The decision was therefore taken to make his spare an “intellectual acolyte” of the chancellor, named in reference to the source of the original DNA sample.

Balls, it was argued, would be a stronger replacement candidate than Miliband’s ED, because unlike “Little Brother”, he’d aspire to the premiership having been inspired by the intellectual arguments posited by his predecessor. Not for Ed Balls the whiff of nepotism, oh no, he’d be a proxy for the nation, a man who’d become a convert to the cult of Gordon Brown and now wanted to follow that example, taking the former leader’s ideas to new and illustrious heights.

Brown’s scientists agreed that Balls, in order to succeed, would need to be imbued with all his master’s aggression and perfidiousness. Lofty ideals and warm hugs in the tearoom were fine for Blair’s guileless troupe, but Balls would need something more; he, like Brown, would bully his colleagues into believing there was no alternative.

Like Ed Miliband, Balls was ready to be installed in time for the 2005 election. Though the stronger of the two, as Brownian scientists predicted, it was the collapse of the former Premier’s leadership and an association with its unpopular handling of the economy that handicapped Balls’ chances in the ensuing leadership contest.

Now, due to circumstances that confounded the predictions of both camps, Balls sits on the front bench as the understudy to his enemy’s creature. Leaked correspondence between Balls and Brown has confirmed what anyone with any connection to Westminster already knew, that Balls is an insidious wretch who, thanks to his genetic programming, need never sleep and so can spend all his time plotting to purge the last vestiges of Blairism from the British body politic.

Ed Miliband must know that two red eyes are now watching him from the darkness. His every move is under scrutiny, his every word pulled apart, and the individual letters stretched and broken. David Miliband wants his creature to fail so he can get back on plan and take over, but Brown’s people will not be beaten so easily. The country may despise them and their polices but Balls is still in play. Eyes narrowed and thin lips upturned, he’s waiting for his moment to strike, enjoying Little Brother’s discomfort and incoherence. If David Miliband wants to be Labour Leader, as the good Blair intended, then there’s only one thing to be done.

Ed Balls must be destroyed.

More Miliband:

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