Blog Posts by Alex Stevenson

A privileged education and a past in the oil business: is the Church of England about to pick one of its self-confessed "thicker bishops" as the Archbishop of Canterbury?

Justin Welby has only been the Bishop of Durham for 12 months, but is already being been named by national newspapers as the man the Crown Nominations Commission is likely to recommend to No 10.

The choice will be a major departure for the world's 77 million Anglicans, given his strong commitment to evangelicalism. His last tweet, from November 3rd, stated: "Durham Diocesan Synod unanimously approves long term programme of evangelism. sharing the news of the love Christ gives us". Such forthright enthusiasm can produce a wrinkled nose from many in the Church. Will Welby really be a unifying figure?

His rise in the Church has been meteoric — oddly so. Welby was dean of Liverpool before being enthroned in Durham last November, having impressed with his financial management skills on Merseyside. Still, the rapidity of

The double-dip recession is officially over - but don't be fooled. Britain's economic misery is far from over.

We've been here before. Three years ago, in the autumn of 2009, figures confirmed that Britain's GDP had crawled back into positive growth after five consecutive quarters of contraction. The sledgehammer of the 2008 financial crisis had smashed Britain's prosperity, but at least the ailing New Labour government had some good news for voters. The economy was no longer shrinking. The long recovery could begin.

It didn't work out so well, did it? After stuttering along with miserable levels of growth - it never got better than the 0.7% seen around the time of the 2010 general election - the much-feared double-dip recession finally became a reality at the end of 2011. The economy continued to shrink throughout the first half of 2012. Now, finally, figures have confirmed a return to growth in July, August and September, when GDP grew by one per cent. We can all breathe a collective

Parliament, like much of the rest of country, is draped in a gloom which goes beyond the miserable weather. Revelations about Jimmy Savile's activities, and the wider culture at the BBC, are triggering anger and dismay across the UK. So the appearance of George Entwistle, 37 days into his job as director-general of the BBC, before the Commons', culture, media and sport committee was an opportunity for MPs to demand answers - and possibly retribution - for the man in charge of an organisation in crisis.

They did not go for the throat - not initially, at least. Instead they seemed in a subdued mood. They appeared saddened, wearied even, by the sheer weight of the allegations the BBC and police officers were having to deal with. The MPs just seemed very, very upset.

Entwistle seemed barely in control. He is not a politician, good at avoiding questions and sticking to lines. He is not even a chief executive, used to wriggling away from questions by awkward shareholders. He is a journalist,

David Cameron's subdued theatricality was a performance worthy of Birmingham's Symphony Hall. As an embattled leader, he pitched the right tone for an embattled country.

For much of the week the Symphony Hall has been an inappropriate place for a party conference, overplaying the performance aspect and relegating the delegates to the role of spectators, not participators. That didn't matter for the leader's speech, which is all about theatre. Cameron was preceded by Seb Coe, peering over his spectacles, and New York's mayor Michael Bloomberg, who listed all the many ways in which he views Cameron as being marvellous. Neither really had the presence, the gravitas, of the British prime minister that addressed the country today.

It's easy to go down the Gaddafi approach and deliver an overblown rant, full of shouting and spittle and finger-jabbing. David Cameron did the precise opposite this lunchtime, with infinitely greater effect. He delivered much of his third leader's speech as prime

Boris Johnson stole the show during the London Olympics 2012. This morning, Conservative prime minister David Cameron had to watch the London mayor dangle the stolen goods at the Tory party conference in Birmingham.

Boris, always a popular figure, has climbed to new heights this week. He was greeted off the train yesterday by a throng of chanting supporters and a scrum of journalists, photographers and cameramen. "It's been a bit of a scrum to get here," Boris told an audience in one of the conference centre's vast halls yesterday evening. 'Typhoon' might be a better word. I saw the media typhoon swirl into the conference centre yesterday evening: anyone who gets sucked into it usually comes to a sticky end. Boris, bemused at the eye of the storm, is newsworthy to the media. To the Tories, he is loved.

"I think I deserve some sort of world record as the biggest harvester of undeserved credit," he said, all modesty, at the rally celebrating the year in which he was both re-elected and

"We have the people at our side, and together we can do it," George Osborne declared to the party faithful in Birmingham. Is he seeing something we're not?

The chancellor's conclusion to his third speech in power was greeted with as much applause from Conservative party members as the last two. Osborne bashed the Labour party, poured sickly praise on his colleagues and offered a staunch defence of the decision to cut the 50p rate in March's disaster-Budget. He did the job. But he did not ignite his audience. One delegate near me actually started snoring until he got a quick jab in the ribs from embarrassed neighbours.

Party conferences are often vulnerable to criticism they are nothing but stage-managed performances, designed as much with the lobbyists and media in mind as party members. That seems especially true of this year's Conservative gathering: the ICC's well-polished atmosphere is well-suited to the smartly-dressed Tory enthusiasts beetling about purposefully. Its Symphony

Photo: AFP/Getty ImagesImagine a world full of Borises and Borisettes. A parliament full of blonde-haired buffoons who mixed classical references with the kind of everyman charm that allows you to blend in seamlessly - in Eton, at least. Imagine a political world where the Boris mould - charmingly indifferent to what is politically correct, happy to expose himself to ridicule, an obvious sense of humour with free brush strokes - is the accepted norm. Those who decide to enter politics assess their ability to inject words like 'wiff-waff' and 'zoink' into everyday discourse. Cheeky, rough-around-the-edges charm, combined with a crackling intellect, are what really count with the voters.

It's not that implausible. These traits all fit in with what we want of our politicians: straightforward, and inspiring popularity with effortless grace. Would the country be in such a bad state if this were the kind of person who governed our country?

Then imagine the unexpected appearance of a rogue in this Garden of foppish

It was as if a loveless couple had finally discovered their passion. Ed Miliband and the Labour party were making up for lost time.

Critics have acknowledged, some more grudgingly than others, that Miliband's 'one nation' address on Tuesdaywas the most significant Labour party leader's speech in many years. Receiving this kind of praise is a novel experience for Miliband. So in yesterday afternoon's question and answer session, he was determined to make the most of it.

The setup was exactly the same set-up as Tuesday's. The same two transparent tables creating an obstacle course for Ed to avoid, the same perhaps excessive number of glasses of water. The only difference was that Ed wasn't wearing a jacket. And there was no pressure. He was completely comfortable - and is now getting used to putting in charming, smiling, polished, impressive performances.

It started with a kiss. Near the beginning, Ed came across a great-grandmother. There was romance in the air. "There's so many