Having swept the Conservative party off her feet, bedded her and taken her away for a rather wonderful honeymoon, David Cameron has begun to choose the furniture for the marital home. Some of the party were expecting a trip in the Rolls to Sotheby's auction rooms. So when Mr Cameron took the tube to Habitat and brought back some wacky lampshades and a table just like the one next door, they were not best pleased.
Mr Cameron's declared arch-enemy is Simon Heffer, a Telegraph columnist and possibly the next editor of the Spectator. Heffer didn't support Mr Cameron in the first place, and he is taking some pleasure from pointing out to fellow rightwingers that his fears were utterly justified. The man, he fumed yesterday, is wrenching the party to the left, and he will pay for it.
If Heffer were growling alone in a corner, Mr Cameron would be delighted. Who wants to be associated with pompous rightwingers? But in the past few days the Times and the Telegraph have made it clear that his youth and vigour are no longer enough to keep them happy.
A speech yesterday in which he stressed that the NHS should remain free for everyone went down particularly badly, even though Mr Cameron made it clear he wanted the private sector to become more involved in the health service. He "ruled out a great many options for the future of healthcare in Britain that were, at the very least, worth considering," complained the Telegraph today. The Times called his attack on WHSmith for its two-for-one offer on Chocolate Oranges "trite". The FT warned him not to alienate business and David Green of the rightwing Civitas thinktank accused him of closing down debate.
The Conservative press has had a long and enjoyable wrangle over policy since Michael Howard announced his intention to step down in May, and they are starting to miss it. Some are also embarrassed that, like party activists, they fell so abruptly in love with Mr Cameron. But it is too late now. The Tories are not about to seek a divorce, and most of them know that they will have to sit back, put up with the nasty new sofa and let Mr Cameron ingratiate himself with the neighbours.
