The word has gone out from Corbyn’s Lubyanka: Get Tom Watson

LAST week the former Labour minister Michael Dugher popped into the Strangers’ bar of the House of Commons for a drink with me and a few of his friends. We were an eclectic ensemble, including former Undertones lead singer Feargal Sharkey, a couple of peers of the realm, some researchers and Labour deputy leader Tom Watson. And we were all under surveillance. ‘Watch yourself, Austin Powers is eyeballing us,’ one of our number warned me.

‘Austin Powers’ is the nickname for a Corbynite MP’s aide who runs an unofficial spying operation targeting his boss’s parliamentary colleagues.

Sure enough, the next day a Corbyn-supporting fake news website angrily demanded an explanation for Watson’s perceived duplicity in keeping company with members of the mainstream media.

As Labour gathers this morning for the start of its annual conference in Liverpool, it’s a party on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

The euphoria of last year’s Election campaign has gone, replaced by a vicious climate of suspicion, paranoia and betrayal.

Corbyn – unable to extricate himself from the putrid, anti-Semitic hole he dug for himself over the summer – sees his dreams of power again slipping through his fingers.

Rumours are circling of splits, fresh leadership challenges and even a palace coup lead by his closest ally John McDonnell. As a result, the word has gone out from deep within the bowels of the Corbynite Lubyanka – ‘Get Tom Watson’.

According to one Watson ally: ‘They really detest him. He’s everything they hate. He’s a white, northern, working- cl ass man f rom Labour’s “old Right”, who’s in favour of Nato and nuclear deterrence.’ Another says: ‘In the leader’s office and Labour HQ the Corbynites all call him “Twitson”’.

Biographical and childish antipathy aside, there are hard political reasons why Corbyn has always feared his deputy leader.

Watson’s landslide victory in the electoral contest for t he post handed him a mandate from party members rivalling Corbyn’s own. His time in the trade union movement meant he enjoyed his own close and independent relationship with Labour’s key powerbrokers. And his leading role in the removal of Tony Blair was seen as a portent of future disloyalty.

‘When Seumas Milne [Corbyn’s director of communications] was first appointed, he came over in his very first week to Tom’s office and gave him a lecture on how he had to be more outspoken in support of Jeremy,’ an MP tells me. Unfortunately, in the eyes of Corbyn’s inner-circle, that support has not been forthcoming. Hence their decision to act.

This week has been ringed in Corbyn’s diary as the time for Tom Watson’s defenestration.

First, a series of small but significant changes to party rules are proposed that would massively curtail Watson’s powers in the event of a temporary or permanent leadership vacancy.

THEN Corbyn hopes to drive through the introduction of a second deputy leadership position – reserved for a woman – to further dilute Watson’s position.

Finally, a coup-de-grace i s planned: the amendment to Labour selection rules that would pave the way for Watson’s removal and that of other MPs accused of treachery against the people.

Watson has allies on the party’s National Executive Committee, and they are planning a stout rear-guard action in his defence. ‘But we think Corbyn’s probably got the numbers to get these changes through,’ one conceded. Not everyone in Cor- byn’s circle supports such an overt and brutal assault.

John McDonnell has argued that Watson should be courted, rather than politically eviscerated, and has personally attempted to cultivate a closer working relationship between the two men. But Corbyn’s team have decided the time has come to move against him.

‘All this talk of a new party is messing with their heads,’ an MP explains. ‘They think it’s going to happen, and they think Watson might be considering joining it, or even leading it. They want him dead.’ To be fair, they are not alone in ruminating about Watson’s role in any breakaway. ‘If Tom became part of a split, that would dramatically change things,’ one shadow minister told me. ‘ Instead of a dozen MPs, Tom could probably bring across 40 or 50. Maybe even some of the unions as well.’

I’m also told potential financial bankers have drawn up a list of possible leaders for a new party, with Watson’s name appearing close to the top.

For his part, Watson continues to tell friends he still believes his party can be saved. On the question of loyalty, his allies point to last year’s conference where he broke into a very public – and humiliating – chorus of ‘Oh, Jeremy Corbyn!’

‘Tom thinks there is still a chance we could pull things back,’ says a political friend. ‘If we could get some movement on foreign affairs and defence, possibly do some sort of deal with McDonnell over his economic strategy, then even at the 11th hour we could turn things around.’ But another hints Watson’s patience is not infinite: ‘Jeremy’s speech is very important. We need a sign there’s still a party worth saving.’

There is not. As this week in Liverpool will prove, nothing can save Tom Watson, or his colleagues, from the fate that ultimately awaits them.

So this morning Tom Watson, along with every other Labour MP, has a choice. He can sit meekly and await his turn on the tumbril – for the moment the cameras of Iran’s Press TV arrive in a crowded Sandwell community centre, on a cold, dark Thursday evening, to record his ritual decapitation. Or he can stand and confront his pursuers.

‘They’re going to get him eventually,’ a back-bench colleague tells me, ‘and deep down Tom knows it. He’s t ri ed t o keep t he party together, and he’s failed.’

He has. Now it’s time for Tom Watson to fight and fight and fight again to end the misery of the party he loves.

I’M TOLD that Foreign Office officials are having to embrace a tough regime introduced by new boss Jeremy Hunt. ‘Everything is being run much more professionally,’ an insider says. ‘Briefings are more detailed, working hours are longer, everything is much tighter and more disciplined.’ I’m told this is a legacy from Hunt’s days at the Department of Health. A colleague explains to me: ‘When you run a front line service delivery department, everything has to be properly organised. You can’t just wing it like some people.’ Who could they mean?