Alan Johnson This Boy Analysis

The British political book that most moved me this year is not a political book at all. Former home secretary, Alan Johnson's This Boy(Bantam) is an often harrowing memoir of his impoverished 1950s childhood at the northern fringe of Notting Hill, which, though not as grand as it is today, still represented two utterly different worlds divided by a few streets.
Alan's dad was a charming wastrel, Steve "Ginger" Johnson, a womanising pub pianist who blew his chance of a musical career and left the chores and cost of raising a family to Lily, his scouser wife. Too poor to accept her 11‑plus place, she worked herself to death in the Rachmanite-slum-landlord mean streets of W10, a place of outside loos and candles, of always being cold and hungry, of hiding from the rent man and getting false teeth because they're cheaper.
That Johnson survived all this to become a cabinet minister able to tell the tale with style and humour – but no glib political conclusions – is thanks to his formidable sister Linda. Just three years older than Alan, she was always the family's adult. When the offer of a council flat came two weeks after their mum's death, Linda had the gall to turn it down (too nasty and damp) while insisting to Mr Pepper, the social worker, that she be allowed to raise Alan. Linda
McBride is clever and hard-working (despite the booze); his book reads like a selective confession to a Catholic priest. He leaked to make Tony Blair look greedy and lazy, to stitch up Gordon's rivals and the Tories too when he had the time, cheerfully rifling the government's policy hamper to further his goals. I thought I knew a lot about this world. I was naive, but remain grateful for my ignorance. McBride debauched the system because he believed Brown would be a great PM. As usual, alas, the feral press emerges badly from his