The title here is not so much comment on his career subsequent to his resignation as an MP just prior to the 2019 general election (and when his seat went to the Tories) as a reference to the conscious battle against weight gain which Tom ‘Two Dinners’ Watson engaged in subsequent to a diagnosis of Type 2 diabetes in 2015. It’s an engaging and easy-read account of a typically resolute and determined (though not without a recent setback) fight to cut down on the intake of sugars and processed foods which contributed in a major way to his obesity and to real fears for his health.
His chosen vehicle for this – despite the pull quote on the cover from Michael Mosley, who is more associated with a (very) low calorie intake and a balanced, Mediterranean-style diet – was the ‘keto’ diet, a controversial way to weight loss via replacing all carbohydrates with fats and proteins, allied to ‘bulletproof coffee’ (whose origins Watson is careful to attribute correctly) and an exercise regime. Watson correctly asserts that everyone is different and that he can only report on what worked for him – and it clearly did: losing eight out of nearly 23 stones does indeed leave him a shadow of his former self and on this Watson should be congratulated, alongside his account of the resulting improvements which he has experienced in terms of his concentration, fatigue and responsiveness.
For all the easy-to-consume nature of the writing style, the tone is evangelical, proselytising even, in connection with the benefits of the keto diet (and, let’s not forget, the associated exercise regime which has him doing workouts in a park, attending a gym and, eventually, cycling, hill walking, kayaking and running) which can, at times, read a little like the script of a committed, and now enthusiastically clean, convert. Well, he is one such, of course. But a keto diet clearly works for others, too; and Watson is no doubt right that doctors need better guidance (and training) in recommending weight loss programmes which focus on individual needs and which puts ‘one size fits all’ programmes completely to one side. Personally I’m not convinced that a ‘hit list’ of ‘banned’ foods is a healthy way of improving our relationship with food and, as a committed beer drinker (and bread maker), neither do I think that carbs are ‘the enemy’. I also worry that a diet high in fats – for all the admirable desire to save the NHS from vast amounts of spending on the health problems which are related to obesity – is building up future health problems (and therefore spending) of its own. But then, I’m not really the core audience for Downsizing; I’ve always been blessed with a fast-acting metabolism and I’ve never been a fan of sugary fizzy drinks, takeaways and convenience food. Neither, it seems, do I have a particularly addictive personality. But, it seems, diet is one of those areas which absolutely commends itself to subjectivism and there is, therefore, little point in me substituting my views for those of others. If it works, it works (and we need to take the long-term into account in judging that) – and fair play, too.
This is not a political memoir – Watson provides little comment on any of the developments in UK politics since 2015 other than in how they form the general background to his desire to lose weight and in his achievements in doing so; and he throws few bones to those searching for political comment about his relationship with the Labour Party and specifically with Jeremy Corbyn. For the truly committed he does, however, contribute an amusing anecdote about a remark thrown his way by a member of the public who spies him engaged in early morning boxing sessions in a public park; while Len McCluskey, now retired as leader of Unison, is on the end of a laugh-out-loud line which references his negotiating style.
For all that the book focuses on Watson’s weight loss, this is not a diet book and it does, for the whole of its final one-third, address some of the core related policy issues to obesity and public health spending. As you might imagine, Watson – and his (uncredited, though not unacknowledged) co-writer – is very good on the policy stuff around the food lobbying industry and in his attempts to get particularly the manufacturers of high-sugar foods (‘Big Sugar’) – Kellogg’s, Coca-Cola, Pepsico and Unilever come in for special mentions here – to pay a share via a ‘sugar tax’ of the costs of the addictions that their foods and beverages have created in people; and to prevent high-budget branding and marketing programmes from such companies not least when they are targeted at children. There are some powerful vested interests here and Watson deserves credit for taking them on, not least in a ‘naming and shaming’ style in a book of this type. He is also very good at seeking to ally trade union principles to the cause of giving the millions of people in the UK with Type 2 diabetes a voice in his desire to achieve his earnest goal of ‘remission for all’.
And yet, for all the desire for a policy-related outcome to the problems of diet and sugar addiction in particular, and for all the desire to give leadership to people who do absolutely need a voice when faced with the necessarily isolating circumstances to which shame (of weakness, of body image and of fault) is a major contributor, Watson’s decision to step down from parliament in 2019 necessarily reduced his influence over policy and his potential to provide people with that voice. Downsizing, indeed.
There are few clues here as to what led Watson – still not yet 55 – to resign his seat and, apparently, his political career. It’s not as though as he has given up interest in policy development: he currently chairs UK Music which is engaged with the righteous battle to #FixStreaming; and, while his website might currently suggest he is short of a role or two other than in podcasting, a lot of that might well be explained by the arrival of Covid-19 which has had a lot of us on hiatus for much of the intervening time since the back end of 2019. Scrutinising Downsizing for a few between-the-lines clues, I suspect the decision to retire from being an MP has much to do with a quite literal desire to ‘spend more time with his family’ – that curse of politicians – as well as the more evident fearful, personal recognition that a stressful role in frontline representative politics is likely to have played a major role in robbing him of his health as it did with his friend, Labour leader John Smith, before him; and, perhaps, of robbing him of his relationships.
Who knows what the future holds for Watson – and that no doubt includes Watson himself. But I ‘wouldn’t rule out a return’ to party politics once he has satisfied himself that his weight is fully under his own control and once his children, quite naturally, are happy to be spending a little less time with their Dad. ‘Big Sugar’ still needs controlling – and that may well need to be driven by someone whose considerable energies are no longer fuelled, as they once were, by its products.