So which English cities are actually getting devolution deals?

Steve Roteram and Andy Burnham, Labour's candidates for mayors of the Liverpool and Manchester city regions. Image: Getty.

This May, an indeterminate number of English cities, city regions and other combined authorities will elect their first metro mayors.

These mayors won’t be powerful local bosses on the American or European model – but like London’s Sadiq Khan, they will be able to promote their region, and will have a hand in tricky things like local infrastructure development. It’s quite possibly the biggest change to English municipal government in 40 years or so.

You might think then, that, four months out, we’d be able to tell you exactly how many of these new mayors there were going to be, and which cities they’d be representing. You would be wrong: while the government has been very enthusiastic in putting out press releases every time a deal is agreed, it’s tended to be less forthcoming when, with distressing frequency, they’ve collapsed once again.

But the clock is ticking, so – with a little help from Ed Clarke at the Centre for Cities – we decided it was time we started keeping track of what was going on. This week, we’re doing our best to answer an unexpectedly difficult question: which areas are actually getting mayors?

Absolutely probably definitely

First up, there are three big conurbations that are all but certain to hold elections this May.

Greater Manchester is by far the most coherent city region in England outside Greater London. Its 10 boroughs are used to working together and so, with a little help from former chancellor George Osborne, it has the most advanced and powerful deal. (At some points over the last couple of years, in fact, it’s looked plausible it might be the only deal.)

Most of the major parties have now picked their candidates for this one. The runaway favourite must be Labour’s Andy Burnham: Manchester is traditionally a left-leaning area, and Burnham is a much bigger figure than the Tory candidate, Trafford’s 29 year old leader Sean Anstee. That said, if I were forced to name a party and a politician capable of losing an apparently guaranteed election, “Labour, Andy Burnham” would be near the top of the list.

More certain in electoral terms is the Liverpool City Region (the five boroughs that once made up Merseyside, plus Halton, from Cheshire). That area is so red it would be mind-blowing if Labour's Steve Rotheram didn’t win this one.

The more interesting political tension here is actually likely to be between Rotheram as metro mayor and Joe Anderson, the existing Labour mayor of Liverpool, who failed to get the party’s nomination for the region-wide job (either because he’s not left-wing enough, or because the outer boroughs didn’t want someone from Liverpool-proper). In theory, the metro mayor is the bigger job. But at least some the power in these roles comes from their bully-pulpit function, and “mayor of Liverpool” is frankly the much better job title. This’ll be fun to watch, is what I’m saying here.

Last but not least there’s the West Midlands deal (call it Greater Birmingham at your peril). This covers the old metropolitan county: the three cities of Birmingham, Wolverhampton and Coventry, plus four other suburban boroughs.

Electorally this will be by far the most interesting, as it genuinely could go either way. Labour’s Siôn Simon is facing Andy Street, the Conservative former boss of John Lewis – and because the Tories might actually win, the government is likely to throw everything at it. Were I betting man, my money would be on Street. We’ll see.


Definitely maybe

Then there are three deals that are receiving much less attention, because the areas they cover are smaller, and so the candidates are likely to be more obscure.

The Tees Valley – Middlesbrough, Hartlepool and so forth. This lot used to be the made-up county of Cleveland, make up a pretty coherent region, and the deal is probably going ahead.

Then there’s the West of England deal: Bristol, Bath and South Gloucestershire. Like the Tees Valley one this was once a non-traditional county (Avon), but it’s lost a bit: North Somerset, which dropped out last summer. The deal will probably go ahead, but the fact not all the Avon councils wanted to play suggests a measure of fragility, as well as the tension between a Labour-voting city and its Conservative commuter belt.

Lastly there’s an area which isn’t a city region at all: Peterborough & Cambridgeshire. Despite talk, this is the only non-metropolitan region likely to get a mayor. That means it’s the only one that’s almost certain to elect a Tory next May.

There’s no reason to think these deals won’t happen – except that sometimes deals collapse over local issues that the rest of us aren’t really aware of until the last minute. Also, because they’re less visible, there’s less momentum: it’s hard to imagine the government abandoning the Liverpool deal at this point; it’s quite plausible it could abandon the Bristol and Bath one.

Even if they do go ahead, these mayors are likely to be less influential figures than those of the big city regions, in terms of both their legal powers, and their effective influence.

The big question mark

There’s one area where it’s genuinely hard to tell what’s happening. The Sheffield City Region was one of the first deals to get a green light, probably because of the support of then deputy prime minister Nick Clegg.

But it’s remained fairly tormented ever since. The deal at one stage involved councils from three counties (South Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire), so there was a row over how the financing would work. Many of the regions’ politicians demanded the extra powers and funding on offer without bothering to elect a mayor, which delayed things, further. And, inevitably there’s the “thou shalt not divide Yorkshire” lobby mucking things up, too.

At any rate, we’re four months out, and it’s not clear if the region is even getting a mayor, or who would run in the election if it did. The smart money has to be on no deal, but who knows.

Never gonna happen – or at least, not this year

And finally, a brief list of the fallen.

The North East – Big regional deal, collapsed after those councils south of the Tyne pulled out because they didn’t want a mayor. It briefly looked like there would be a north-bank-only deal, until someone realised that a metropolitan authority that included Newcastle but not Gateshead would be stupid, and the whole thing went away.

Greater Lincolnshire - “Dead, buried and will not be resurrected”, according to one local big wig.

Norfolk & Suffolk - Died after half a dozen councils pulled out.

D2N2 – Derbyshire/Derby/Notthinghamshire/Nottingham. This one’s gone suspiciously quiet but seems unlikely to happen.

Yorkshire – The demand from rural Tories for a Yorkshire-wide deal probably killed off any chance of a Leeds City Region, and may have ultimately helped finish off Sheffield too. Nonetheless, there doesn’t look likely to be a Yorkshire deal any time soon either, so well done there.

That, best we can tell, is where things stand – but, as I said at the top of this thing, there’s surprisingly little transparency surrounding this entire process. If you know better, honk.

Thanks to Ed Clarke, the Centre for Cities and the good people of Twitter for their help on this.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter, far too much, as @jonnelledge.

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Where exactly are the Wombles named after? We made a map

The Wombles playing Glastonbury in 2011. This isn't one of our joke captions, it's a genuine description of what the picture shows. Image: Getty.

 The Wombles may famously be ‘of’ Wimbledon Common, but each Womble is also connected to somewhere else in the world, by their names.

Creator Elizabeth Beresford named almost all of the Wombles after places: hence Great Uncle Bulgaria, Orinoco (as in the river), Tobermory (as in the town in the Hebrides) and so forth.

And so, we’ve put all the ones we could find on an interactive map:

The blue pins are the main characters, the yellow ones appear only in the books, and the green ones appear only in TV or film adaptations. 

The particular derivation of Womble names is not always obvious - Hoboken, an American womble is, confusingly, named not for the New Jersey city of Hoboken, but for the Antwerp district from which it borrowed its name. Wellington is named not for New Zealand’s capital, but for Wellington School in Somerset, which Beresford’s nephew attended. And some Womble names that don’t sound like places names actually are: Bungo derives from Japan’s historical Bungo Province, now called Ōita Prefecture.

The reasoning behind all this, according to Wombles canon, is that a Womble does not get a name until they have come of age, at which point they pick one they like the sound of from an old atlas belonging to Great Uncle Bulgaria. (Of the variety of things I’ve seen “left behind” on Wimbledon Common I’ve never come across an atlas, but artistic licence and all that.)

There are apparently some exceptions to this Womble naming rule: Stepney, an East London womble added in the ‘90s, picked his name from a London A-Z. Livingstone, a hot air ballooning womble, is so old he forgot his original name and borrowed that of the explorer Dr Livingstone. And there’s also a Cousin Botany. Who is named after botany. Because he does botany. Obviously.

Chief musical Wombleteer Mike Batt has apparently been working on a computer-animated Womble revival for the last few years, but he hasn’t yet revealed whether we can expect to see any new Wombles with hip modern names like “Silicon Valley”, “Midtown” or “Garden Bridge”.


To find your Womble name, tweet the name of a place you’ve found in an old atlas, followed by your credit card details.

Ed Jefferson works for the internet and tweets as @edjeff.

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