Thirty minutes after launching a startlingly ambitious housing policy for London, Rory Stewart is talking in a sunlit French restaurant just around the corner from his South Kensington home. On the menu is lemon sole for £22 or lobster spaghetti for £28. But he is only drinking a flat white, a faux pas made worse by the flapping of a giant reflective disc being held aloft by Building’s photographer. 

“Scott,” Stewart says, leaning over to an aide, “could you please order yourself some food, because I’m feeling guilty towards the restaurant. And apologise,” he adds, flashing a smile at a passing waiter.

Unfailingly polite, Stewart seems an unlikely candidate to take a hacksaw to the capital’s planning policy. On this bright winter afternoon, a key media day for his London mayoral campaign, he seems almost as concerned with not distracting his fellow diners from their Chablis as he does setting out how he plans to fix London’s chronic housing shortage. 

Read more …