The rise of little big man

5ft nothing, rotund, and bespectacled with a West of Scotland accent. Not for him - a man who first tasted Labour politics from his mother's milk - any New Labour makeover. Indeed, he will tell you that Labour's style guru, MP Barbara Follett, his ''very good friend'', has been ''more McCartneyised'' than he has ever been ''Follettised''.

He would go as far as to say his diminutive size is a useful negotiating tool. ''It is always best to be under-

estimated by your political opponents. By the time they have woken up they have usually lost the plot.''

It is a mistake sometimes made too by his detractors among colleagues on the Government benches who are often more impressed with appearance and academe than McCartney's consummate political skill and ability.

He is a man of catholic tastes. He supports Kilmarnock and Scotland, dearly loves his family, including his five grandchildren, Scotland, and all things Scottish.

The Prime Minister thinks he is extremely clever, straight, decent, has his heart in the right place, has done a good job, and is not a posturer. He will not be facing demotion.

The cynical among his colleagues believe he was an inspired choice to ''sell out the trade unions''. The alternative view, and the view more commonly held, is that there were few who could have so skilfully negotiated the deal which was unveiled today.

McCartney has had a testing year since the General Election, handling a complex and disparate portfolio - employment law, inward investment, and company law - but his enthusiasm for office has not waned.

He says: ''I have enjoyed this year. At first I couldn't stop smiling - I thought I would have to have the smile surgically removed. It's hard work, but I am still smiling.''

More than any other politician, with perhaps the exception of the Prime Minister, McCartney is responsible for the Government's White Paper on Fairness at Work.

The negotiations between Downing Street, the Confederation of British Industry, and the Trades Union Congress have been tortuous. Often it seemed the differences were irreconcilable but time and tenacity prevailed and now McCartney believes they have thrashed out an agreement which

for the first time should guarantee fairness in the workplace for everyone.

He defends the lengthy negotiations. ''They were fruitful. Difficult is the wrong word. No-one has ever sat down with all the stakeholders in the workplace and put the shibboleths aside. It was worth all the discussion. We

have broken out of the vicious circle of us and them.''

McCartney might have been the ideal choice to broker a deal for the unions which may fall short of their exact demands.

Of Irish extraction, he was steeped in Labour party politics from an early age, and is the fourth generation of Labour activists - his father, Hugh McCartney, was a West of Scotland Labour MP throughout the seventies and the early eighties.

On his 15th birthday his grand-

mother gave him a co-op dividend #1 share book from the Kirkintilloch and District Co-op Society. He says:

''We were really political but my parents didn't try to indoctrinate us.''

He left Lenzie Academy at 15 ''under a bit of a cloud'' without any qualifications or school prizes - he recalls without bitterness his exclusion from the school prize giving with all the others who had not won a prize.

His moment came when he returned to the school to present the prizes after John Smith made him Labour's front bench spokesman on health - he was being very discreet but suffice to say he noticed the system had not changed. He took his chance to mention the pupils who had been left outside the room.

It was his sojourn in the merchant navy which made him a socialist. ''I went to the Third World and saw poverty which was indescribable. I came back home all fired up to do something about it.''

He was a moderniser before his time. He was threatened with disciplinary action for calling for a

national policy forum in the Labour Party to replace the general committee. He is a committed trade unionist who believes the trade unions have wasted too many opportunities.

''For too long the trade unions blamed Thatcher, when in truth fundamental rethinking should have been going on. They never adapted to the markets, there was no strategy to deal with new industries or agency work-ers. They should have always been there to represent workers wherever they were working.''

He has never been bound by ideological baggage. When he was a Wigan councillor in the eighties he was determined to demonstrate that there was much more to Wigan than Orwell's version of ''cloth cap and clogs''. According to a former council colleague, McCartney battled to put in place a long-term strategy to tackle the social and economic consequences of high unemployment and the loss of the manufacturing base.

He backed public and private partnerships, set up a development company, established a 1p rate for venture companies. ''We decided what services should be on offer and then we decided how they should be delivered. It was not good enough just to say the services were publicly funded. They had to be good.''

He refuses to be labelled. ''I hate being put in boxes. I've had to think a lot about my politics over the past 20 years. My basic principles have never changed. I know exactly where I stand. I am in politics to get things done. I have a practical edge. I would rather do than dream.''

Despite and because of his background, he prob-ably was the ideal choice to broker the deal between the TUC and the CBI and the policy wonks who would like to distance the Government from the trade union movement. ''I was pleased to do it. It was a challenge. I never felt vulnerable. I am transparent and everyone knows exactly where I stand.''

His self-imposed exile in England and his scouser wife, Ann, have in no way diminished his love for Scotland, and things Scottish. ''I love Scotland and my my family dearly. I always support Scotland. My background and my accent are hugely important to me and help with the bad times.''

McCartney has had his share of those bad times. He was divorced, mugged twice, thrown off a train, and almost killed by thugs after he tried to sort out corrupt bouncers.

''You have a choice,'' he says. ''you can walk away or stay and fight for your constituents. Every time they put

another wreath on my doorstep I was more determined to see them off.''

The incident which shook him most of all was one of those awful coincidences. In his capacity as health spokesman he was seeing for himself how the London Ambulance Service worked - it was May 1994. His first task of the day was shadowing the telephonist, the first call that he took was the call-out for an ambulance for John Smith.

He says: ''It was awful. My dad had been with him the day before. I knew what was happening all the time and I felt I was intruding in this terrible, terrible tragedy. I was in a daze and sat in a room on my own for 40 minutes then they let me phone my dad. When they let me out I bumped into Harriet Harman and Tessa Jowell and I burst into tears.''

Later Mccartney wrote his feelings down and sent them to Lady Smith, and that, he said, helped him recover. ''It was times like these,'' he says, ''you turned to your family. Their support will take you through a crisis.''

Will he be reshuffled? He does not know and says he cares less. ''I never know and I have never lost a second's sleep worrying about it. That is not why I came into politics.''