Fashion models shape up badly against female athletes: but why compare them?

They never said they were role models.

At some point in the closing ceremony last night they brought out the fashion models, and the internet exploded.

Well I disagree - they're not bad role models. They're not role models. They never said they were role models. They're just people who sell clothes. Shona Robison and co are giving the fashion industry far too much credit - as though it represents some cultural zenith. People who are good at sport, or indeed have any particular talent, don't generally become models. In fact these girls used to be known as "mannequins": a term which puts the job much more succinctly in its place. 

This is one reason why the show America's Next Top Model is such a farce - because you really don't have to put people through competitive "heats" to judge how good they look in a dress. A more realistic formula (and with more bitchy fun) would be a series of rounds trialling the girls for alternative careers, and seeing which of them still have to be models. You're not qualified to be a doctor, you're too slow to be an athlete, you're not good enough at maths to be an accountant: congratulations, you're still in the running to becoming America's Next Top Model!

We should all stop putting the fashion industry on a pedestal, then bullying it for not deserving to be there. Even if the fashion industry did bulk up its models - using healthy looking, muscular women - as a post-Olympic hoard are urging it to do, everyone has to face up to the fact that walking up and down looking cross is never going to be a particularly inspiring career. Leave Kate Moss and co alone! They look miserable enough as it is.

Lily Cole, Kate Moss etc at the closing ceremony. Photograph: Getty Images

Martha Gill writes the weekly Irrational Animals column. You can follow her on Twitter here: @Martha_Gill.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.