Danny Alexander: we won't spend a penny more

Uneasy cabinet minister denies plans for an extra £5bn of capital spending.

With everyone from George Osborne downwards now acknowledging that growth this year will be weaker-than-expected, an argument has restarted in government about how best to stimulate the economy. Last night, the BBC's Nick Robinson reported that some cabinet ministers were agitating for an extra £5bn in capital spending, to be channelled towards the nation's roads, rail and broadband internet.

Naturally, Robinson didn't name names, but I draw your attention to comments made by Chris Huhne at a fringe event at the Lib Dem conference on Monday night. "Remember ... the target that we have is the structural current balance," the Energy Secretary said. "It is current not capital spending. That is an important distinction." In other words, the government could ramp up capital spending without breaching its fiscal mandate: to eliminate the structural deficit (the part of the deficit that remains even once when the economy has returned to normal growth) and to ensure a falling debt-to-GDP ratio by the end of the parliament. Huhne has since insisted that he doesn't recognise the £5bn figure and that there is "no such plan". As the great Claud Cockburn once quipped, "never believe anything until has been officially denied".

Whoever the culprit was (and Vince Cable uttered the s-word - stimulus - several times in his speech), they were swiftly squashed by the Treasury. "We have our spending plans and we are sticking to them," a spokesman said.

Appearing on the Today programme this morning, an uneasy sounding Danny Alexander stuck to the script. The government would "strain every sinew" to promote growth but it would not spend a penny more then the limits set out in the Spending Review. "We have set out plans on capital spending, we're going to stick to those plans across the board on spending," the Chief Secretary to the Treasury said. He added: "I just don't recognise the numbers involved or the process as described."

It was Chris Huhne who previously suggested that the cuts could be scaled back in the event of a serious downturn, and who declared that he was not "lashed to the mast" of deficit reduction. But Alexander certainly is. As growth continues to fall and unemployment continues to rise, this is one argument that will not go away.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war