All sides are anxious about this Budget

"In this country we have to look upon budget promises as made of the same stuff as lover's oaths." So said Lord Salisbury, three times Conservative PM, and his words are perhaps more apt than ever given that all the love drained out of the coalition's marriage some time ago. We need to sift carefully before being sure about what today really means.

As with all Budgets we should start this process by asking what impact it will have on the overall economy, who wins and loses, and what it will mean for the political strategies of different parties.

In terms of macroeconomics this budget was always going to be a non-event. It is broadly fiscally neutral, with only very minor upward ticks to growth forecasts. None of this is a surprise: this chancellor was always going to ignore those calling for more stimulus. This Budget, like all the others this Parliament, lives in the shadow of the choices made in the emergency Budget in June 2010 and subsequent spending review.

When it comes to the distributional effects, today will leave a mark, though in many ways a smaller one than other recent budgets. Politics between now and the Sunday papers will be all about trying to establish the narrative that sticks about who has won and lost.

Osborne's central claim is that the "bulk" of support on offer will go to low to middle income Britain. Yet it's very clear that 70 per cent of the gains from the hike in personal allowances - the key Budget measure - goes to the top half of the income distribution. The choice he made was to spread a small tax cut thinly to all individuals earning from £8,000 to over £100,000 - though it should be pointed out that, against expectations, the majority of the gains will be restricted to basic rate tax payers. And it's true that the increase in allowances is a less regressive way of cutting taxes than others. But that doesn't make it a good use of limited resources - it could have been better spent reversing the impending swinging cuts to tax credits for low-income working families.

Perhaps the best that can be said is that, unlike its predecessors, in this budget there has been no further assault on low income working families (though Osborne did put down a clear marker for a further £10bn of welfare cuts by 2016, which will make the 2014 spending review a complete quagmire for the Lib Dems) in order to pay for a thinly spread giveaway which disproportionately benefits better off households.

The party politics that result from today are hard to call. It's clear that all sides can claim some grounds for feeling upbeat about what the Budget will mean for them in the short term; yet in private each concedes that it is likely to expose an underlying vulnerability. The Lib Dems made the first move in the budget negotiations and will strongly assert the move to a personal allowance of over £9,000 surpasses expectations, vindicates their open source negotiating strategy, and demonstrates they are achieving results in government. The tax avoidance measures and hike in high end Stamp Duty will help placate their activists even if they remain grumpy about the cheapness with which Clegg conceded the 50p rate.

It certainly is good news for the Lib Dems that in raising the personal allowances they have alighted upon a popular flagship policy that Osborne feels the need to back. The bad news is that it appears to be a policy that isn't doing them any good electorally, which in part reflects the fact that very few voters seem to realise it belongs to them (a view borne out in focus groups). For all Clegg's persistence in talking about it, and despite the entire media class thinking it is very clearly his policy, it seems the public has yet to reach the same view. The risk for Clegg is that the budget makes clear that even when he manages to win, he still loses.

For their part Cameron and Osborne will think they have pulled off satisfying the rightwing of their party whilst binding in the Liberal Democrats, and steering Labour onto the ground of protest about unfairness rather than building up its credentials as an alternative government in waiting.

They will be pleased they have reduced the number affected by their Child Benefit horlicks (even if the price of this is horrendous complexity in the tax system) and have killed off calls for a new property tax in this Parliament - though I suspect right now they are starting to think they may have badly misjudged the reaction on pensioner allowances. And by taking the decision to tackle the 50p issue now in mid-term they will feel they've detonated a potentially explosive problem at a safe distance from the general election.

Yet for all their confidence there is no escaping the central fact that the Conservatives have acted very casually in relation to one of their biggest electoral weaknesses. The decision on the 50p tax is a further nail in the coffin of Cameron's original modernising agenda and it comes hot on the heels of the NHS debacle. However loudly they shout about taxing the rich over the next few days it will still be the case that in a few weeks time no one will recall a single anti-avoidance measure but many will remember the tax cut for the rich at a time when spending cuts for the rest are biting.

As well as affecting its constituent parts, the noisy budget process is likely to have implications for how the coalition works. The frantic nature of the briefing made it feel like a pre-election Budget. Let's not forget there are six more budgets and autumn statements this Parliament that need to be agreed. It's hard to see the politics of each getting much easier, or the Lib Dem desire for differentiation subsiding. That said, part of the intensity of the manoeuvring reflects the depths of the concerns among Liberal Democrat strategists about what they see as their dire prospects in the May elections - Clegg's moment of maximum vulnerability this parliament. If the coalition is to maintain a veneer of smooth functioning it will need to learn a more orderly way of disagreeing.

And what of Labour? Having been largely squeezed out of the pre budget debate by the Coalition's internal wranglings, the decision on 50p now provides them with a clear message which will be delivered with real gusto as Ed Miliband showed today in the Commons - and unlike the autumn statement it's not a message that can be caricatured as being about the desire for a larger deficit. But this will only serve for the short term. The big question the public are asking of Labour is not whether they are committed to tackling unfairness. At the start of the new year Labour chose to open a conversation about how they would govern in tough times. It's since been interrupted by the row about the welfare cap, the coalition's woes on the NHS, and then the Budget. Soon Labour will have to recommence that discussion on how they would govern with scant money, and when they do they'll need to be sure about where they really want to take it.

Don't be fooled by the upbeat assessments. All sides are anxious about where this Budget will take them.

Gavin Kelly is a former adviser to Downing Street and the Treasury. He tweets @GavinJKelly1.

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The Tinder dating app isn't just about sex – it's about friendship, too. And sex

The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, as I found out quickly while using the app.

The first time I met someone using Tinder, the free dating app that requires users to swipe left for “no” and right for “yes” before enabling new “matches” to chat, it was an unqualified success. I should probably qualify that. I was newly single after five years in a committed relationship and wasn’t looking for anything more than fun, friendship and, well, who knows. A few weeks earlier I had tried to give my number to a girl in a cinema café in Brixton. I wrote it on a postcard I’d been using as a bookmark. She said she had a boyfriend, but wanted to keep the postcard. I had no date and I lost my page.

My Tinder date was a master’s student from Valencia called Anna (her name wasn’t really Anna, of course, I’m not a sociopath). When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, she told me I was far more handsome IRL (“in real life”) than my pictures suggested. I was flattered and full of praise for the directness of continental Europeans but also thought sadly to myself: “If only the same could be said about you.”

Anna and I became friends, at least for a while. The date wasn’t a success in the traditional sense of leading us into a contract based on exclusivity, an accumulating cache of resentments and a mortgage, but it had put me back in the game (an appropriate metaphor – people speak regularly of “playing” with the app).

According to Sean Rad, the co-founder who launched Tinder in late 2012, the service was invented for people like me. “It was really a way to overcome my own problems,” he told the editor of Cosmopolitan at an event in London last month. “It was weird to me, to start a conversation [with a stranger]. Once I had an introduction I was fine, but it’s that first step. It’s difficult for a lot of people.” After just one outing, I’d learned two fundamental lessons about the world of online dating: pretty much everyone has at least one decent picture of themselves, and meeting women using a so-called hook-up app is seldom straightforwardly about sex.

Although sometimes it is. My second Tinder date took place in Vienna. I met Louisa (ditto, name) outside some notable church or other one evening while visiting on holiday (Tinder tourism being, in my view, a far more compelling way to get to know a place than a cumbersome Lonely Planet guide). We drank cocktails by the Danube and rambled across the city before making the romantic decision to stay awake all night, as she had to leave early the next day to go hiking with friends. It was just like the Richard Linklater movie Before Sunrise – something I said out loud more than a few times as the Aperol Spritzes took their toll.

When we met up in London a few months later, Louisa and I decided to skip the second part of Linklater’s beautiful triptych and fast-track our relationship straight to the third, Before Midnight, which takes place 18 years after the protagonists’ first meet in Vienna, and have begun to discover that they hate each others’ guts.

Which is one of the many hazards of the swiping life: unlike with older, web-based platforms such as Match.com or OkCupid, which require a substantial written profile, Tinder users know relatively little about their prospective mates. All that’s necessary is a Facebook account and a single photograph. University, occupation, a short bio and mutual Facebook “likes” are optional (my bio is made up entirely of emojis: the pizza slice, the dancing lady, the stack of books).

Worse still, you will see people you know on Tinder – that includes colleagues, neighbours and exes – and they will see you. Far more people swipe out of boredom or curiosity than are ever likely to want to meet up, in part because swiping is so brain-corrosively addictive.

While the company is cagey about its user data, we know that Tinder has been downloaded over 100 million times and has produced upwards of 11 billion matches – though the number of people who have made contact will be far lower. It may sound like a lot but the Tinder user-base remains stuck at around the 50 million mark: a self-selecting coterie of mainly urban, reasonably affluent, generally white men and women, mostly aged between 18 and 34.

A new generation of apps – such as Hey! Vina and Skout – is seeking to capitalise on Tinder’s reputation as a portal for sleaze, a charge Sean Rad was keen to deny at the London event. Tinder is working on a new iteration, Tinder Social, for groups of friends who want to hang out with other groups on a night out, rather than dating. This makes sense for a relatively fresh business determined to keep on growing: more people are in relationships than out of them, after all.

After two years of using Tinder, off and on, last weekend I deleted the app. I had been visiting a friend in Sweden, and took it pretty badly when a Tinder date invited me to a terrible nightclub, only to take a few looks at me and bolt without even bothering to fabricate an excuse. But on the plane back to London the next day, a strange thing happened. Before takeoff, the woman sitting beside me started crying. I assumed something bad had happened but she explained that she was terrified of flying. Almost as terrified, it turned out, as I am. We wound up holding hands through a horrific patch of mid-air turbulence, exchanged anecdotes to distract ourselves and even, when we were safely in sight of the ground, a kiss.

She’s in my phone, but as a contact on Facebook rather than an avatar on a dating app. I’ll probably never see her again but who knows. People connect in strange new ways all the time. The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, but you can be sure that if you look closely at the lines, you’ll almost certainly notice the pixels.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad