Undercover: behind the scenes of our Labour Special Issue

How Ben Jennings's cartoon of Ed Miliband and Ed Balls made the front page of the New Statesman.

Hello, and welcome to the second instalment of "Undercover", where I try to explain a bit about how we put our covers together. For the Labour party conference special issue, we decided to try a young cartoonist, Ben Jennings, who won last year's Political Cartoon of The Year award.

I wrote last month about the New Statesman's incredible history as a breeding ground for cartoonists (Martin Rowson, Will Self, the Telegraph's "Matt" and Peter Brookes all got a start here) so it's nice to continue that tradition by giving Ben the cover.

We asked him to draw Ed Miliband and Ed Balls, riffing on the former's focus on communities and patriotism and the latter's ferocious reputation. Here is his initial sketch:

Like last week, we have a flap, so this gives a "reveal" when you lift that up - who is Ed Milband trying to restrain? There are also a couple of small touches, such as Ed Balls's "Butch" collar and Ed Miliband's "predistribution" tattoo. 

Here's the coloured version:

One of the things that's great about Ben's style is the sense of movement you get from those extra lines. The sampled textures in the background are also something of a signature of his (and are usually done on a computer rather than by hand).

Anja Wohlstrom, our art director, and I talked about this, and while we loved the positions, and the expressions (and, in my case, Ed Balls's hair), we felt that it was a bit too red. Not that red isn't a lovely (and Labour-ish) colour, but with a red masthead too, it could all get a bit monochromatic.

So Ben produced a final version, with a park in the background:

Just the place to take a Labour attack dog for a walk. 

Ben Jennings's final artwork for the New Statesman cover.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

Show Hide image

The strange death of boozy Britain: why are young people drinking less?

Ditching alcohol for work.

Whenever horrific tales of the drunken escapades of the youth are reported, one photo reliably gets wheeled out: "bench girl", a young woman lying passed out on a public bench above bottles of booze in Bristol. The image is in urgent need of updating: it is now a decade old. Britain has spent that time moving away from booze.

Individual alcohol consumption in Britain has declined sharply. In 2013, the average person over 15 consumed 9.4 litres of alcohol, 19 per cent less than 2004. As with drugs, the decline in use among the young is particularly notable: the proportion of young adults who are teetotal increased by 40 per cent between 2005 and 2013. But decreased drinking is not only apparent among the young fogeys: 80 per cent of adults are making some effort to drink less, according to a new study by consumer trends agency Future Foundation. No wonder that half of all nightclubs have closed in the last decade. Pubs are also closing down: there are 13 per cent fewer pubs in the UK than in 2002. 

People are too busy vying to get ahead at work to indulge in drinking. A combination of the recession, globalisation and technology has combined to make the work of work more competitive than ever: bad news for alcohol companies. “The cost-benefit analysis for people of going out and getting hammered starts to go out of favour,” says Will Seymour of Future Foundation.

Vincent Dignan is the founder of Magnific, a company that helps tech start-ups. He identifies ditching regular boozing as a turning point in his career. “I noticed a trend of other entrepreneurs drinking three, four or five times a week at different events, while their companies went nowhere,” he says. “I realised I couldn't be just another British guy getting pissed and being mildly hungover while trying to scale a website to a million visitors a month. I feel I have a very slight edge on everyone else. While they're sleeping in, I'm working.” Dignan now only drinks occasionally; he went three months without having a drop of alcohol earlier in the year.

But the decline in booze consumption isn’t only about people becoming more work-driven. There have never been more alternate ways to be entertained than resorting to the bottle. The rise of digital TV, BBC iPlayer and Netflix means most people means that most people have almost limitless about what to watch.

Some social lives have also partly migrated online. In many ways this is an unfortunate development, but one upshot has been to reduce alcohol intake. “You don’t need to drink to hang out online,” says Dr James Nicholls, the author of The Politics of Alcohol who now works for Alcohol Concern. 

The sheer cost of boozing also puts people off. Although minimum pricing on booze has not been introduced, a series of taxes have made alcohol more expensive, while a ban on below-cost selling was introduced last year. Across the 28 countries of the EU, only Ireland has higher alcohol and tobacco prices than the UK today; in 1998 prices in the UK were only the fourth most expensive in the EU.

Immigration has also contributed to weaning Britain off booze. The decrease in alcohol consumption “is linked partly to demographic trends: the fall is largest in areas with greater ethnic diversity,” Nicholls says. A third of adults in London, where 37 per cent of the population is foreign born, do not drink alcohol at all, easily the highest of any region in Britain.

The alcohol industry is nothing if not resilient. “By lobbying for lower duty rates, ramping up their marketing and developing new products the big producers are doing their best to make sure the last ten years turn out to be a blip rather than a long term change in culture,” Nicholls says.

But whatever alcohol companies do to fight back against the declining popularity of booze, deep changes in British culture have made booze less attractive. Forget the horrific tales of drunken escapades from Magaluf to the Bullingdon Club. The real story is of the strange death of boozy Britain. 

Tim Wigmore is a contributing writer to the New Statesman and the author of Second XI: Cricket In Its Outposts.