I agree with David Cameron (!)

Nick Clegg and the Lib Dems are all over the place on their coalition “strategy”.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I rarely agree with David Cameron, but I can't help but concur with his line on the Lib Dems this morning:

He [Cameron] said the Lib Dems were in "complete muddle and confusion" as they had not spelt out what they would do if Labour won the most seats -- but comes second in terms of overall votes.

He's got a point, hasn't he? On Sunday, Clegg threw away months of hard work, having dodged and ducked questions about which party he would back ever since talk of a hung parliament went mainstream back in November. His careful formula was expressed on the BBC's Andrew Marr programme on 22 November 2009:

I start from a very simple first principle: it is not Gordon Brown or David Cameron or Nick Clegg who are kingmakers in British politics, it's the British people. Whichever party have the strongest mandate from the British people . . . have the first right to seek to try and govern, either on their own or with others.

Even though he was then repeatedly asked to define "mandate" -- votes or seats? -- Clegg stuck to this carefully worded formula right up until the start of this election campaign on 6 April. But Cleggmania seems to have gone to his head -- and he threw away all the hard work he'd put into evading and dodging the "What do you mean by a mandate? Votes or seats?" question.

On yesterday's edition of Marr, elaborating on his statement in the Sunday Times, the Lib Dem leader said:

It seems to me that it's just preposterous, the idea that if a party comes third in terms of the number of votes, it still has the right to carry on squatting in No 10 and continue to lay claim to having the prime minister of the country.

. . . What I'm saying here is pointing at a very, very irrational possible outcome of our potty electoral system, which is that a party that has spectacularly lost the election . . . could nonetheless according to constitutional tradition and convention still lay claim to providing the prime minister of the country.

The genie is out of the bottle -- and Cameron is right to point it out. Once Clegg has said the Lib Dems won't back Labour if the latter comes third (but wins most seats), he has to explain whether they'd back Labour if it comes second (but wins most seats). Clegg's ducking and diving will no longer do.

So the Lib Dems do seem muddled and confused. Clegg's answer, says the Indie's Simon Carr:

. . . certainly surprised a senior member of the Liberal Democrat command I mentioned it to later. "Surely he said that he wouldn't support Gordon if Labour got fewer votes?" Nope, he wouldn't support the Labour Party. "I'll have to go and watch it," the Liberal Democrat said.

Maybe it was a mistake. Because then Marr asked what he, Clegg, would do if Labour changed the leader after the election. He didn't say: "I repeat, if the party lost the popular vote, I wouldn't keep it in office." He said instead: "Here we get into the 'what-if' territory that I find very difficult."

And he went back to earlier ideas of collaborating with the party that would deliver Liberal Democrat manifesto commitments. But he couldn't do that with Labour polling fewer votes than the Tories because he ruled it out.

There is another important point worth raising: why does Nick Clegg think Gordon Brown would automatically lose the right to remain in Downing Street if Labour came third? Why do the Lib Dems, who have for so long rightly argued for the need for a government to secure more than 50 per cent support from the electorate, now seem so obsessed with pluralities and not majorites, that is to say, with who is first, second or third, rather than with who can command majority support?

The fact is that if -- and, I admit, it remains a big "if" -- the Lib Dems decided to enter into a formal coalition with Labour on 7 May, then such a coalition government, with Brown in charge, would -- according to current polling -- command the support of more than half the electorate.

In fact, such a coalition would have a greater popular mandate, and reflect the votes of a higher proportion of voters, than any government since the Second World War. So why couldn't Brown then stay on in No 10?

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

Getty Images
Show Hide image

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