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Forget Osborne. It was Miliband's afternoon, says Mehdi Hasan

Miliband can do it - give him a chance.

Forget the Budget. As the IPPR's Will Straw pointed out on Twitter:

What a waste of an hour. Nothing in the #Budget that hadnt been leaked.

Indeed. The Hugh Dalton era is well and truly over. George Osborne stood at the despatch box, with his glass of water, and performed a glorified version of a TV-news-channel paper review, confirming the various leaks and briefings to the press - from the cut in the top rate of tax to the increase in the tax allowance. But there was no still no sign of a stimulus package; no plan for growth. The Osborne slump continues.

The economics, therefore, took a backseat to the politics. This was, after all, yet another test for Ed Miliband. How would he perform? What would he say? How would he sound? The coalition's bizarre decision to slash the popular 50p top rate of tax, in particular, presented the leader of the opposition with an open goal - and, this time, he didn't miss. He looked - and sounded - confident; his opponents, the Prime Minister and the Chancellor, looked exasperated and annoyed as they sat and listened.

Miliband had facts:

What did the Chancellor say in August last year about America's more balanced deficit plan:

"Those who spent the whole of the past year telling us to follow the American example need to answer this simple question: why has the US economy grown more slowly than the UK economy?"

Mr Deputy Speaker, the numbers are in.

And the Chancellor is plain wrong.

The US economy grew at 1.7% last year, twice the rate of ours.

This Government have run out of excuses.

He had outrage:

Under his tax cut, a banker earning five million pounds will get an extra £240,000 a year.

Let's call this what it really is:

The Government's very own bankers' bonus.

He had humour:

It is great to support the great British success stories like Downton Abbey.

A tale of a group of out of touch millionaires.

Who act like they're born to rule.

But turn out to be no good at it.

Sound familiar Mr Deputy Speaker?

We all know it's a costume drama.

They think it's a fly on the wall documentary.

My own favourite gag/trick was when the Labour leader asked members of the coalition cabinet, seated opposite him, to raise their hands if they would be personally benefiting from the cut in the 50p top rate of tax. It was a cheap shot - but it hit home. Millionaire ministers shifted uneasily in their seats; some - I'm looking at you William Hague and George Young! - looked away and pretended not to hear. "Just nod," proclaimed Miliband, deploying a favourite put-down of the Prime Minister to great effect.

It was, in my view, a brilliant speech - especially given how difficult and awkward it is for leaders of the opposition to respond to Budget statements in the Commons, at such short notice. One friend of Miliband told me: "We were pretty pleased." Well, that's an understatement! Another source close to the Labour leader said the speech was a "group effort" but that "Ed and Torsten [Henricson-Bell, Miliband's economics adviser and the Labour Party's new director of policy] get most credit" for writing it. If only his conference speech had been delivered with such gusto. . .

The former Labour minister and ardent Blairite, George Foulkes, who backed David Miliband in the 2010 leadership contest, tweeted:

Ed Miliband has delivered the best Budget response I have heard from Opposition Leaders in 33 years in Parliament.

Brother David joined the tributes, with this brief tweet:

Excellent Budget response by Ed

The pessimists and defeatists on the Labour front and backbenches should take note not just of the dismal failure of the coalition's austerity measures - which some of the more right-wing among them would like to ape and emulate - but also their leader's bravura performance this afternoon. Yes, I admit: they are few and far between; far too few for my liking. But Miliband can do it. So, as I've said before, give him a chance.



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.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood