Mehdi Hasan: Renationalise the railways? Please do.

Will Self triumphs on BBC Question Time.

My fellow New Statesman columnist - and the new professor of contemporary thought at Brunel University - Will Self put in a typically brilliant performance on BBC1's Question Time last night, especially on the subject of rail privatisation.

He interrupted a rambling answer from fellow QT panellist and Conservative cabinet minister Eric Pickes to say:

I merely seek to observe that the [rail] subsidy was £1 billion before [when] they were nationalised, in real terms, and it's now £4 billion.

He continued:

The fundamental mistake - and there were many mistakes about the privatisation of the rail system - but the most fundamental mistake was rail travel, your journey to work, is not a fungible good and that means it cannot be exchanged for anything else. You can't get to Guildford station and think: 'Oh I want go to work in London today. I'll go to Mars on this new rocket train that's been provided by this splendid private company'.

It was a ludicrous idea from the get-go and the particular way that they did it with the track hived off from the rail operators has caused absolute chaos, some dreadful crashes and the current predicament that you find yourselves in.

"So what would you do?" asked Pickles. Self replied, to huge applause from the Surrey audience:

I'd renationalise it.

The 16-year rail privatisation experiment has been an utter disaster. Above-inflation increases in UK train fares - that are now the highest in western Europe - make it more and more unpopular as time goes by. Tory ministers, their cheerleaders in the right-wing press and their Blairite fellow-travellers in the Labour Party often forget - or choose to ignore! - that there is a clear majority in favour of renationalisation of the railways - on the left and the right. The inconvenient truth for ministers is that the likes of Bob Crow - and Will Self! - are more in touch with voters than they are. And the recent row over multi-million-pound, taxpayer-funded Network Rail bonuses - which were eventually and reluctantly waived by Network Rail bosses after public outcry - didn't do the privatisation cause much good. It was another reminder of how messed up the system is.

In fact, as transport expert Christian Wolmar wrote back in October 2008, a month after the start of the financial crisis:

[W]hat New Labour refuses to let on is that the railways are effectively largely publicly-owned anyway. Network Rail, which owns the infrastructure, is a company without shareholders that is dependent on government backed debt (to the tune of £20bn), for its survival. It receives billions in annual grants direct from government and is, to all intents and purposes, a state-run enterprise.

Wolmar also pointed out that with Network Rail already in public hands, it would cost little or nothing to "renationalise them", once the train operators decided to hand back their franchises when their terms expired or once they got into financial difficulties.

This isn't just an ideological or political argument; it's financial. A recent study by the Transport for Quality of Life thinktank found that renationalisation could save the taxpayer £1.2 billion a year "through cheaper borrowing costs, removing shareholders' dividends and reducing fragmentation". £300 million alone, said the study, would be saved if train operating companies were taken into public ownership.

It's a no-brainer: the time has come to renationalise the railways. It would be a popular, effective and money-saving move in our current "age of austerity". Ed Miliband and Maria Eagle - are you listening?

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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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear