Miliband's plan to force a vote on a "banking Leveson"

Labour leader repeat his favourite trick.

In announcing on ITV's Daybreak this morning that he will attempt to force a Commons vote on a Leveson inquiry for the banks, Ed Miliband is repeating the trick that has worked so well him for in the past. It was the threat of a vote that prompted News Corp to abandon its BSkyB bid and that led RBS boss Stephen Hester to relinquish his bonus. Labour will table an amendment to the Financial Services Bill, which is at committee stage in the House of Lords, calling for a public inquiry.

So far, the Tories and the Lib Dems have set themselves against one but Miliband can count on the support of a significant number of their MPs and much of the press, including the Daily Mail. In a leader in today's paper, the Mail declares:

Barclays chairman Marcus Agius is expected to quit today, increasing pressure on chief executive Bob Diamond to do the same.

But even that wouldn’t come close to lancing the boil. Doesn’t this latest sorry mess underline still more starkly the need for a Leveson-style inquiry into the whole banking industry?

Both Cameron and Clegg are resisting an inquiry on the grounds that it would slow down any police investigation but this fallacious argument was also used against Leveson. In his article for the Observer, Vince Cable wrote that a "costly Leveson-style public inquiry" (the Leveson inquiry is expected to cost £6m, a meaningless sum when the government spends more than a £700bn a year) would "certainly be enlivened by Ed Balls explaining why, in government, he allowed the regulatory mess to occur in the first place." Indeed it would. Is this not an argument for, rather than against an inquiry?

The longer Cameron resists demands for an inquiry, the greater the suspicion (for right or wrong) will be that he has "something to hide". If he is to tackle the public perception that the Tories are in cahoots with the banks, the pressure to act could become irresistible.

The Canary Wharf headquarters of Barclays Bank. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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With the BBC Food’s collection under threat, here's how to make the most of online recipes

Do a bit of digging, trust your instincts – and always read the comments.

I don’t think John Humphrys is much of a chef. Recently, as his Today co-presenter Mishal Husain was discussing the implications of the BBC’s decision to axe its Food website (since commuted to transportation to the Good Food platform, run by its commercial arm), sharp-eared listeners heard the Humph claim that fewer recipes on the web could only be a good thing. “It would make it easier!” he bellowed in the background. “We wouldn’t have to choose between so many!”

Husain also seemed puzzled as to why anyone would need more than one recipe for spaghetti bolognese – but, as any keen cook knows, you can never have too many different takes on a dish. Just as you wouldn’t want to get all your news from a single source, it would be a sad thing to eat the same bolognese for the rest of your life. Sometimes only a molto autentico version, as laid down by a fierce Italian donna, rich with tradition and chopped liver, will do – and sometimes, though you would never admit it in a national magazine, you crave the comfort of your mum’s spag bol with grated cheddar.

The world wouldn’t starve without BBC Food’s collection but, given that an online search for “spaghetti bolognese recipe” turns up about a million results, it would have been sad to have lost one of the internet’s more trustworthy sources of information. As someone who spends a large part of each week researching and testing recipes, I can assure you that genuinely reliable ones are rarer than decent chips after closing time. But although it is certainly the only place you’ll find the Most Haunted host Yvette Fielding’s kedgeree alongside Heston Blumenthal’s snail porridge, the BBC website is not the only one that is worth your time.

The good thing about newspaper, magazine and other commercial platforms is that most still have just enough budget to ensure that their recipes will have been made at least twice – once by the writer and once for the accompanying photographs – though sadly the days when everyone employed an independent recipe tester are long gone. Such sites also often have sufficient traffic to generate a useful volume of comments. I never make a recipe without scrolling down to see what other people have said about it. Get past the “Can’t wait to make this!” brigade; ignore the annoying people who swap baked beans for lentils and then complain, “This is nothing like dhal”; and there’s usually some sensible advice in there, too.

But what about when you leave the safety of the big boys and venture into the no man’s land of the personal blog? How do you separate the wheat from the chaff and find a recipe that actually works? You can often tell how much work a writer has put in by the level of detail they go into: if they have indicated how many people it serves, or where to find unusual ingredients, suggested possible tweaks and credited their original sources, they have probably made the dish more than once. The photography is another handy clue. You don’t have to be Annie Leibovitz to provide a good idea of what the finished dish ought to look like.

Do a bit of digging as part of your prep. If you like the look of the rest of the site, the author’s tastes will probably chime with your own. And always, always, wherever the recipe is from, read it all the way through, even before you order the shopping. There is nothing more annoying than getting halfway through and then realising that you need a hand blender to finish the dish, just as the first guest arrives.

Above all, trust your instincts. If the cooking time seems far too short, or the salt content ridiculously high, it probably is, so keep an eye on that oven, check that casserole, keep tasting that sauce. As someone who once published a magic mince pie recipe without any sugar, I’m living proof that, occasionally, even the very best of us make mistakes. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

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