The Tories are considering cuts to the NHS and overseas aid

Osborne may use next year's Spending Review to remove the ring-fence on health and international development spending.

Ahead of next year's expected spending review (which would cover spending from 2015-2017), the Guardian's Patrick Wintour reports that the Tories are unsure whether they will be able to repeat their 2010 pledge to ring-fence spending on health and international development.

Given the deteriorating fiscal situation, this is no surprise. When George Osborne delivered his first Budget in June 2010, the newly-established Office for the Budget Responsibility forecast that the deficit would fall from £154.7bn (11%) in 2010 to £37bn (2.1%) in 2015. But the failure of Osborne's strategy to deliver growth (indeed, its success in delivering recession) means that, according to the latest independent forecasts, it will now stand at £96.1bn (5.8%).

In response, the Chancellor has already been forced to extend his austerity programme by two years to 2017 (going further, David Cameron has suggested he may need an extra five) and has declared his intention to seek another £10bn of welfare cuts (the reason he tried - and failed - to remove Iain Duncan Smith, who is opposed to further cuts, from his post in this week's reshuffle). With the fiscal situation likely to worsen further as growth remains anaemic or non-existent (the OECD today predicted that the UK economy would shrink by 0.7% this year, a worse peformance than any G7 country except Italy), Osborne is on the hunt for further savings.

Few Tory MPs would weep at the demise of the NHS/overseas aid ring-fence (many were outraged that defence spending was cut by 7.5%, while overseas aid received a 35% real-terms increase) but such a decision would inflict further damage on Cameron's brand. Against this, the Tories believe that a 2013 spending review would cause trouble for Labour by forcing it to come clean about where it would cut. As Treasury select committee chairman Andrew Tyries has said: "Labour would have to respond. Having the coalition parties committed to the same spending path halfway into the next Parliament makes it very difficult for Labour at the election."

The biggest question facing Balls and Miliband remains whether to accept the Tories' spending plans, as Labour did in 1997, or offer a distinct alternative.

George Osborne arrives at Downing Street yesterday for the first cabinet meeting since the reshuffle. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Why Nigel Farage is hoovering up all the women I know

Beware young fogeys.

I can’t remember where I was when I first worked out that I was older than Nigel Farage. You’d think after that bombshell went off, you’d still be able to locate the crater. Anyway, there it is: the cut-price little Oswald Mosley is about a year younger than me.

I mention this not because I want to dwell on the nasty piece of shit, but because I’ve been having to face, at one remove, so to speak, the problem of young fogeyism. It seems to be all around. And not only that, it’s hoovering up women I know.

The first time it happened was with B——. She was going to come round last weekend, but then emailed to cancel the day before, because she was going to watch rugby – apparently there’s some kind of tournament on, but it never seems to end – with her boyfriend. How ghastly, I said, or words to that effect; I’d rather die.

She then made the Category One mistake of saying, “Rugby, cricket, all the same to me,” with a cheeky little “x” at the end of it.

I replied thus: Rugby is a violent and brutal game (the coy term is “contact sport”, which means you get to – indeed, are encouraged to – injure the opposing team as often as you can, in the absence of any other tactic) loved by fascists, or, at best, those with suspicious ideas about the order of society with which I doubt you, B——, would wish to be aligned. Also, only people of immense bulk and limited intelligence can play it. Cricket is a game of deep and subtle strategy, capable of extraordinary variation, which is appreciated across the class spectrum, and is also so democratically designed that even the less athletic – such as I – can play it. [I delete here, for your comfort, a rant of 800 or so words in which I develop my theory that cricket is a bulwark against racism, and rugby, er, isn’t.] Both are dismayingly over-represented at the national level by ex-public-school boys; cricket as a matter of historical accident (the selling-off of school playing fields under Thatcher and Major), rugby as a matter of policy. Have a lovely day watching it.

Two things to note. 1) This woman is not, by either birth or ancestry, from a part of the world where rugby is played. 2) You wouldn’t have thought she was one of nature’s rugby fans, as she considers that Jeremy Corbyn is a good person to be leading the Labour Party. (True, thousands of Tories think the same thing, but for completely different reasons.)

That’s Exhibit A. Exhibit B is my old friend C——, whom I haven’t seen for about five years or so but suddenly pops up from the past to say hello, how about a drink? I always liked C—— very much, largely because she’s very funny and, let’s be frank about this, something of a sexpot. She seems keen to bring someone over with her who, reading between the lines like a modern-day Sherlock Holmes, I deduce to be her latest partner. The thing is, she says, she’s not sure he can come, because he might be going beagling.

Beagling?

Well, she does come round (alone, thank goodness) and she’s looking even better than I remember, and is even funnier, too, and she shows me some of the pictures she has put up on her profile page on some dating site, and they’re not the kind of photographs this magazine will ever publish, let’s leave it at that. (One of them even moves.) And, as it turns out – and it doesn’t really surprise me that much – the young beagler she is seeing is a good thirty years-plus younger than she, and his photograph shows him to be all ears and curls, like a transporter mix-up between Prince Charles and the young David Gower. Like B——’s young man, he is not called Gervaise or Peregrine but may as well be.

What on Earth is going on here? Can we blame Farage? I can understand the pull of the void, but this is getting ridiculous. Do they not quite understand what they’re doing? Actually, C—— does, because she’s had her eyes open all her life, and B——, her youth and political idealism notwithstanding, didn’t exactly come down in the last shower, either.

So what is it with these young wannabe toffs – one of whom isn’t even rich? “You’d like him,” C—— says, but I’m not so sure. People who go beagling sure as hell don’t like me, and I see no reason not to return the favour.

Well, I can’t thrash this out here. C—— leaves, but not before giving me the kind of kiss that makes me wish Binkie Beagley, or whatever his name is, would just wink out of existence.

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times