The Tale of Tony Trout

Spying, corruption, prison and a pet deer

This story is a classic. Thank you, Greenville News. A local Greenville councilman, Tony Trout (TONY TROUT!), is done for spying and wiretapping. He gets sent to Beckley, a West Virginian prison camp (headline: Disciplined prison life awaits Tony Trout). And then you get this:

A man identifying himself as a former camp inmate in a popular online prison forum said one of the best parts about Beckley is the wildlife: hand-fed raccoons and skunks, even a deer named "Buttons" that would stick its nose in inmates' pockets for candy.

And suddenly we're in a Disney film or Dr Doolittle, but with a criminal edge. Buttons?!

The Greenville News blogosphere don't seem to think much of the whole set-up either. One commenter compares it to "Camp Old Indian", a holiday camp, which prompts an outpouring of nostalgia. "Rusty Nail", says he, "went there for several Summers when I was a 'YOOT' growing up in Greenville." Another says he still drives up there to reminisce about "how simple and good life seemed to be way back then".

It's all too much. But somehow I think old wiretapping Tony Trout could probably do a lot worse for his moral fibre than spend a few months feeding sweets to Buttons. Makes me think our criminal justice system should start seriously considering the introduction of tame deer and raccoons. Into the manifesto, I hear you cry.

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.