Brown hasn't benefited from TV interview

Poll finds that voters have more sympathy for Brown, but less respect.

In today's Independent, Steve Richards makes the argument that Gordon Brown's interview with Piers Morgan may yet change the political weather.

He writes:

A common view on the blogs and in the newspapers was that the exercise was pointless because voters have already made up their minds on Brown and will not change them now. I disagree. Voters have made up their minds about Brown more than once. Indeed, they change on a frequent basis that must be exhausting for them and for him.

The first poll on Brown's interview, carried out by PoliticsHome, has just been published, so how does the Richards prediction look?

First, as most observers expected, the majority of voters said the interview had made no difference to their opinion. Second, while voters now have more sympathy for Brown, they also have less respect.

It's worth pointing out that those surveyed were only shown clips of the interview in advance of the TV screening, so I expect we'll get a clearer impression from later polls. But there are some findings worth noting.

Thirty per cent of voters said they felt more sympathy for the Prime Minister following the interview, and 17 per cent said they had less. But 24 per cent of those surveyed said they had less respect for Brown after the interview, compared to 21 per cent who said they had more.

A rise in sympathy for Brown is unlikely to benefit Labour at the polls; voters want to be led by someone they admire and respect, not someone they pity. The electorate sympathised with John Major towards the end of his time in office, but that didn't stop the Tories going down to a landslide defeat in 1997.

Labour's best hope is still to present Brown as a figure of authority and intellect, in contrast to the "novice" Cameron. But the PM's dalliance with celebrity politics has made it that little bit harder to do so.

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George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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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