TV debates: five not hugely important things you might have missed

Election 2010: Guffwatch!

Having surfaced from a deep submersion in the post-tv debate analysis pond (it is thick and murky down there, with a million tweets and so much Clegg) it is now time to take a calmer view of last night's proceedings. Why, I ask, have the following not been addressed with the same fierce scrutiny as who won/the rules/Clegg/Clegg/Clegg/Clegg/Clegg?

1. The opening credits. Were we in 1972? The most important televisual moment in political broadcasting history and ITV took a leaf out of the design concept behind The Generation Game. (Also, did the whole thing not, at times, resemble The Weakest Link? I kept expecting Clegg and Brown to hold up cards with "Cameron" scrawled on it. Cut to an interview with Cambo saying he thought it was all very unfair and meanie Brown was just out to get him.)

2. Cleggoland (this one definitely isn't going to catch on) drawing huge circles on his pad, clearly around the audience's names so he could say things like "Jacqueline, you're my friend aren't you?" and "Jacqueline, now I've said your name 85 times you'll have to vote for me! Won't you!"

3. Alastair Stewart's panic-stricken voice - revealed as he tried to assert his authority (really self-smashed in the moment he got the dates of the devolved debates wrong and maniacally whittered something about the "heat of the moment") by barking out their names with ever-escalating volume. "Mr Brown, Mr CAMeron, MIIISSTTTEERRR CLEGGGGGG!).

4. Cambo's angry eyes. Smiling with his mouth, murderous with his eyes. Never a good look.

5. Everyone in the audience was in a disguise! Seriously - have you ever seen so many false moustaches, patently fake glasses and oversized wigs? Tell me someone else noticed this - it was like they had all dressed up as the cast of Last of the Summer Wine in there. Right that's one too many dated TV show references. Over and out.

(Oh and the most important question of all. Who won on the GUFF? It's got to be Gordo doesn't it? The "I agree with Nick" stuff was nauseating and there was a nationwide cringe as he crunched out the jokes. The ultimate poll, then: The Guff Poll. Gordo: 1. Cambo: 0 (but +10 for his protestation after the event that he'd had so much fun! Puh-lease.) Cleggoland: 0 (but -4000 according to the British public who have suddenly heard of the Liberal Democrats).

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

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Cabinet audit: what does the appointment of Andrea Leadsom as Environment Secretary mean for policy?

The political and policy-based implications of the new Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

A little over a week into Andrea Leadsom’s new role as Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra), and senior industry figures are already questioning her credentials. A growing list of campaigners have called for her resignation, and even the Cabinet Office implied that her department's responsibilities will be downgraded.

So far, so bad.

The appointment would appear to be something of a consolation prize, coming just days after Leadsom pulled out of the Conservative leadership race and allowed Theresa May to enter No 10 unopposed.

Yet while Leadsom may have been able to twist the truth on her CV in the City, no amount of tampering will improve the agriculture-related side to her record: one barely exists. In fact, recent statements made on the subject have only added to her reputation for vacuous opinion: “It would make so much more sense if those with the big fields do the sheep, and those with the hill farms do the butterflies,” she told an audience assembled for a referendum debate. No matter the livelihoods of thousands of the UK’s hilltop sheep farmers, then? No need for butterflies outside of national parks?

Normally such a lack of experience is unsurprising. The department has gained a reputation as something of a ministerial backwater; a useful place to send problematic colleagues for some sobering time-out.

But these are not normal times.

As Brexit negotiations unfold, Defra will be central to establishing new, domestic policies for UK food and farming; sectors worth around £108bn to the economy and responsible for employing one in eight of the population.

In this context, Leadsom’s appointment seems, at best, a misguided attempt to make the architects of Brexit either live up to their promises or be seen to fail in the attempt.

At worst, May might actually think she is a good fit for the job. Leadsom’s one, water-tight credential – her commitment to opposing restraints on industry – certainly has its upsides for a Prime Minister in need of an alternative to the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy (CAP); a policy responsible for around 40 per cent the entire EU budget.

Why not leave such a daunting task in the hands of someone with an instinct for “abolishing” subsidies  thus freeing up money to spend elsewhere?

As with most things to do with the EU, CAP has some major cons and some equally compelling pros. Take the fact that 80 per cent of CAP aid is paid out to the richest 25 per cent of farmers (most of whom are either landed gentry or vast, industrialised, mega-farmers). But then offset this against the provision of vital lifelines for some of the UK’s most conscientious, local and insecure of food producers.

The NFU told the New Statesman that there are many issues in need of urgent attention; from an improved Basic Payment Scheme, to guarantees for agri-environment funding, and a commitment to the 25-year TB eradication strategy. But that they also hope, above all, “that Mrs Leadsom will champion British food and farming. Our industry has a great story to tell”.

The construction of a new domestic agricultural policy is a once-in-a-generation opportunity for Britain to truly decide where its priorities for food and environment lie, as well as to which kind of farmers (as well as which countries) it wants to delegate their delivery.

In the context of so much uncertainty and such great opportunity, Leadsom has a tough job ahead of her. And no amount of “speaking as a mother” will change that.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.