The Lib Dem rebels: who they are and what they want

Your guide to the four Lib Dem MPs planning to rebel against the increase in VAT.

Vince Cable may now claim that the Lib Dems only warned of the dangers of a VAT rise during the election in order to "score points" over the Conservatives, but there are others in his party who have always opposed this regressive move on principle.

One of them, Andrew George, has now tabled an amendment demanding an assessment of the impact the new 20 per cent rate will have on low-income groups. It has been signed by three others -- Bob Russell, Mark Williams and Roger Williams.

There is no evidence that Simon Hughes and Charles Kennedy have joined the rebellion, though it wouldn't be surprising if the Gang of Four (as they will undoubtedly soon be known) had their tacit support.

Meanwhile, Russell, who has previously threatened to vote against the Budget in its entirety, has dismissed an Independent on Sunday report that the rebels have secretly agreed to co-operate with Labour MPs as "poppycock" and "Labour mischief-making".

He said: "There is not a conspiracy involving Simon Hughes or Charles Kennedy, this is about backbencher unease from members. If Labour think there is some yawning chasm they are going to be sorely disillusioned."

It remains to be seen whether the amendment will be put to a vote on Tuesday, but the rebellion is an important reflection of the wider unease felt by Lib Dem activists over the Budget.

The MPs have no obvious ideological agenda, but Russell has a record as a Lib Dem maverick. He previously rebelled against the party whip to vote against equalising the age of consent and the sexual equality act.

Russell's name and those of his fellow conspirators are certainly worth noting for the future.

Andrew George

Age: 51

Constituency: St Ives (elected 1997)

Majority: 1,719 (3.7 per cent)

Significant moments: One of the first Lib Dem frontbenchers to threaten to resign if Charles Kennedy did not stand down as leader. Later sacked by Kennedy's successor, Menzies Campbell.

Bob Russell

Age: 64

Constituency: Colchester (elected 1997)

Majority: 6,982 (15.1 per cent)

Significant moments: Rebelled against the party whip to vote against equalising the age of consent and against the sexual equality act.

Mark Williams

Age: 44

Constituency: Ceredigion (elected 2005)

Majority: 8,324 (21.8 per cent)

Significant moments: Dramatically increased his majority at the last election from 219 to 8,324.

Roger Williams

Age: 62

Constituency: Brecon and Radnorshire (elected 2001)

Majority: 3,905 (10.2 per cent)

Significant moments: Served as shadow Welsh secretary for the Lib Dems from 2007-2008.

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George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war