Congress set for a frantic 20 days as Republicans announce their comeback

Republicans set to launch plans to cut spending and overturn health-care reform as they take charge

A new year, a new Congress, and a whole new set of political leaders who are about to become very familiar indeed. Gone are the days of Speaker Pelosi: this afternoon John Boehner of Ohio will take up the gavel, becoming the 61st Speaker of the House of Representatives at the helm of a newly energised Republican majority.

On Boehner's shoulders now hangs the weight of expectation. The conservative activists who fired up those Tea Party rallies are expecting big changes, while the reality of governing involves a degree of co-operation, at least, with the White House, and across the political aisle.

But the GOP isn't on the sidelines any longer, and it certainly isn't wasting any time trying to tear down the key planks of Barack Obama's agenda.

From the moment the Republicans take control of the House at noon today, never mind the first 100 days, there's a plan for their first 20 days in power. First up is the first in what's expected to be a huge raft of spending cuts, back to 2008 levels, though perhaps not quite as much as the initial $100bn cuts that "A Pledge to America" promised – starting with Congress itself.

There'll be a vote on Thursday on a proposal to slash the money Congress spends on its own expenses by more than $35m – reducing salaries, office expenditure and even the size of committees. In a statement, Boehner's office described the cuts as "bringing to the people's House the humility and modesty our constituents are expecting from us". It's not just about austerity measures – this is a sign that the Republicans mean to cut the size of government, and a message that, after years on the outside looking in, they can be trusted to run things again.

The 20-day agenda doesn't allow much time to pause for breath. On Friday it's straight on to the Republicans' other key election pledge – rolling back Obama's flagship health-care reforms.

They've already scheduled a vote to repeal the entire policy – next Wednesday – a two-page declaration that will be largely symbolic at best. It'll be followed by a vote, most probably in the next two weeks, on the GOP alternative. House Republicans might well approve, but it's unlikely to get anywhere in the Senate – and even if it did, President Obama would wield his veto. "The president is pretty confident about defending health care," a White House spokesman said.

Of course, wielding a veto could depict the Democrats as the party trying to frustrate the people's will. As the new majority leader, Eric Cantor, put it: "The Senate can serve as a cul-de-sac if that's what it wants to be, but again, it will have to answer to the American people."

But going for health care from the get-go could offer the Democrats a chance to make some political capital: they claim that trying to repeal the health-care reforms, plus that promise to extend the Bush-era tax cuts for wealthy and middle-class earners, will simply add trillions of dollars to the deficit the Republicans have promised to reduce. The Democratic congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz told Slate: "Every minute wasted on trying to repeal health-care reform fruitlessly is one less minute the Republicans will spend on job creation and turning this economy around."

But this is the Republicans' moment. It is they who now control the House, and its powerful committees, from Appropriations to Oversight. As he returned to a very different Washington last night, Obama conceded that his rivals wouldn't be interested in much working together, to begin with at least – though he urged both parties to join forces in building the economic recovery.

But, for Speaker Boehner and his new cohort of Republican leaders, the first 20 days are their chance to make their mark. "Tough choices are neccessary to help our economy get back to creating jobs and end the spending binge in Washington that threatens our children's future," says the playbook. Politically, GOP strategists say it's now up to Boehner to make his party all about smaller government, fiscal conservatism and political reform.

Controlling the House, though, isn't everything – and if the Tea Party and other conservative activists who helped sweep the GOP to victory in November hope for too much, they could end up disappointed. A close friend of Boehner's, Senator Saxby Chambliss of Georgia, has cautioned that the newly elected ranks of Republicans, relishing their biggest majority in 70 years, are hoping for the skies: "Gee whiz, it's not going to be easy," he said. "We have a bunch of those House guys who are really on fire."

However, there's still a Democrat in the White House, with an economy still in serious trouble and laws that need to be passed. By all three branches of government. Let the Republicans enjoy their moment, as that gavel bangs down on the opening of the 112th Congress. But Washington, after all, is nothing if not a place of pragmatism.

Felicity Spector is a senior producer at Channel 4 News

Show Hide image

Brexit confusion is scuppering my show – what next?

My week, from spinning records with Baconface, Brexit block and visiting comedy graves.

I am a stand-up comedian, and I am in the process of previewing a new live show, which I hope to tour until early 2018. It was supposed to be about how the digital, free-market society is reshaping the idea of the individual, but we are in the pre-Brexit events whirlpool, and there has never been a worse time to try to assemble a show that will still mean anything in 18 months’ time.



A joke written six weeks ago about dep­orting eastern Europeans, intended to be an exaggeration for comic effect, suddenly just reads like an Amber Rudd speech – or, as James O’Brien pointed out on LBC, an extract from Mein Kampf.

A rude riff on Sarah Vine and 2 Girls 1 Cup runs aground because there are fewer people now who remember Vine than recall the briefly notorious Brazilian video clip. I realise that something that gets a cheer on a Tuesday in Harrogate, or Glasgow, or Oxford, could get me lynched the next night in Lincoln. Perhaps I’ll go into the fruit-picking business. I hear there’s about to be some vacancies.



I sit and stare at blocks of text, wondering how to knit them into a homogeneous whole. But it’s Sunday afternoon, a time for supervising homework and finding sports kit. My 11-year-old daughter has a school project on the Victorians and she has decided to do it on dead 19th-century comedians, as we had recently been on a Music Hall Guild tour of their graves at the local cemetery. I wonder if, secretly, she wished I would join them.

I have found living with the background noise of this project depressing. The headstones that she photographed show that most of the performers – even the well-known Champagne Charlie – barely made it past 40, while the owners of the halls outlived them. Herbert Campbell’s obelisk is vast and has the word “comedian” written on it in gold leaf, but it’s in the bushes and he is no longer remembered. Neither are many of the acts I loved in the 1980s – Johnny Immaterial, Paul Ramone, the Iceman.



I would have liked to do some more work on the live show but, one Monday a month, I go to the studios of the largely volunteer-run arts radio station Resonance FM in Borough, south London. Each Wednesday night at 11pm, the masked Canadian stand-up comedian Baconface presents selections from his late brother’s collection of 1950s, 1960s and 1970s jazz, psychedelia, folk, blues and experimental music. I go in to help him pre-record the programmes.

Baconface is a fascinating character, whom I first met at the Cantaloupes Comedy Club in Kamloops in British Columbia in 1994. He sees the radio show as an attempt to atone for his part in his brother’s death, which was the result of a prank gone wrong involving nudity and bacon, though he is often unable to conceal his contempt for the music that he is compelled to play.

The show is recorded in a small, hot room and Baconface doesn’t change the bacon that his mask is made of very often, so the experience can be quite claustrophobic. Whenever we lose tapes or the old vinyl is too warped to play, he just sits back and utters his resigned, philosophical catchphrase, “It’s all bacon!” – which I now find myself using, as I watch the news, with ­depressing regularity.



After the kids go to sleep, I sit up alone and finally watch The Lady in the Van. Last year, I walked along the street in Camden where it was being filmed, and Alan Bennett talked to me, which was amazing.

About a month later, on the same street, we saw Jonathan Miller skirting some dog’s mess and he told me and the kids how annoyed it made him. I tried to explain to them afterwards who Jonathan Miller was, but to the five-year-old the satire pioneer will always be the Shouting Dog’s Mess Man.



I have the second of the final three preview shows at the intimate Leicester Square Theatre in London before the new show, Content Provider, does a week in big rooms around the country. Today, I was supposed to do a BBC Radio 3 show about improvised music but both of the kids were off school with a bug and I had to stay home mopping up. In between the vomiting, in the psychic shadow of the improvisers, I had something of a breakthrough. The guitarist Derek Bailey, for example, would embrace his problems and make them part of the performance.



I drank half a bottle of wine before going on stage, to give me the guts to take some risks. It’s not a long-term strategy for creative problem-solving, and that way lies wandering around Southend with a pet chicken. But by binning the words that I’d written and trying to repoint them, in the moment, to be about how the Brexit confusion is blocking my route to the show I wanted to write, I can suddenly see a way forward. The designer is in, with samples of a nice coat that she is making for me, intended to replicate the clothing of the central figure in Caspar David Friedrich’s 1818 German masterpiece Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog.



Richard Branson is on the internet and, just as I’d problem-solved my way around writing about it, he’s suggesting that Brexit might not happen. I drop the kids off and sit in a café reading Alan Moore’s new novel, Jerusalem. I am interviewing him about it for the Guardian in two weeks’ time. It’s 1,174 pages long, but what with the show falling apart I have read only 293 pages. Next week is half-term. I’ll nail it. It’s great, by the way, and seems to be about the small lives of undocumented individuals, buffeted by the random events of their times.

Stewart Lee’s show “Content Provider” will be on in London from 8 November. For more details, visit:

This article first appeared in the 27 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, American Rage