Morning Call: pick of the papers

The ten must-read pieces from this morning's papers.

1. Ed Miliband's leadership is threatened by this Blairite policy coup (Guardian)

By embracing cuts, Ed Balls and Ed Miliband have left all those who stand against them disenfranchised, argues Len McCluskey.

2. America, Greece and a world on fire (Financial Times)

A Greek economic crisis is threatening Europe but the US has no intention of leading the rescue mission, writes Gideon Rachman.

3. Iran's nuclear scientists are not being assassinated. They are being murdered (Guardian)

Killing our enemies abroad is just state-sponsored terror - whatever euphemism western leaders like to use, says Mehdi Hasan.

4. Nick Clegg might not look sad much longer (Times) (£)

The received wisdom says coalition government has ruined the Lib Dems' chances. But it's too early to write them off, says Rachel Sylvester.

5. Don't be fooled by the power of false assumptions (Independent)

As the abuse has grown, Miliband has passed one of the tests of leadership, says Steve Richards. He has kept calm.

6. By stealing the Lib Dems' ideas, Labour leader Ed Miliband can split the coalition (Daily Telegraph)

If the Labour leader finds common ground with his rivals, he will reinvigorate the left, writes Mary Riddell.

7. We are all going to hell in a shopping basket (Financial Times)

At a deeper level the crisis marks the triumph of consumers and investors over workers and citizens, says Robert Reich.

8. The British boarding school remains a bastion of cruelty (Guardian)

While condemning global injustices against children, we fail to examine the ethics of removing seven-year-olds from their families, writes George Monbiot.

9. The hour has come for a new Britannia (Daily Mail)

There could be no more fitting way for this seafaring nation to mark its gratitude and respect for the woman who has been our greatest ambassador for 60 years, argues a Daily Mail editorial.

10. Kim Jong Un's subjects are already singing his praises (Daily Telegraph)

There's no let-up in the bowing and scraping as North Korea's new leader warms to the job, writes Robert Colvile.

Getty Images
Show Hide image

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