Why you should back High Streets First

A new campaign wants locals to be given powers to limit the number of betting shops on their streets

A new campaign wants locals to be given powers to limit the number of betting shops on their streets.

Betting shops are now more common than post offices, libraries and newsagents on some high streets in our poorest areas. As businesses shut in the downturn, more bookmakers are opening in their place. They play to people's faith in brute luck rather than effort, they tempt addiction, and they are beyond the control of local democracy.

I'm not against responsible gambling. I gamble myself. But my constituency in Southwark is one of the most deprived areas in London and has 77 bookmakers (I pass ten on my walk to the train station every morning) while Hackney has 64. As councillors we get complaints about bookies "taking over the high street" and putting off other businesses from moving in. Brave colleagues like Claire Hickson have spoken out but we have no meaningful way of stemming the tide.

High Streets First is a new campaign designed to change all that. We have a rare opportunity to make a difference. An independent review from Mary Portas has recommended giving councils new powers to limit the number of bookmakers on their streets. The government is now deciding whether to accept that recommendation, promising to report back by May. If we want the government to say yes, we need to make some noise.

Currently bookmakers have it frighteningly easy. They can open up in the same premises as a bank, estate agent, job centre or restaurant without a change in planning permission. In her review into British high streets, Portas recommended changing the "use class" of bookies, giving local councils the chance to limit the growth of new outlets.

The independent gambling reform group Grasp is helping to lead the campaign. David Lammy, MP for Tottenham, has endorsed us from the left and Tory councillors including David Parsons, chair of the LGA environment committee, support reform from the right. The Local Government Association, Joan Ruddock MP, Harriet Harman MP, local councillors, charities and residents are all calling for change, and we're backed by Change.org and all the major progressive blogs.

And there's one other reason to support High Streets First. It has a good chance of winning. What we're asking for is tangible, specific and it seems consistent with the government's rhetoric on pushing power downwards. As a first step, sign the petition and invite Eric Pickles to agree.

Local democracy should be a principle, not a gamble. Our high streets don't deserve anything less.

Sign the petition

 

Rowenna Davis is a councillor, journalist and author of Tangled up in Blue: Blue Labour and the Struggle for Labour's Soul, published by Ruskin Publishing at £8.99. She is also a Labour councillor.

 

Rowenna Davis is Labour PPC for Southampton Itchen and a councillor for Peckham

Steve Garry
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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

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 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism