The Lib Dems' poll woes continue

Why weak poll ratings will strengthen Clegg's hand ahead of the Budget.

Nick Clegg may have enjoyed a more favourable press recently but the Sunday polls make grim reading for the Lib Dem leader. A ComRes poll puts Clegg's party on 10 per cent, while the latest YouGov poll has them on just seven per cent (their joint lowest rating since the general election), with Ukip snapping at their heels on six per cent. If repeated on a uniform swing at the election, the YouGov figues would reduce the Lib Dems to a rump of nine seats. The much-touted "differentiation strategy" has yet to bear fruit.

Ahead of the Budget, however, low poll ratings are something of a blessing for Clegg. The weaker the Lib Dems' poll ratings, the stronger his negotiating hand. As James Forsyth reports in today's Mail on Sunday, the Tories are fearful that the Lib Dems could exit the coalition as early as the start of 2014 (a possibility increased by poor poll ratings) and are determined to keep them on board. In this case, that means giving Clegg at least some of what he wants in the Budget.

The Lib Dem leader is still pushing for an accelerated increase in the personal allowance (with the added support of Ed Balls) funded by a £16bn package of tax rises on the wealthy. On Monday night, David Laws, the Tories' favourite Lib Dem (and the only Lib Dem backbencher not to have rebelled in this parliament), will return to the fray, giving a major interview to Newsnight and supporting Clegg's demands, including the introduction of a "mansion tax" on properties worth more than £2m.

At present, it seems likely that Osborne will offer an accelerated increase in the personal allowance, which is due to rise from £7,475 to £8,105 this April, without making the full leap to £10,000. This will be funded by clamping down on tax avoidance (Osborne could introduce a "general anti-avoidance rule", a law that would require corporations to receive clearance from HM Revenue and Customs on their tax plans before implementing them) and by closing various loopholes, rather than a mansion tax. The Lib Dems have yet to convince their coalition partners of the merits of taxing wealth more heavily and income more lightly.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood