High Streets First: a response to Eric Pickles

Don't be fooled by claims that the number of betting shops is decreasing.

Dear Mr Pickles,

Thank you for taking the time to reply to High Streets First, the campaign calling on you to give local people the power to limit the number of betting shops in their neighbourhoods. We have happily accepted your invitation to meet Bob Neill MP.

Since you have declined our invitation to Southwark to see the problem for yourself, I thought I'd give you a visible contrast of the number of betting shops in our area compared to yours:

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It seems that your constituency of Brentwood and Ongar has more florists than bookies. This map shows just seven betting shops in total, compared to ten flower shops. Southwark has over 68 active licensces for bookies, with nine in Camberwell Green ward alone.

I can't help but think that if you suffered this kind of proliferation in your area, you'd get what we're talking about.

Please don't be fooled by the bookmakers' claims that their numbers are decreasing. Despite the downturn, the total has risen to over 9,000 in the last few years, with many clustering in poorer areas See p. 6-8 here and p. 9 here.

Crucially, we have also seen an explosion in the number of high stakes gaming machines to over 32,000.

It's great that you acknowledge this principle in your letter:

"It is important that local communities can manage the overall retail diversity, vitality and viability of their high streets... I understand there can sometimes be concerns raised about problems faced by the clustering of betting shops in some high streets."

But I'm slightly concerned by this:

"...you may be aware local authorities already have the power to limit development in their areas, through article four directions..."

The fact is that Article 4 directions don't work for councillors. Even the LGA says they are "cumbersome, bureaucratic and costly". If local people want to block a store, we have to give a years notice or face potentially colossal compensation claims from large bookmaker companies.

Southwark isn't the only area that gets this. Since we launched, several thousand people have signed our petition, and many other councils have contacted us in support. We are meeting Waltham Forest and Ealing, and Manchester is passing a motion in support of the campaign that is spreading throughout the North West.

The media also seem to get it. You might have seen our coverage in the Daily Mail, the BBC Today programme, the One Show, the Independent, the Wright Stuff, BBC London and Southwark News. More is on its way.

We also have celebrity endorsement from "the Real Hustler" Alexis Conran on the back of his documentary on addiction, and a whole bunch of community groups are getting in touch. They are keen to start letter writing campaigns and build the petition. A group of young people in Southwark felt so strongly about the issue they stood outside Elephant and Castle shopping centre and collected 250 signatures off their own back.

Then of course there is the public. A recent poll by the LGA and ComRes found that over three quarters of people want central government to give councils more power over their high streets. Some 68 per cent are specifically against existing rules that allow betting shops to take over banks and building societies without planning permission.

We're not going away either. The campaign is now formally being led by GRASP () with a coalition of politicians, former addicts, grassroots groups, medical experts, churches and councillors. We're achieving all of this in our spare time around full time jobs, but more people are coming out in support every day.

We'd love you to join us.

Rowenna Davis is a 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

ELLIE FOREMAN-PECK FOR NEW STATESMAN
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The triumph of Misbah-ul-Haq, the quiet grafter

How Misbah redeemed Pakistani cricket.

It was an incongruous sight: the entire Pakistani cricket team doing press-ups on the revered pitch at Lord’s, led by its captain, Misbah-ul-Haq. This unusual celebration marked not merely a Test match victory over England on Sunday but something greater: the rehabilitation of Pakistani cricket.

Seven years earlier, the Sri Lankan team bus was en route to the cricket stadium in Lahore for the third day of a Test match against Pakistan when it was attacked by Islamist militants. Gunfire killed six police officers and a driver; several Sri Lankan cricketers were also injured. That was the last Test match played in Pakistan, which, despite protestations, opponents consider too dangerous to visit.

A year later, Pakistan toured England for a Test series. The News of the World alleged that in the final match at Lord’s three Pakistani cricketers had conspired to bowl no-balls in exchange for money. All three received bans of five years or more for corruption. The entire squad was lampooned; police had to shield its members from abuse as they arrived home.

Misbah was on the periphery of all of this. Aged 36 at the time, he was dropped from the squad before the English tour and seemed unlikely to play international cricket again. But the turbulence engulfing Pakistani cricket forced the selectors to reassess. Not only was Misbah recalled but he was made captain. “You have to ask yourself,” he later said: “‘Have I been the captain because they supported me, or because they had no alternatives?’”

Pakistani cricket prizes and mythologises teenage talent plucked from obscurity and brought into the international side. During his decade as captain, Imran Khan picked 11 teenagers to make their debuts, often simply on the basis of being wowed by their performance in the nets. Misbah shows that another way is possible. He grew up in Mianwali, a city that was so remote that: “The culture there wasn’t such that you thought about playing for Pakistan.”

At the behest of his parents, he devoted his early twenties not to his promising batting but to gaining an MBA. Only at 24 did he make his first-class debut, strikingly late in an age when professional sportsmen are expected to dedicate all their energy to the game from their teenage years.

Pakistani cricket has always been “a little blip of chaos to the straight lines of order”, Osman Samiuddin writes in The Unquiet Ones. Misbah has created order out of chaos. He is unflappable and methodical, both as a captain and as a batsman. His mood seems impervious to results. More than anything, he is resilient.

He has led Pakistan to 21 Test victories – seven more than any other captain. He has done this with a bowling attack ravaged by the 2010 corruption scandal and without playing a single match at home. Because of security concerns, Pakistan now play in the United Arab Emirates, sometimes in front of fewer than a hundred supporters.

Misbah has developed a team that marries professionalism with the self-expression and flair for which his country’s cricket is renowned. And he has scored runs – lots of them. Over his 43 Tests as captain, he has averaged at 56.68. Few have been so empowered by responsibility, or as selfless. He often fields at short leg, the most dangerous position in the game and one usually reserved for the team’s junior player.

Misbah has retained his capacity to surprise. As a batsman, he has a reputation for stoic defence. Yet, in November 2014 he reached a century against Australia in just 56 balls, equalling the previous record for the fastest ever Test innings, held by Viv Richards. The tuk-tuk had become a Ferrari.

Late in 2015, Misbah tried to retire. He was 41 and had helped to keep Pakistani cricket alive during some of its darkest days. But the selectors pressured him to stay on, arguing that the team would need him during its arduous tours to England and Australia.

They were right. His crowning glory was still to come. The team arrived in England following weeks of training with the national army in Abbottabad. “The army people are not getting much salaries, but for this flag and for the Pakistani nation, they want to sacrifice their lives,” Misbah said. “That’s a big motivation for all of us. Everyone is really putting effort in for that flag and the nation.”

Now 42, almost a decade older than any cricketer in England’s side, Misbah fulfilled a lifetime’s ambition by playing in a Test match at Lord’s. In Pakistan’s first innings, he scored a century and celebrated with push-ups on the outfield, in homage to the army’s fitness regime and those who had had the temerity to mock his age.

When Pakistan secured victory a little after 6pm on the fourth evening of the game, the entire team imitated the captain’s push-ups, then saluted the national flag. The applause for them reverberated far beyond St John’s Wood.

“It’s been a remarkable turnaround after the 2010 incident,” Misbah-ul-Haq said, ever undemonstrative.

He would never say as much, but he has done more than anyone else to lead Pakistan back to glory. 

Tim Wigmore is a contributing writer to the New Statesman and the author of Second XI: Cricket In Its Outposts.

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt