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Squeezed Middle: Cheesed off and strapped for cash

Broke-ness crept up on me stealthily, like adulthood.

How did I get here (not here, our local branch of 99p Stores – I walked – but here in life), I can’t help but ask myself, as I pause next to a shelf of no-brand tortilla chips and glance from one hand to the other? In my left I have some organic mature cheddar, purchased minutes ago in Sainsbury’s for £2.90. In my right, I have a packet exactly the same size with “Signature . . . A Cheese to Please” emblazoned across it. Price: 99p.

When and how did I become a person who notices the price of cheese? Let alone a person who considers returning a block of organic cheddar to Sainsbury’s and purchasing a cheese product of questionable provenance from 99p Stores, for the sake of saving £1.91?

It didn’t happen overnight. Broke-ness crept up on me stealthily, like adulthood and the ability to enjoy The Archers. Four years ago, I was throwing money around like Paris Hilton on speed. I’d buy ridiculous dresses and only wear them once, go on holidays to Brazil, spend £50 in one night on cocktails. I rarely bothered to check my bank balance, let alone stick to a budget.

Then I had two children and the economy hit the skidders almost simultaneously. I had never believed people who told me that kids were expensive. A baby only needs a drawer to sleep in and a few nappies, doesn’t it? Well, no. Kids also need somewhere to live and that is currently extortionately, cruelly expensive. Kids need you to look after them, and they don’t even pay you a minimum wage. If you try and earn some money, they need childcare, which costs as much as, or more, than you earn. Your household income is halved and then halved again, while your outgoings are doubling, tripling . . . it’s your basic, reliable recipe for economic meltdown.

I look back to the cheese. I originally bought not just Sainsbury’s cheddar but organic Sainsbury’s cheddar. Worrying about money all the time is so boring. I add variety with the full range of traditional middle-class worries: harmful chemicals in the food chain, the fairness or otherwise of trade, intensive farming, the destruction of hedgerows . . .

A woman in a bobble hat pushes past me, heading for the Baby Goods section. She loads two boxes of toxic-looking fragranced nappy bags into her basket. Her daughter, dressed head-to-toe in pink, is clutching a bumper bag of Haribo. It must be bliss not to worry so much. Baby crying? Feed her Haribo! Can’t be faffed to wash smelly nappies? Wrap them in plastic and stick them in the ground! Short on cash? Get a City job, flog dodgy financial products, retire at 35, job’s a good ’un.

Perhaps that should be my New Year’s resolution: 2013 will be the year of sod it all. Decisively, I drop the packet of Signature . . . A Cheese to Please into my basket and inch my overloaded double buggy towards the checkout.


Alice O'Keeffe is an award-winning journalist and former arts editor of the New Statesman. She now works as a freelance writer and looks after two young children. You can find her on Twitter as @AliceOKeeffe.

This article first appeared in the 14 January 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Dinosaurs vs modernisers

David Young
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The Tories are the zombie party: with an ageing, falling membership, still they stagger on to victory

One Labour MP in Brighton spotted a baby in a red Babygro and said to me: “There’s our next [Labour] prime minister.”

All football clubs have “ultras” – and, increasingly, political parties do, too: although, in the case of political parties, their loudest and angriest supporters are mostly found on the internet. The SNP got there first: in the early days of email, journalists at the Scotsman used to receive bilious missives complaining about its coverage – or, on occasion, lack of coverage – of what the Scottish National Party was up to. The rest soon followed, with Ukip, the Labour Party and even the crushed Liberal Democrats now boasting a furious electronic horde.

The exception is the Conservative Party. Britain’s table-topping team might have its first majority in 18 years and is widely expected in Westminster to remain in power for another decade. But it doesn’t have any fans. The party’s conference in Manchester, like Labour’s in Brighton, will be full to bursting. But where the Labour shindig is chock-full of members, trade unionists and hangers-on from the charitable sector, the Conservative gathering is a more corporate affair: at the fringes I attended last year, lobbyists outnumbered members by four to one. At one, the journalist Peter Oborne demanded to know how many people in the room were party members. It was standing room only – but just four people put their hands up.

During Grant Shapps’s stint at Conservative headquarters, serious attempts were made to revive membership. Shapps, a figure who is underrated because of his online blunders, and his co-chair Andrew Feldman were able to reverse some of the decline, but they were running just to stand still. Some of the biggest increases in membership came in urban centres where the Tories are not in contention to win a seat.

All this made the 2015 election win the triumph of a husk. A party with a membership in long-term and perhaps irreversible decline, which in many seats had no activists at all, delivered crushing defeats to its opponents across England and Wales.

Like José Mourinho’s sides, which, he once boasted, won “without the ball”, the Conservatives won without members. In Cumbria the party had no ground campaign and two paper candidates. But letters written by the Defence Secretary, Michael Fallon, were posted to every household where someone was employed making Trident submarines, warning that their jobs would be under threat under a Labour government. This helped the Tories come close to taking out both Labour MPs, John Woodcock in Barrow and Furness and Jamie Reed in Copeland. It was no small feat: Labour has held Barrow since 1992 and has won Copeland at every election it has fought.

The Tories have become the zombies of British politics: still moving though dead from the neck down. And not only moving, but thriving. One Labour MP in Brighton spotted a baby in a red Babygro and said to me: “There’s our next [Labour] prime minister.” His Conservative counterparts also believe that their rivals are out of power for at least a decade.

Yet there are more threats to the zombie Tories than commonly believed. The European referendum will cause endless trouble for their whips over the coming years. And for all there’s a spring in the Conservative step at the moment, the party has a majority of only 12 in the Commons. Parliamentary defeats could easily become commonplace. But now that Labour has elected Jeremy Corbyn – either a more consensual or a more chaotic leader than his predecessors, depending on your perspective – division within parties will become a feature, rather than a quirk, at Westminster. There will be “splits” aplenty on both sides of the House.

The bigger threat to Tory hegemony is the spending cuts to come, and the still vulnerable state of the British economy. In the last parliament, George Osborne’s cuts fell predominantly on the poorest and those working in the public sector. They were accompanied by an extravagant outlay to affluent retirees. As my colleague Helen Lewis wrote last week, over the next five years, cuts will fall on the sharp-elbowed middle classes, not just the vulnerable. Reductions in tax credits, so popular among voters in the abstract, may prove just as toxic as the poll tax and the abolition of the 10p bottom income-tax rate – both of which were popular until they were actually implemented.

Added to that, the British economy has what the economist Stephen King calls “the Titanic problem”: a surplus of icebergs, a deficit of lifeboats. Many of the levers used by Gordon Brown and Mervyn King in the last recession are not available to David Cameron and the chief of the Bank of England, Mark Carney: debt-funded fiscal stimulus is off the table because the public finances are already in the red. Interest rates are already at rock bottom.

Yet against that grim backdrop, the Conservatives retain the two trump cards that allowed them to win in May: questions about Labour’s economic competence, and the personal allure of David Cameron. The public is still convinced that the cuts are the result of “the mess” left by Labour, however unfair that charge may be. If a second crisis strikes, it could still be the Tories who feel the benefit, if they can convince voters that the poor state of the finances is still the result of New Labour excess rather than Cameroon failure.

As for Cameron, in 2015 it was his lead over Ed Miliband as Britons’ preferred prime minister that helped the Conservatives over the line. This time, it is his withdrawal from politics which could hand the Tories a victory even if the economy tanks or cuts become widely unpopular. He could absorb the hatred for the failures and the U-turns, and then hand over to a fresher face. Nicky Morgan or a Sajid Javid, say, could yet repeat John Major’s trick in 1992, breathing life into a seemingly doomed Conservative project. For Labour, the Tory zombie remains frustratingly lively. 

Stephen Bush is editor of the Staggers, the New Statesman’s political blog.

This article first appeared in the 01 October 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The Tory tide