The perils of being a Green politician

I was supposed to have a quiet day today at the Green Party conference – fat chance. Most of the eve

I was supposed to have a quiet day today at the Green Party conference – fat chance. Most of the events I am organising won’t be happening until Saturday, but a lot of people are just now finding out that I’m standing for Principal Speaker and I am finding it hard to move around the conference centre here at Hove town hall.

Every few steps someone will stop to brief me on their specialist subject so that I can help promote it in the future. This may be frustrating when you’re on the way to the loo, but is really fascinating stuff.

Among other things, I’ve had a great talk with the architect of our ‘citizen’s income’ policy and one of the founder members of the party 33 years ago (longer than I have been alive!), a chat about ethical pensions and a heated debate on 4×4 campaign tactics with a councillor while he helped me put together the props for our Trident demonstration tomorrow.

All this has meant I have neglected the main conference programme, which is a bit of a shame as I had marked off tons of fringes and debates I didn’t want to miss, including a debate on social enterprises: organisations that link trade with a social mission. Half a million people in the UK already work in this sector, which just goes to show that having priorities other than profit can be good business sense. Never mind – I will just have to catch up on the news in the bar later on.

This morning I did speak in the main hall to propose my big local shops motion. Contrary to what many people think, we aren’t an ‘anti-business’ party, but restrict our support to enterprises that are ecologically sound and socially responsible. This translates in practice to liking local and small businesses but not big multinational companies that have terrible records on workers rights, massive carbon footprints and huge numbers of air and truck miles associated with their products. All fair enough, wouldn’t you agree?

We already had some good policies to support small businesses, but these were dotted about the various sections of our policy documents. I felt that we needed a dedicated chapter and some extra measures on the list, particularly because many local Green activists are running campaigns to help high streets and town centres that are in crisis thanks to out-of-town developers, greedy landlords and the predatory tactics of big supermarkets.

The motion was almost unanimously passed – a great relief - so we now officially support the introduction of ‘business conservation areas’, will insist new developments contain affordable space for small firms, will ban all new out-of-town developments, and will empower local authorities to bring in rent controls to prevent private landlords from driving up rents and forcing out independent retailers in favour of chain store ‘clones’.

Tomorrow promises to be even busier than today. Will I survive? Watch this space.

Sian Berry lives in Kentish Town and was previously a principal speaker and campaigns co-ordinator for the Green Party. She was also their London mayoral candidate in 2008. She works as a writer and is a founder of the Alliance Against Urban 4x4s
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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