Cameron rejects state-backed regulation but Miliband accepts it

Prime Minister says he has "serious concerns and misgivings" over writing the new press regulatory system into law.

As expected, a sharp political divide has opened up between Labour and the Conservatives over the Leveson report. In his statement to the Commons, David Cameron praised most of Leveson's recommendations but declared that he had "serious concerns and misgivings" over his call for a new system of press regulation to be underpinned by statute. This, he suggested, would set a dangerous precedent by "writing elements of press regulation into the law of the land". He warned that this would create "a vehicle for politicians, whether today or some time in the future, to impose regulation and obligations on the press".

But he ended by emphasising that the status quo "is not an option" and said that the press had "a limited period of time" to set up a new regulatory system that complies with "Leveson principles". And, while Cameron is opposed to state-backed regulation on principled as well as pragmatic grounds, he was careful not to rule it out completely.

In his response to Cameron, Ed Miliband began by immediately signalling his disagreement with the PM, stating that he hoped to "convince" him in the days and weeks ahead that "we should put our trust in Lord Justice Leveson's recommendations". Lest there be any doubt that Labour favours state-backed regulation, Miliband went on to say "[Leveson] recommends that both Ofcom’s role and these criteria of independence and effectiveness will be set out in statute, a law of this Parliament. A truly independent regulation of the press, guaranteed by law. Lord Justice Leveson’s proposals are measured, reasonable and proportionate. We on this side unequivocally endorse both the principles set out and his central recommendations."

Cameron is opposed to any form of state involvement, Miliband is unambiguously in favour. The divide could not be clearer. While both have agreed to cross-party talks, it's hard to see, at this stage, how their differences could be bridged.

David Cameron leaves Number 10 Downing Street. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear