Balls confirms that Labour will vote against Osborne's welfare bill

Shadow chancellor says his party will oppose any bill that unfairly hits working families.

Appearing at Treasury questions in the Commons, Ed Balls has just confirmed that Labour will vote against the government's Welfare Uprating Bill, which would cap benefit increases at 1 per cent for the next three years. "If he [George Osborne] intends to go ahead with such an unfair hit on mid-and lower-income working families, while he’s giving a £3bn top rate tax cut, we will oppose it, Mr Speaker," Balls said. In response, Osborne declared that Labour would have to explain "to the hard-working people of this country" why it planned to oppose "yet another measure to deal with the deficit".

It is Osborne who starts with the advantage. A YouGov poll at the weekend found that 33 per cent of voters think it was right to limit increases in benefits to 1 per cent, 19 per cent think the government should have gone further and frozen them completely, and 35 per cent think they should have been increased in line with inflation or more.

But Labour believes the Chancellor has miscalculated by announcing a measure that will largely fall on working households. Sixty per cent of those families affected are in work and, according to the Institute for Fiscal Studies, the average one earner couple will be £534 a year worse off by 2015. Expect Labour to also constantly remind the public that Osborne is simultaneously reducing the top rate of income tax from 50p to 45p, a measure that will benefit the average income-millionaire by £107,000. One challenge for the party, however, will be explaining why it opposes a 1 per cent cap on benefit increases but supports a 1 per cent cap on public sector pay.

In an eventful session, Osborne also announced that the 2013 Budget will be held on 20 March.

Labour leader Ed Miliband and shadow chancellor Ed Balls. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

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