Is Labour's lead five points or 10? Why ICM and YouGov disagree

It all depends on how you assume those who say "don't know" will vote when the election actually happens.

The latest monthly ICM/Guardian poll, showing that Labour's lead over the Tories has shrunk from eight points to just five, has provoked much comment. How, when most surveys show the party around 11 points ahead, can Labour have sunk so low?

To begin with, it's important to note that ICM's polls have long shown a lower Labour lead than those from other groups such as YouGov and TNS-BRMB. Seven of the last 12 polls by the company have had Labour ahead by five points or less. December's ICM poll, which showed a Labour lead of eight points, was also less flattering than the concurrent YouGov survey, which showed a Labour lead of 10.

Why the discrepancy? The main reason is the difference in how the two pollsters treat the "don't knows". While YouGov simply discounts those voters who say they "don't know" which party they'd vote for, ICM reallocates 50 per cent of them based on the party they voted for at the previous general election. This approach was originally developed to respond to the phenomenon of "shy Tories" - those who intended to vote Conservative but were unwilling to say so. In 1992, this famously meant many polls showed Labour in front when in fact it was the Tories who were heading for victory. After studying the data, ICM found that a disproportionate number of those who said "don't know" to voting intention questions in 1992 had voted for the Conservatives in 1987. The reallocation method was born.

At present, since a significant number of 2010 Liberal Democrat voters are unsure how they'll vote at the next election, while most Labour voters are sure, ICM invariably shows a higher level of support for Clegg's party than YouGov and a lower level of support for Labour. The most recent poll by the latter has Labour on 42 per cent and the Lib Dems on 11 per cent, while the most recent by the former has Labour on 38 per cent and the Lib Dems on a seemingly miraculous 15 per cent. There are good arguments for both YouGov and ICM's approaches but for those sceptical of ICM's method, it's worth pointing out that it was the second most accurate pollster in 2010.

Finally, it's worth imagining how different the political narrative would be if it was ICM, rather than YouGov, that conducted a daily poll. Since the coalition came to power, ICM has never shown a Labour lead larger than 10 points (a figure the party has only attained once, in September 2012) or a Lib Dem vote share lower than 11 per cent (the party averaged 14 per cent in 2012). Conversely, YouGov has had Labour ahead by as much as 14 points and the Lib Dems as low as seven per cent. But fortunately for Ed Miliband and unfortunately for Nick Clegg, politicos pay more far attention to a daily pollster than they do to a monthly one.

Ed Miliband would be under greater pressure if ICM's polling figures received as much attention as YouGov's. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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How to explain Brexit to your kids

It’s not hard. The Brexiteers’ tantrums are a parody of how children behave.

My parents never sat me down for “the politics talk”. I suspect they were too embarrassed. Like many children of my generation, I was left to develop my own ideas about what adults did in private.

We didn’t have the internet and our arms were too short to open most newspapers (scientists were still working on the tabloid-broadsheet hybrid). Hence we picked up news randomly, either by overhearing snippets on the radio while buying sweets in the newsagent’s or by accidentally watching the start of the six o’clock news following the end of Charles In Charge.

By the time I was nine, the same age my eldest child is now, I had unrealistic expectations of politicians and the democratic process. Due to the fact that I had no idea what anyone was talking about, I assumed everyone in the House of Commons was having serious, informed thoughts about the most important issues of the day.

I now know that the real reason I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying was because what had sounded like “roargh roargh [insult] <braying laughter>” really had been “roargh roargh [insult] <braying laughter>” all along. I’d assumed it was a language I had yet to learn, one of the more specialised dialects of Adult-ese. I’d already wasted one vote by the time I realised that Prime Minister’s Questions was basically Jeremy Kyle with posher accents and minus the lie detector tests.

I don’t want my children to make the same mistakes as me. Thankfully, it turns out Brexit Britain is the ideal place to teach your kids how politics really works. Never has there been a time when those stalking the corridors of power were more in tune with the average tantruming toddler. There’s no point in rational argument; you just have to hope that those in power burn themselves out before too much damage is done.

This particular tantrum has of course been building for some time. The dominant rhetoric of the Leave campaign – like that of the Tory party itself – always offered a spoilt child’s view of the world, one in which you are the centre of the universe, depending on no one else for your survival.

When others point out that this isn’t the case – that perhaps you wouldn’t have a home and food on the table if it wasn’t for Mummy or Daddy, or perhaps the UK would not have a strong economy were it not a member of the EU – you simply tell them they’re being mean. You’ll show them! They’re not the boss of you! So you pack your bags and leave.

If you are six, you might get to the corner of your road, realise with disappointment that no one is following you and turn back, hoping no one noticed you were gone. If you are the UK, you hang around for a while, maybe hiding in some bushes, thinking “any minute now they’ll come looking for me.”

But they don’t, so eventually you think “sod ‘em, I’ll go to my mates’. Unfortunately, you cannot get there without Mummy to drive you. This is a problem. But at least you can tell yourself that you were doubly right to leave, since everything that is happening now is Mummy’s fault.

Never in British politics has the panicked outrage of those who know they are making a terrible mistake been so palpable. It reminds me of the time when I was teaching my eldest son to drink from a beaker. He kept spilling small amounts, which caused him so much distress he’d end up pouring the rest of the juice onto the carpet to make it look deliberate. Whenever I tried to stop him, I’d only make him more panicked, thus even more likely to get juice everywhere.

I have since asked him if he remembers why he did this. He says he does not, but I have told him this is what the British government is doing with Brexit. The referendum was the initial spillage; we now have to sit and watch, biting our tongues, in the hope that the “well, anyhow, I totally meant to do that!” response can be averted.

There is little chance of that, though. When my middle son told his older brother he could fly, he quickly backed down on being asked to demonstrate this by jumping from an upstairs window. Liam Fox would have thrown himself headlong, then blamed Project Fear for his broken neck. Or rather, he’d have thrown someone else – one of the millions of people whose lives really will be ruined by Brexit – then tried to argue that the exceptionally bendy necks of UK citizens could be used as one of the “main cards” in negotiations.

The behaviour is beyond childlike; it is a parody of how children behave. When I asked one of my sons to clean his teeth this morning, he called me a “poo head” and said his teeth wouldn’t get decay. He still brushed them, though.

He did not conclude I was some sinister sore loser out to trick him because his teeth are young and white and mine are old and stained. He still has some basic sense that people who ask you to do things you don’t want to do might yet have your best interests at heart, regardless of who is right or wrong. He did not call me a sneering member of the elite trying to override the will of all toothpaste-rejecting British children (to be fair, I think “poo head” may have been meant to capture that, but at least he only called me it once).

Then again, the teeth in my son’s head are his alone. The consequences of neglect would be his to endure. Those stage-managing the Brexit tantrum are insulated from its most devastating consequences. Thus they can hurl insults, stick their fingers in their ears and take more than a little pleasure in the sheer recklessness of it all. It is not just an extended childhood; it is childhood without having to come to terms with the consequences of your own behaviour, because others will suffer them for you.

I want my own children to understand that what they see now is not what politics should be. That there is not some deep, meaningful logic underpinning what the adults in charge are doing. What looks like bitterness, point-scoring and sheer lack of self-control is, more often than not, just that. We have indulged these people too long. Let’s raise a generation with higher expectations of those who will claim to speak on their behalf.

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.