The public don't support further welfare cuts

A new poll shows that 72 per cent of voters want welfare spending to be increased or frozen.

George Osborne has long assumed that you can't cut welfare spending too hard. The Chancellor reduced benefits by £18bn in the 2010 Spending Review and by another £3.7bn in last year's Autumn Statement after the Lib Dems vetoed his preferred figure of £10bn. The common belief among the Tories is that there is no area of spending the voters would rather see shrunk.

But a new ComRes/ITV News poll on the government's spending plans suggests this assumption is mistaken. It found that a majority of people either want welfare spending to be increased (43 per cent) or frozen (29 per cent), with just 27 per cent in favour of further cuts. Welfare is the fourth most popular area for government spending, with transport, defence, public sector pensions, local government and international development all viewed as more deserving of cuts. 

The most popular area for spending is the NHS, a vindication of Osborne's decision to protect the service from cuts. Just five per cent of voters believe health spending should be reduced and 71 per cent believe it should be increased. 

Ahead of this summer's Spending Review, which will set departmental spending limits for 2015-16, the poll should strengthen the cause of Danny Alexander and Iain Duncan Smith who have formed a united front against further welfare cuts. Those such as the Defence Secretary, Philip Hammond, who have argued that their departments should be protected, with the burden of cuts instead falling on welfare, will no longer be able to claim that they have the public on their side. 

George Osborne walks into Downing Street to attend a security meeting with US Vice President Joe Biden on February 5, 2013 in London. 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