The working class vote is up for grabs - will it be Labour or the Tories that seizes it?

Both parties have to make clear how they would cut the cost of living, increase the supply of housing and help low-paid workers.

We are increasingly becoming a working class nation. That is the view of almost two-thirds of the British public according to a report by the think-tank, British Future. Even a third of professionals describe themselves as working class.

Some commentators, such as Gaby Hinsliff, argue that this shift in class identity presents a big opportunity for the Labour Party. It’s not quite as simple as that. Both political parties have had major problems in reaching out to working class voters in recent years. Labour has become more and more a middle class party in terms of membership, ideas and voter base and the Tories have long struggled to win over blue collar voters. If Brits are feeling more proletarian, both political parties clearly need to up their game when it comes to appealing to ordinary working people.

It’s a sad truth that many working class voters have simply stopped voting altogether. In 1992, 75 per cent of the skilled working class and 77 of unskilled working class people voted. By 2010, that had plummeted to 58 per cent and 57 per cent respectively. And the 'class gap' in voting has become a chasm. In 1992, the voting gap between the proportion of professionals who voted and the skilled working class who voted was eight per cent. By 2010, this gap had increased to 18 per cent.

And our research has shown that more and more voters are feeling alienated from politicians of all parties. Eighty one per cent of voters believe that "politicians don’t understand the real world at all." Ed Miliband has a point when he argues that "Parliament is too middle class and doesn’t have the diversity that it needs to have." Recent research by Phil Cowley found that voters wanted to see more working class MPs and more MPs from their local area. A feeling that the 'political class' are separate from and don’t understand the concerns of ordinary working people can only increase a sense of disengagement.

There’s also substantial evidence that Labour, in particular, has lost the base and the sense of affection it may once have had among working class voters. In a recent YouGov survey, 53 per cent of people said that Labour used to care about "people like me", whereas only 30 per cent think the same today. Labour’s vote at the last election also haemorrhaged amongst the skilled working class to a mere 29 per cent, compared with Tony Blair in his first two elections who won over more than half of these voters.

It’s striking how much Labour’s membership has also reflected this received drift from working class roots. At the party's top table, it is much more likely that you'll be hearing the views of Islington coffee houses than the working men's clubs of County Durham.

In the 2010 Labour leadership election, the Blaenau Gwent Labour Party, once represented by Labour giants Nye Bevan and Michael Foot, distributed 310 ballot papers. Barnsley Central sent out 221. By contrast, Islington North CLP sent out 991 papers and Hampstead sent out 931 - a stark illustration of how the balance of power in Labour has moved from working to middle class areas and from north to south. As the Labour Party has become 'lattefied' it's views have gradually moved out of sympathy with voters in working class areas, on issues ranging from the EU to housing and crime and justice.

Indeed, a recent poll showed that middle class people were much more likely to describe themselves as "left of centre" than working class voters. Working class voters believe in aspiration – but this doesn’t mean earning megabucks, instead it’s seen as getting on in their job, improving their area, hoping for the best for their family, for example – but are also keen to ensure economic security. It’s pretty clear that neither party has been able to successfully balance aspiration and security in recent years.

These factors, combined with the collapse of the Liberal Democrats in the north and the midlands mean that the working class vote is up for grabs in a way that it hasn’t been for generations. Given that the next election will be fought in blue collar constituencies in these regions, the party that makes the most compelling appeal to working class voters is probably going to be the one that grabs the big political prize. And it’s not inevitable that this is going to be Labour, which has to take substantial steps to restore the enthusiasm of its working class vote. Both parties have to make clear how they would cut the cost of living, increase the supply of housing and help low-paid workers.

This also represents the first real Conservative opportunity for decades to make inroads in working class areas. But the challenge for the Tories in working class areas is greater, with 64 per cent of voters thinking that they are "the party of the rich, not ordinary people". Tories will be mindful of Mitt Romney’s experience in the USA, where a belief that he didn’t understand "people like me" proved his Achilles heel.

If the Conservatives want to be seen as the party of working people, they need more people from modest backgrounds on the front line and they also have to show that they can represent the shift worker, the cleaner and the checkout worker, as well as the small businessman. They also need to show that they have a vision of job creation and renewal in towns and cities still recovering from deindustrialisation. The party needs explicitly and repeatedly to present policies such as education reform as being designed not to help the well-heeled but, instead, to lift up the standard of education in working class areas - helping poorer children to make the most of their potential.

The Tories also need to tackle some preconceptions. Top Conservatives ought to remember that trade union members and public sector workers are valuable members of society and hard working contributors to the economy, as well as being potential voters. They should remember that one man's "excessive regulation" can be a working man or woman's right to spend time with their family.

But international evidence makes it clear that working class voting behaviour can change. For decades in Sweden, the Social Democrats were seen as the natural home for working class voters. Over the past decade, the centre-right Moderate Party has positioned itself as the workers' party - a home for hard working people with policies to match. Since 2006, the party has been in government - winning the votes of many working class Swedes who would previously have voted Social Democrat. In every other English speaking country, the centre-right has proved successful at winning over the majority of white, working class voters. There is no reason why the Conservatives cannot follow suit.

Given that more people describe themselves as working class than has been the case for decades, winning the working class vote is vital for politicians. With the right language, policies and people, both political parties have the potential of claiming this prize and becoming the party of choice for working class voters.

Ed Miliband speaks to reporters after Labour candidate Andy Sawford won the Corby by-election. Photograph: Getty Images.

David Skelton is the director of Renewal, a new campaign group aiming to broaden the appeal of the Conservative Party to working class and ethnic minority voters. @djskelton

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The dog at the end of the lead may be small, but in fact what I’m walking is a hound of love

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel.

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel. I seem to have become a temporary co-owner of an enthusiastic Chorkie. A Chorkie, in case you’re not quite up to speed with your canine crossbreeds, is a mixture of a chihuahua and a Yorkshire Terrier, and while my friend K— busies herself elsewhere I am looking after this hound.

This falls squarely into the category of Things I Never Thought I’d Do. I’m a cat person, taking my cue from their idleness, cruelty and beauty. Dogs, with their loyalty, their enthusiasm and their barking, are all a little too much for me, even after the first drink of the day. But the dog is here, and I am in loco parentis, and it is up to me to make sure that she is looked after and entertained, and that there is no repetition of the unfortunate accident that occurred outside my housemate’s room, and which needed several tissues and a little poo baggie to make good.

As it is, the dog thinks I am the bee’s knees. To give you an idea of how beeskneesian it finds me, it is licking my feet as I write. “All right,” I feel like saying to her, “you don’t have to go that far.”

But it’s quite nice to be worshipped like this, I have decided. She has also fallen in love with the Hovel, and literally writhes with delight at the stinky cushions on the sofa. Named after Trude Fleischmann, the lesbian erotic photographer of the Twenties, Thirties and Forties, she has decided, with admirable open-mindedness, that I am the Leader of the Pack. When I take the lead, K— gets a little vexed.

“She’s walking on a loose lead, with you,” K— says. “She never does that when I’m walking her.” I don’t even know what that means, until I have a think and work it out.

“She’s also walking to heel with you,” K— adds, and once again I have to join a couple of mental dots before the mists part. It would appear that when it comes to dogs, I have a natural competence and authority, qualities I had never, not even in my most deranged flights of self-love, considered myself to possess in any measurable quantity at all.

And golly, does having a dog change the relationship the British urban flâneur has with the rest of society. The British, especially those living south of Watford, and above all those in London, do not recognise other people’s existence unless they want to buy something off them or stop them standing on the left of the sodding escalator, you idiot. This all changes when you have a dog with you. You are now fair game for any dog-fancier to come up to you and ask the most personal questions about the dog’s history and genealogy. They don’t even have to have a dog of their own; but if you do, you are obliged by law to stop and exchange dog facts.

My knowledge of dog facts is scant, extending not much further beyond them having a leg at each corner and chasing squirrels, so I leave the talking to K—, who, being a friendly sort who could probably talk dog all day long if pressed, is quite happy to do that. I look meanwhile in a kind of blank wonder at whichever brand of dog we’ve just encountered, and marvel not only at the incredible diversity of dog that abounds in the world, but at a realisation that had hitherto escaped me: almost half of London seems to have one.

And here’s the really interesting thing. When I have the leash, the city looks at me another way. And, specifically, the young women of the city. Having reached the age when one ceases to be visible to any member of the opposite sex under 30, I find, all of a sudden, that I exist again. Women of improbable beauty look at Trude, who looks far more Yorkie than chihuahua, apart from when she does that thing with the ears, and then look at me, and smile unguardedly and unironically, signalling to me that they have decided I am a Good Thing and would, were their schedules not preventing them, like to chat and get to know me and the dog a bit better.

I wonder at first if I am imagining this. I mention it to K—.

“Oh yes,” she says, “it’s a thing. My friend P-J regularly borrows her when he wants to get laid. He reckons he’s had about 12 shags thanks to her in the last six months. The problems only arise when they come back again and notice the dog isn’t there.”

I do the maths. Twelve in six months! That’s one a fortnight. An idea begins to form in my mind. I suppose you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out what it is. But no. I couldn’t. Could I?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism