How Osborne manipulated spending to claim the deficit is falling

The IFS warns that the £10.9bn underspend is not an "economically optimal allocation of spending".

One of the biggest surprises in George Osborne's Budget speech was his announcement that the deficit is forecast to fall this year (although excluding all "special factors" it's actually set to rise). With borrowing so far this year £5.3bn higher than in 2012, it seemed there was no escape for the Chancellor. 

For the first time since he entered the Treasury, he would be forced to announce that the deficit was expected to rise in annual terms and Ed Balls would have his revenge (Osborne memorably bamboozled the shadow chancellor in last year's Autumn Statement by banking the 4G auction receipts early).

But yesterday, against expectations, he was able to announce that the deficit was forecast to be £120.9bn this year (2012-13), £100m less than last year (2011-12). So how did he do it? The answers are becoming clearer today. First, Osborne is forcing government departments to underspend by a remarkable £10.9bn in the final months of this financial year (including a £2.2bn NHS underspend). While some of this underspend is permanent, the rest, as the OBR document noted (see p.93) has been moved forward into future years. Public spending, it appears, has been manipulated in order to allow Osborne to boast that the deficit has fallen again. 

At its traditional post-Budget briefing, the Institute for Fiscal Studies called the Chancellor out on his financial trickery. Noting that the £10.9bn was around double the average of the previous five years (see graph), IFS head Paul Johnson said

There is every indication that the numbers have been carefully managed with a close eye on the headline borrowing figures for this year. It is unlikely that this has led either to an economically optimal allocation of spending across years or to a good use of time by officials and ministers.
 
That the deficit is forecast to shrink by the minimum amount required for Osborne to claim that borrowing has fallen (£100m) is clear evidence that the underspend was motivated by political calculations, rather than economic ones.
 
As well as squeezing Whitehall spending, Osborne also saved money by, in the words of the OBR, delaying payments to some "international institutions" until next year. When I spoke to the Treasury press office, they cited the example of a £15m payment by the Department for International Development to Green Africa Power. The spokesman refused to confirm whether the institutions affected included the UN and the World Bank. Regardless, it is now clear that Osborne's creative accounting puts Gordon Brown to shame. 
Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne leaves number 11 Downing Street in central London. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times