Osborne's new spending cap points to more welfare cuts

The Chancellor's plan to limit "Annually Managed Expenditure" shows how a Tory government would seek to further curb benefit spending.

George Osborne has already capped benefits for out-of-work families at £26,000 a year, now he's proposing to go further and introduce a cap on total welfare spending. One of the most significant announcements in the Budget was that the Chancellor is planning "a new limit" on what's called "Annually Managed Expenditure" (AME). This is the area of spending concerned with non-departmental items such as welfare payments, debt interest and EU budget contributions (which account for around 50 per cent of all state spending). It is the automatic rise in the first two, in particular, that has made it so hard for the government to stick to its deficit reduction targets. Osborne is now proposing to end this fiscal irresponsibility (as he sees it) by introducing a limit on "a significant proportion" of this expenditure. 

In practice, this will almost certainly mean even greater welfare cuts. Although Osborne said that the new cap would be set out in a way "that allows the automatic stabilisers to operate", he added that it would "bring real control to areas of public spending that had been out of control." And since the government has less influence over debt interest payments (the markets decide those) and EU budget contributions (the EU 27 decide those) than it does over welfare spending, it is benefits that will bear the brunt of the squeeze.

The Treasury is briefing that the new cap will not affect the government's plan to avoid further welfare cuts in this summer's 2015-16 Spending Review (a victory for the Lib Dems) but it is a signal that a future Conservative government (or a future Tory-led coalition) would seek to further curb welfare spending. What form could this take? Osborne is likely to extend the 1 per cent cap on working-age benefit increases beyond 2015-16 and to look again at measures such as the abolition of housing benefit for the under-25s and the restriction of child benefit for families with more than two children.

Other policies trailed by David Cameron in his welfare speech last summer included:

- Preventing teenagers from claiming benefits as soon as they leave school.

- Paying benefits in kind (like free school meals), rather than in cash.

- Reducing benefit levels for the long-term unemployed.

- A lower housing benefit cap. Cameron said that the current limit of £20,000 was still too high. 

I expect some or all of these are under consideration for the next Conservative manifesto. 

A young boy plays football in a run down street with boarded up houses in the Govan area of Glasgow, Scotland. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Women aren’t supposed to blame their foulest moods on their hormones. It’s time we did

It’s our job to play down the, “I’m pissy and want chocolate because I’m getting my period” thing as much as possible.

“NEVER CALL ME AGAIN. EVER,” I bellow at some hapless cock dribble called Brian or Craig who is sitting in a call centre somewhere. It’s too bad we haven’t been able to slam down phones since 1997. No matter how hard I jab my index finger into the red “end call” icon on my iPhone, it doesn’t have the same expulsive effect.

I’d put hard earned cash on Brian/Craig’s next thought being this:

Someone’s time of the month, eh?”

And if so, he’s bang on the money. I’m about to period so hard, the shockwaves from my convulsing uterus will be felt in France. Maybe Brian/Craig shrugs too. Right now, it kills me to think of him shrugging. I need to have ruined his day. I need for my banshee shriek to have done, at the very least, some superficial damage to his eardrum. I need to have made this guy suffer. And I need a cake. A big cake. A child’s birthday cake shaped like Postman Pat. A child’s birthday cake that I’ve stolen, thereby turning his special day into something he’ll have to discuss with a therapist in years to come. I’d punch fist-shaped craters into Pat’s smug face, then eat him in handfuls. All the while screaming unintelligible incantations at the mere concept of Brian/Craig.

Brian/Craig works for one of those companies that call you up and try to convince you you’ve been in a car accident and are owed compensation. Brian/Craig is a personification of that smell when you open a packet of ham. I’ve told Brian/Craig and his colleagues to stop calling me at least twice a week for the past six months. Unfortunately for Brian/Craig, this time he’s caught me at my premenstrual worst.

There’s an unspoken rule that women aren’t supposed to blame their foulest moods on hormones. Premenstrual hysteria (literal hysteria, because wombs) is the butt of so many sexist jokes. It’s our job to play down the, “I’m pissy and want chocolate because I’m getting my period” thing as much as possible. It’s the patriarchy that’s making us cranky. It’s the gender pay gap. It’s mannequins shaped like famine victims silently tutting at out fat arses. And we’re not “cranky” anyway – babies are cranky – we’re angry. And of course I’m angry about those things. I’m a woman, after all. But, if truth be told, I’m cranky too. And, if even more truth be told, it is because of my hormones.

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) is PMS cubed. For years now, it’s been making me want to put my fist through a wall every time my period approaches. Take the sensation of watching a particularly jumpy horror film: that humming, clenched-jaw tension, in preparation for the next scary thing to happen. Now replace fear with rage and you’ll have some idea of what PMDD feels like. Oh and throw in insatiable hunger and, for some reason, horniness. For at least a day out of every month, I feel incapable of any activity that isn’t crisp eating, rage wanking or screaming into a pillow.

And if, like me, you also suffer from anxiety and depression, trying to detect where the mental health stuff stops and the hormone stuff starts becomes utterly Sisyphean. Then again, the extent to which the hormones themselves can fuck with your mental health tends to be underestimated quite woefully. It’s just a bit of PMS, right? Have a Galaxy and a bubble bath, and get a grip. Be like one of those advert women who come home from work all stressed, then eat some really nice yoghurt and close their eyes like, “Mmmm, this yoghurt is actual sex,” and suddenly everything’s fine.

For too long, hormone-related health issues (female ones in particular) have been belittled and ignored. There’s only so much baths and chocolate can do for me when I’m premenstrual. I wasn’t kidding about the Postman Pat cake, by the way. And, Brian/Craig, in the vastly unlikely event that you’re reading this – yeah, it was my time of the month when you called. And if I could’ve telepathically smacked you over the head with a phone book, believe me, I would’ve done.

Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.