The growth-shaped hole in the Queen's Speech

There was little in the speech to revive growth and employment this side of the election. But can Labour take advantage?

The Queen's Speech was proof that David Cameron has taken Lynton Crosby's advice to scrape "the barnacles off the boat" and focus on what he regards as voters' core concerns: the economy, immigration, welfare reform and education. Out went the international aid bill, the "snoopers' charter", minimum alcohol pricing and plain packaging for cigarettes. In came bills limiting immigrants' access to public services and benefits, making it easier to deport foreign criminals and giving the government new powers to tackle anti-social behaviour. In another concession to the right, the speech made no reference to the equal marriage bill (which was introduced in the last session and is being carried over), although the energy bill, which is similarly being carried over, was mentioned. 

David Cameron and Nick Clegg will point to bills introducing a £72,000 cap on social care costs, a single-tier pension scheme and High Speed Two as proof that the coalition is not short on ambition. But the social care and pensions measures aren't due to take effect until 2016 (so after the next general election), while the high speed rail project won't be completed until 2033. In the short-term, both Cameron and Clegg's fortunes will hinge on the performance of the economy, and here the speech was decidedly lacking. 

"My Government’s legislative programme will continue to focus on building a stronger economy," it read (almost as if the double-dip recession, the loss of Britain's AAA credit rating and the £245bn increase in forecast borrowing never happened), promising "the creation of more jobs and opportunities". But aside from the new £2,000 Employment Allowance for small businessses, there was little with the potential to stimulate growth and job creation. It is here that Labour will concentrate its attack in this afternoon's debate. Last week, Ed Miliband unveiled an alternative Queen's Speech, which included the creation of a British Investment Bank, a temporary VAT cut, a one year national insurance holiday for small firms and a jobs guarantee for every adult out of work for more than two years and every young person out of work for more than a year. But Labour's reluctance to make the case for a short-term increase in borrowing (highlighted by Peter Hain today) has left it struggling to take advantage of the coalition's inertia. After a mixed set of local election results and the first hints of a Tory recovery since the "omnishambles" Budget, Miliband needs a strong performance today to earn him the political breathing space he requires. 

David Cameron and Ed Miliband walk through the Members' Lobby to listen to the Queen's Speech. 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