Why a married couples' tax allowance could be deadly for the Tories

Clegg's argument that any spare money should be used to support "all working families" is a powerful dividing line with the Conservatives.

After three years in government, it is only now that David Cameron is talking seriously about introducing a married couples' tax allowance, promising to announce plans "very shortly". The proposal was included in the 2010 Conservative manifesto and the Coalition Agreement (which gave the Lib Dems the right to abstain), so what's taken him so long? The reason for the delay, I suspect, is that influential Tories, most notably George Osborne (one of the most socially liberal MPs), recognise that it is a profoundly flawed measure. 

As Nick Clegg observed at his press conference this morning, a policy that "basically says to people who are not married: you will pay more tax than people who are married" will seem odd to many voters. Clegg's argument that a spare £550m would be better spent "on all working families" is a powerful dividing line with the Tories. 

It's true that a YouGov poll in January found that 53 per cent of the public support the introduction of a  tax allowance, with just 36 per cent opposed, but this total is likely to fall when voters find out that less than a third of married couples would benefit. As outlined in the Tory manifesto, only those couples in which one member is not using all of their personal tax allowance would gain (they could transfer £750 of their unused allowance to their spouse), with higher-rate taxpayers excluded. The policy could, of course, be redesigned so that all or most married couples benefit but this, not least for the fiscally conservative Osborne, would be prohibitively expensive. Clegg's argument that any spare money would be better used on raising the personal allowance is likely to resonate.

In his recent GQ article, Andy Coulson described the perception that David Cameron does not like single parents as "electoral halitosis", but this policy unambiguously discriminates against them. Among those who also don't gain from the policy, as Don't Judge My Family notes, are widows and widowers, people who leave abusive relationships and working couples. The policy will also alienate the young, socially liberal voters that the Tories need to win over if they are to ever secure a majority (18-24-year-olds opposed the policy by 40-36 in the YouGov poll). 

In reaffirming his support for an allowance, Cameron may enhance his standing with his party and with traditional Conservative voters but only at the cost of further limiting the appeal of the Tory brand. 

The decoration of a wedding cake is seen at the wedding fair on January 8, 2012 in the western German city of Essen. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood