How the coalition is failing to stand up for consumers

The government has consistently resisted measures which would tackle the living standards crisis.

Last month, David Cameron tweeted that "we are on the right track - building an economy for hardworking people". But people across the UK won’t feel that at all – they only thing they can feel is their pockets being hit. Average earnings are £1,477 a year lower than they were at the time of the last general election. This means that, in real terms, workers are on average earning today the same as they were in 2001.

And the promises were so big. Before the 2010 general election, the Tories said: "We want to see an economy where not just our standard of living, but everyone’s quality of life, rises steadily and sustainably."

It has done anything but. Working families are worse off with energy bills having risen by £300, while the profits of the energy companies have soared. It is yet another year of inflation-busting fare rises will just add to the pressure on household budgets. Instead of standing up for hard-pressed commuters, this government is siding with the private train companies and helping them to increase their profits at the expense of passengers.

Consumers are a key driver of the economy, creating the demand for goods and services which provide jobs, stimulate innovation, create wealth and tax take. In a functioning economy, knowledgeable, informed and empowered consumers can drive up standards, supply and value for money as well.

In government, Labour recognised this and strived to be the party of consumers for the benefit of the economy. We built consumer interests into regulation, supported Trading Standards and created Consumer Focus which was respected by all stakeholders. We got a fairer deal for purchasers of energy and other basic necessities, and ensured an ever increasing standard of living - something this government has failed to emulate, as prices rise higher than incomes.

So what are ministers doing for consumers? Despite the rhetoric, the government’s recently published Draft Consumer Rights Bill, is little more than window dressing. Whilst steps to cover areas such digital downloads are welcome, reflecting arguments which we have been making on the need for protections for consumers in new markets, the Bill is a huge missed opportunity to help hard-pressed consumers by ensuring a fair deal on energy prices, tackling high rail fares and challenging the cost of living crisis engulfing Britain.

On top of this, ministers are ignoring the other pieces of the jigsaw such as enforcement, advice and funding. Their changes to consumer protection since 2010 have been muddled and have created uncertainty and confusion: They’ve abolished Consumer Focus and then set-up a new body – Consumer Futures – to do the same job. This is alongside a slashing of funding to local authorities which has significantly impacted Trading Standards, making it harder for consumers to uphold their rights and seek redress. Aggregate trading standards funding has dropped from £245m to £142m since 2010, with hundreds of jobs being lost estimated to amount to around 15% of the total workforce upholding and enforcing consumer rights. And through the Bill, the government now want to remove the ability of Trading Standards officers to make inspections unannounced. In response, the Trading Standards Institute has said it "would urge the government to refrain from removing the power of trading standards officers to enter premises unannounced. It is an essential tool for them to use and it is vital that when complaints are made, councils can investigate and tackle the problem immediately."

Ministers’ rejection of our calls for better standards in the private rented housing sector and their refusal to adopt a Code of Conduct for the banking and insurance industry reflect how they are standing up for the wrong people and their lack of concern for helping hard-pressed families. Similarly, the limited collective redress measures proposed in the Bill fall short of what groups of consumers across the UK need to obtain effective consumer redress when they have been wronged.

Simply, this government has resisted measures which would tackle the real living standards crisis which people are facing.

However, Labour is clear – if in government we would be taking action to implement a One Nation programme to boost people’s living standards. We need a tough new energy watchdog to force suppliers to pass price cuts onto consumers, and to ensure the over-75s automatically get the cheapest tariff.

Likewise, we’ve seen rail fares up 9% a year, after the government allowed train operators to increase some fares by up 5% above the supposed ‘cap’. We would be put passengers first by banning train companies from increasing fares above the cap set by ministers so that fares would be rising by no more than 1 per cent above inflation under Labour in each year of this parliament

And we are already examining plans to bolster collective action, empowering consumers so they can club together more easily to seek redress, as part of our policy review, led by consumer champion Ed Mayo last year. During the passage of the Bill, we will be pressing ministers for a strong, accessible collective redress mechanism, one which mirrors the Portuguese and Australian models that remove the legal excesses and is not a US-style class action, where litigation is dominant.

We know that David Cameron and his government won’t stand up for consumers. It’s time for him to wake up and adopt Labour’s plan to help working people – not keep filling the pockets of those at the top that exacerbates the cost of living crisis.

David Cameron speaks during a press conference at the end of the G20 Leaders' Summit on September 6, 2013 in St. Petersburg, Russia. Photograph: Getty Images.

Ian Murray is the Labour MP for Edinburgh South. He was previously shadow minister for employment relations, consumer and postal affairs, and shadow secretary of state for Scotland between May 2015 and June 2016. 

 

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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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