George Osborne during a visit to the Royal Mint on March 25, 2014 in Llantrisant, Wales. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Osborne's U-turn on RBS bonuses has undermined his credibility

After voting against a cap as recently as January, the Chancellor has taken fright. 

For months, George Osborne has been battling in the European court to prevent the introduction of an EU cap on bank bonuses. But today at least, he's done the reverse. Under the new rules, banks are required to limit bonuses to 100 per cent of basic salaries unless they win shareholder approval for a cap of 200 per cent. It was a loophole that RBS intended to exploit in its pay-outs to executives. But rather than allowing the bank to do so (as its opposition to the cap would suggest), the government, as RBS's majority shareholder, has vetoed the plan. 

Abandoning the pretence that UK Financial Investments, which controls the state's 81 per cent share, acts independently of ministers, a Treasury spokesman said: "Under the new strategy set out by RBS's chief executive, Ross McEwan, RBS is heading in the right direction, but it has not yet completed its restructuring and remains a majority publicly owned bank. So an increase to the bonus cap cannot be justified and the government made clear it would not have supported such a proposal. The government therefore agrees that retaining the cap at the default ratio of 1:1 and RBS's proposed pay policy is appropriate."

In other words, far from opposing the EU cap, Osborne has acted entirely in accordance with its principles. It is a double standard that Labour has been quick to pounce on, noting that ministers voted against the party's motion to impose a minimum cap on RBS just a few months ago. Shadow Treasury minister Cathy Jamieson said:  

George Osborne is in a terrible muddle over bankers' bonuses. He is spending taxpayer's money on a legal fight in Brussels against the bonus cap and yet imposing the minimum cap at RBS.

The Government has bowed to pressure on RBS and finally admitted that bonuses of two times salary would be unacceptable at what remains a Bank in Government ownership. They voted against Labour's motion to impose the minimum cap at RBS in January, but have now been forced to reverse their position.

But confusingly at the same time the Chancellor is supporting higher bonuses in Lloyds Bank and elsewhere.

People who are facing a cost-of-living crisis are rightly angry about excessive rewards for failure in banking over recent years. The Chancellor should accept the logic of today's announcement and drop his legal action to block the bonus cap.

The Treasury has sought to justify the inconsistency by arguing that the large taxpayer stake in RBS means bonuses must be restrained. A Treasury spokesman said of the differing treatment of Lloyds and RBS: "It [Lloyds] is majority private-sector owned and the government's shareholding in the bank is now down to less than a quarter. Reflecting these different circumstances, the government will use its shareholder stake to support setting the bonus cap at the maximum allowable ratio of 2:1, in line with all other majority privately owned banks." 

But as so often in the case of Osborne, this decision has more to do with politics than policy. Ministers oppose a bonus cap on the grounds that, as Andrew Bailey, the head of the Prudential Regulation Authority, has said, any limit will "just increase base pay, reduce claw back and undermine financial stability". But all of these objections apply in the case of RBS. The bank responded to the government's veto by announcing that its new CEO Ross McEwan would receive an extra £1m a year in "allowances", doubling his salary. 

The reality is that the political cost of allowing the 81 per cent-taxpayer owned RBS to pay full bonuses was simply too high for Osborne to bear. Labour would have leapt on the move as further evidence of the Tories "standing up for the wrong people" and defending the super-rich. But by choosing political opportunism over intellectual consistency, Osborne has undermined his credibility with the free-market right. 

P.S. Then again, the Chancellor has never been one for consistency. Back in 2009, he declared: "It is totally unacceptable for bank bonuses to be paid on the back of taxpayer guarantees. It must stop." 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear