Ed Miliband and David Cameron during the service to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II at Westminster Abbey, on June 4, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.
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There's no gratitude in politics - why the recovery might not save the Tories

If the debate moves on to more fertile Labour territory such as public services the Conservatives will likely struggle.

One of the big political surprises in Britain’s history came less than two months after VE Day, when the triumphant war leader, Winston Churchill, ran for re-election against the cerebral and relatively uncharismatic Clement Attlee. Churchill was defeated in a landslide. Historians mostly agree that whilst Churchill’s wartime record was respected, voters, and particularly returning soldiers, trusted Attlee’s Labour Party to provide the jobs, healthcare and welfare state that would make the peace worth living in. The UK’s recent struggles have been economic. But just as the ungrateful voters of 1945 turfed out Churchill, so the voters of 2015 could do the same to their own (economic) saviours, David Cameron and George Osborne.

The UK’s recovery is now in its second year, but it has yet to have a significant effect on the Conservatives’ popularity: in the latest poll their share is 28 per cent, 4 per cnet behind the Labour Party, which has maintained a similar lead since May 2013. One potential explanation is the stagnation in the real incomes of voters, as inflation has outstripped wage growth. That trend looks to be coming to an end, however, potentially ushering in a year of real wage growth coupled with a booming housing market, which could lead many voters to feel wealthier than at any point since the last election.

That will likely aid the Conservatives’ standing heading into 2015 and the polls are likely to narrow (as they do in the run-up to most general elections). But perhaps the Conservatives should be careful what they wish for. James Carville’s oft-misquoted campaign memo, "the economy, stupid", does not refer to an immutable law of politics. The economy is often the most important issue in elections, but by no means always. Indeed, when the economy was doing well, as it was in the UK from '96 -'07, other issues like healthcare and education took on the greatest salience (Chart 5).

Economic optimism in the UK is now at its highest level since records began in 1979. The salience of the economy as an issue is falling fast, whilst that of the NHS and education, Labour’s strongest suits, is rising. The significant lead the Conservative Party has on economic management looks likely to endure in the absence of an unforeseen downturn before the next election. But it also looks likely to become less important to the result.

The big battles of the next election will be fought over control of the agenda. If the health of the economy continues to fade as an issue and the debate moves on to more fertile Labour territory like the provision of public services then the Conservatives will likely struggle to overtake Ed Miliband’s party. The latest debacle over extremism in schools is just the kind of distraction that plays into Labour’s hands and just the kind the Tories have been instructed by campaign manager Lynton Crosby to avoid.

The saving graces for the Conservatives have long been assumed to be Ed Miliband’s weak personal brand and his party’s lingering association with economic failure. Yet the Conservatives’ own vulnerabilities look just as concerning. Cameron’s personal brand is strong but his party's remains stubbornly off-putting to much of the electorate. Forty per cent say they would never vote Conservative against 33 per cent who would not vote Labour. The Conservatives face a huge disadvantage under the current electoral system, which could see Labour become the largest party even if it loses the popular vote by up to 3 per cent. And of course there’s Ukip, which, while it takes votes from all parties, stands to be significantly more damaging to the Conservatives than to anyone else.

The European elections (where Ukip came first) probably showed the crest of the party’s popularity, at least for the next year or so, but the local elections, held on the same day, indicated that the party could have a disruptive effect in a variety of key swing seats, particularly in Essex and Thurrock, where Labour must win seats to become the biggest party.

A "super poll" of swing constituencies commissioned by Tory peer Lord Ashcroft just before the local elections indicated that high Ukip shares in areas like Thurrock would gift those seats to Labour, resulting in a majority for the party of 83. It should be noted, however, that a similar poll held in 2009 projected a Conservative majority of 70 which never materialised.

So what to conclude? More positive economic news should benefit the Conservatives, but could well prove a double-edged blade if voters conclude that it’s safe to switch to the party they prefer with cherished public services. Between now and the election, the Conservatives will do all they can to ensure the economy remains foremost in people’s minds, which is why the chart below is a key one to watch. If Labour can succeed in shifting the debate into other areas, as it previously accomplished with its proposal to freeze energy prices, then David Cameron may soon find himself joining the ranks of respected ex-prime ministers.

Richard Mylles is a political analyst at Absolute Strategy Research, an independent investment consultancy

Chart 5: Most important issues facing the UK

Source: ASR Ltd. / Ipsos Mori

Richard Mylles is a political analyst at Absolute Strategy Research, an independent consultancy based in London.

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The Tinder dating app isn't just about sex – it's about friendship, too. And sex

The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, as I found out quickly while using the app.

The first time I met someone using Tinder, the free dating app that requires users to swipe left for “no” and right for “yes” before enabling new “matches” to chat, it was an unqualified success. I should probably qualify that. I was newly single after five years in a committed relationship and wasn’t looking for anything more than fun, friendship and, well, who knows. A few weeks earlier I had tried to give my number to a girl in a cinema café in Brixton. I wrote it on a postcard I’d been using as a bookmark. She said she had a boyfriend, but wanted to keep the postcard. I had no date and I lost my page.

My Tinder date was a master’s student from Valencia called Anna (her name wasn’t really Anna, of course, I’m not a sociopath). When I arrived at the appointed meeting place, she told me I was far more handsome IRL (“in real life”) than my pictures suggested. I was flattered and full of praise for the directness of continental Europeans but also thought sadly to myself: “If only the same could be said about you.”

Anna and I became friends, at least for a while. The date wasn’t a success in the traditional sense of leading us into a contract based on exclusivity, an accumulating cache of resentments and a mortgage, but it had put me back in the game (an appropriate metaphor – people speak regularly of “playing” with the app).

According to Sean Rad, the co-founder who launched Tinder in late 2012, the service was invented for people like me. “It was really a way to overcome my own problems,” he told the editor of Cosmopolitan at an event in London last month. “It was weird to me, to start a conversation [with a stranger]. Once I had an introduction I was fine, but it’s that first step. It’s difficult for a lot of people.” After just one outing, I’d learned two fundamental lessons about the world of online dating: pretty much everyone has at least one decent picture of themselves, and meeting women using a so-called hook-up app is seldom straightforwardly about sex.

Although sometimes it is. My second Tinder date took place in Vienna. I met Louisa (ditto, name) outside some notable church or other one evening while visiting on holiday (Tinder tourism being, in my view, a far more compelling way to get to know a place than a cumbersome Lonely Planet guide). We drank cocktails by the Danube and rambled across the city before making the romantic decision to stay awake all night, as she had to leave early the next day to go hiking with friends. It was just like the Richard Linklater movie Before Sunrise – something I said out loud more than a few times as the Aperol Spritzes took their toll.

When we met up in London a few months later, Louisa and I decided to skip the second part of Linklater’s beautiful triptych and fast-track our relationship straight to the third, Before Midnight, which takes place 18 years after the protagonists’ first meet in Vienna, and have begun to discover that they hate each others’ guts.

Which is one of the many hazards of the swiping life: unlike with older, web-based platforms such as Match.com or OkCupid, which require a substantial written profile, Tinder users know relatively little about their prospective mates. All that’s necessary is a Facebook account and a single photograph. University, occupation, a short bio and mutual Facebook “likes” are optional (my bio is made up entirely of emojis: the pizza slice, the dancing lady, the stack of books).

Worse still, you will see people you know on Tinder – that includes colleagues, neighbours and exes – and they will see you. Far more people swipe out of boredom or curiosity than are ever likely to want to meet up, in part because swiping is so brain-corrosively addictive.

While the company is cagey about its user data, we know that Tinder has been downloaded over 100 million times and has produced upwards of 11 billion matches – though the number of people who have made contact will be far lower. It may sound like a lot but the Tinder user-base remains stuck at around the 50 million mark: a self-selecting coterie of mainly urban, reasonably affluent, generally white men and women, mostly aged between 18 and 34.

A new generation of apps – such as Hey! Vina and Skout – is seeking to capitalise on Tinder’s reputation as a portal for sleaze, a charge Sean Rad was keen to deny at the London event. Tinder is working on a new iteration, Tinder Social, for groups of friends who want to hang out with other groups on a night out, rather than dating. This makes sense for a relatively fresh business determined to keep on growing: more people are in relationships than out of them, after all.

After two years of using Tinder, off and on, last weekend I deleted the app. I had been visiting a friend in Sweden, and took it pretty badly when a Tinder date invited me to a terrible nightclub, only to take a few looks at me and bolt without even bothering to fabricate an excuse. But on the plane back to London the next day, a strange thing happened. Before takeoff, the woman sitting beside me started crying. I assumed something bad had happened but she explained that she was terrified of flying. Almost as terrified, it turned out, as I am. We wound up holding hands through a horrific patch of mid-air turbulence, exchanged anecdotes to distract ourselves and even, when we were safely in sight of the ground, a kiss.

She’s in my phone, but as a contact on Facebook rather than an avatar on a dating app. I’ll probably never see her again but who knows. People connect in strange new ways all the time. The lines between sex, love and friendship are blurrier than ever, but you can be sure that if you look closely at the lines, you’ll almost certainly notice the pixels.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad