Ed Miliband speaks at the Science Museum on July 3, 2014. Photograph: Getty Images.
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PMQs review: Miliband exploits the coalition divide on anti-terror powers

The Labour leader drove a wedge between Cameron and Clegg on civil liberties.

After the beheading of a second US journalist by Isis, and the threat to murder a British hostage, the first PMQs of the new term was an appropriately sombre occasion. David Cameron and Ed Miliband both delivered powerful condemnations of the terrorist group, the former declaring "A country like ours will not be cowed by these barbaric killers" and the latter speaking of a "universal sense of revulsion". 

After asking Cameron what the UK was doing to mobilise nations in the region against Isis and how it would use its chairing of the UN Security Council (avoiding the issue of whether the UK will take part in US-led airstrikes), Miliband moved on to the thorny issue of the coalition's domestic response. After the confusion that followed Cameron's statement on anti-terror powers on Monday, with the Lib Dems casting doubt over the plans announced by the PM, Miliband challenged him to confirm whether the reintroduction of relocation powers for terrorist suspects (forcing them to move home) would go ahead. In response, Cameron said that "it will go ahead", despite the Lib Dems briefing on Monday that "We have not definitively signed up to introducing relocation powers. We have agreed to look in detail at the options". While repeating his promise of cross-party talks on the issue, the PM's words appeared to be another attempt to bounce the Lib Dems into support. 

Miliband then asked Cameron whether his proposal to block British jihadists from returning home would be legally permissible (Clegg commented yesterday that "At the moment it is not obvious what one can do in a way which is consistent with our legal obligations". He replied: "I do believe it is legally permissible, but it’s going to require some work". In other words, the situation is no clearer than it was earlier this week. But Miliband's intervention effectively drove a wedge between the coalition parties on civil liberties. On an issue as significant as national security, the impression of a divided government is damaging for Cameron. 

The two other notable points from the session were the passion with which Cameron made the case against Scottish independence, and the increasingly perilous position of the Speaker, John Bercow. On Scotland, after a YouGov poll showed the Yes campaign just six points behind, the PM denounced the SNP's scaremongering over the NHS ("The only person who can privatise the NHS in Scotland is Alex Salmond") and its "chilling" threat to default on its share of the national debt.

In response to Tory MP Edward Leigh, who warned that a Yes vote would be "a national humiliation of catastrophic proportions" and who urged the party leaders to drop everything and stand "shoulder to shoulder" in defence of the Union, Cameron said: "The leaders of the parties in this House have all put aside their differences and said ‘in spite of the political differences we have, we all agree about one thing – not just that Scotland is better off inside the UK, the UK is better off with Scotland." Despite his party's enfeebled status in Scotland, today's exchanges were a reminder that Cameron is one of the most powerful defenders of the Union. 

After PMQs had concluded, Bercow faced a barrage of points of order from Tory MPs over the disputed appointment of Carol Mills as Clerk of the House. Such was the ferocity with which they attacked the Speaker (who many have long loathed since his election under Labour) that Edward Leigh was forced to urge the House to respect his authority. While most believe Bercow will ride the row out, his position has never looked so weak; irrevocable damage has now been done to his standing in the Commons.

Update: The Lib Dems have just issued a response to Cameron's comments on anti-terror powers. On blocking British suspects from returning home, a spokesman said:

"This issue remains under discussion in government and we have always said that we would be prepared to sign up to something that was both legal and practical."

"This is a very legally complicated issue and needs to be examined very closely."

And on relocation powers, he said:

“The issue of introducing relocation powers remains under discussion in government. We have agreed to look in detail at the options available to us.

“The Independent Reviewer of Terrorism Legislation, David Anderson, whose views we respect, recently recommended that the Government look at locational constraints that can be put on TPIMs suspects to make it easier to disrupt their networks and to reduce the risk of absconding.

“As a result, the Liberal Democrats are willing to look in more detail at options, including at whether the use of exclusion zones under the existing legislation could be expanded to meet the concerns that Anderson raises.”

As I expected, both suggest a far more ambiguous situation than Cameron's words implied. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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The dog at the end of the lead may be small, but in fact what I’m walking is a hound of love

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel.

There is a new, hairy face in the Hovel. I seem to have become a temporary co-owner of an enthusiastic Chorkie. A Chorkie, in case you’re not quite up to speed with your canine crossbreeds, is a mixture of a chihuahua and a Yorkshire Terrier, and while my friend K— busies herself elsewhere I am looking after this hound.

This falls squarely into the category of Things I Never Thought I’d Do. I’m a cat person, taking my cue from their idleness, cruelty and beauty. Dogs, with their loyalty, their enthusiasm and their barking, are all a little too much for me, even after the first drink of the day. But the dog is here, and I am in loco parentis, and it is up to me to make sure that she is looked after and entertained, and that there is no repetition of the unfortunate accident that occurred outside my housemate’s room, and which needed several tissues and a little poo baggie to make good.

As it is, the dog thinks I am the bee’s knees. To give you an idea of how beeskneesian it finds me, it is licking my feet as I write. “All right,” I feel like saying to her, “you don’t have to go that far.”

But it’s quite nice to be worshipped like this, I have decided. She has also fallen in love with the Hovel, and literally writhes with delight at the stinky cushions on the sofa. Named after Trude Fleischmann, the lesbian erotic photographer of the Twenties, Thirties and Forties, she has decided, with admirable open-mindedness, that I am the Leader of the Pack. When I take the lead, K— gets a little vexed.

“She’s walking on a loose lead, with you,” K— says. “She never does that when I’m walking her.” I don’t even know what that means, until I have a think and work it out.

“She’s also walking to heel with you,” K— adds, and once again I have to join a couple of mental dots before the mists part. It would appear that when it comes to dogs, I have a natural competence and authority, qualities I had never, not even in my most deranged flights of self-love, considered myself to possess in any measurable quantity at all.

And golly, does having a dog change the relationship the British urban flâneur has with the rest of society. The British, especially those living south of Watford, and above all those in London, do not recognise other people’s existence unless they want to buy something off them or stop them standing on the left of the sodding escalator, you idiot. This all changes when you have a dog with you. You are now fair game for any dog-fancier to come up to you and ask the most personal questions about the dog’s history and genealogy. They don’t even have to have a dog of their own; but if you do, you are obliged by law to stop and exchange dog facts.

My knowledge of dog facts is scant, extending not much further beyond them having a leg at each corner and chasing squirrels, so I leave the talking to K—, who, being a friendly sort who could probably talk dog all day long if pressed, is quite happy to do that. I look meanwhile in a kind of blank wonder at whichever brand of dog we’ve just encountered, and marvel not only at the incredible diversity of dog that abounds in the world, but at a realisation that had hitherto escaped me: almost half of London seems to have one.

And here’s the really interesting thing. When I have the leash, the city looks at me another way. And, specifically, the young women of the city. Having reached the age when one ceases to be visible to any member of the opposite sex under 30, I find, all of a sudden, that I exist again. Women of improbable beauty look at Trude, who looks far more Yorkie than chihuahua, apart from when she does that thing with the ears, and then look at me, and smile unguardedly and unironically, signalling to me that they have decided I am a Good Thing and would, were their schedules not preventing them, like to chat and get to know me and the dog a bit better.

I wonder at first if I am imagining this. I mention it to K—.

“Oh yes,” she says, “it’s a thing. My friend P-J regularly borrows her when he wants to get laid. He reckons he’s had about 12 shags thanks to her in the last six months. The problems only arise when they come back again and notice the dog isn’t there.”

I do the maths. Twelve in six months! That’s one a fortnight. An idea begins to form in my mind. I suppose you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out what it is. But no. I couldn’t. Could I?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism