Ukip leader Nigel Farage speaks to a journalist in Rochester on November 21, 2014. Photograph: Getty Images.
Show Hide image

The Tories have ruled out a deal with Ukip - and they're right to do so

The Conservatives are right to deny the toxic suggestion that they would shack up with Farage. 

Conservative chairman Grant Shapps's speech this morning was designed to put the spotlight on "30 days of Labour chaos". But it is his comments on Ukip that have attracted most attention. Asked whether he could rule out a coalition with the party in the event of a hung parliament, he replied: "I can rule out - We are not going to do pacts and deals with Ukip".  Shapps's unambiguous response contrasts with David Cameron's equivocation earlier this month ("I don’t want pacts or deals with anybody," was his carefully worded response). But Conservative sources have confirmed that this was not a slip of the tongue: they really are ruling out any arrangement with Ukip (be it a coalition or a confidence and supply agreement). 

For several reasons, they are right to do so. First, the earlier refusal to rule out a deal with Ukip had the potential to inflict further damage on an already tarnished Conservative brand. While support for Nigel Farage's party has surged since 2010 (when it polled just three per cent), it remains toxic to many voters, not least those the Tories need to win over if they are ever to win a majority again. Polling has consistently shown, for instance, that ethnic minority voters - just 16 per cent of whom voted Conservative in 2010 -  have an understandably negative view of Ukip. YouGov last year found that a quarter of current Conservative supporters wouldn’t vote for the party if it entered a pact with Ukip, with 5 per cent switching to Labour, 4 per cent to the Lib Dems and 16 per cent abstaining. In the seats that the Tories gained from Labour and the Lib Dems in 2010, and those they need to gain in 2015, the prospect of a Tory-Ukip deal threatened to repel centrist and liberal voters. 

Second, the Tories have recently derided Labour over its refusal to rule out a deal with the SNP, seeking to portray Ed Miliband as "weak" and "desperate". It is far harder to level these charges if Labour can reply in turn that Cameron is preparing to shack up with Farage. The rejection of a pact enhances the rhetorical boast that the Tories are unremittingly focused on winning a majority. 

Finally, the chance of Ukip holding the balance of power in a hung parliament is smaller than often implied. Even if it makes five gains (a credible result), the party will still have significantly fewer MPs than the Lib Dems and the SNP (who stand to make far greater gains), and perhaps fewer than the DUP.

The cost of not ruling out a deal with Ukip is almost certainly greater than the cost of doing so. The Tories are right to have spoken with conviction today. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Getty
Show Hide image

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