David Cameron speaks during a visit to Kingsmead School on February 2, 2015. Photograph: Getty Images.
Show Hide image

PMQs review: Cameron rides roughshod over Miliband again

The Tory leader's exuberant confidence allowed him to dominate the chamber. 

The Tories are purring with confidence at the moment. Their dominance of the media war and new-found unity means that they are scenting victory (even as the polls continue to show them neck-and-neck with Labour or slightly behind). 

The evidence of this was on display at today's PMQs. Ed Miliband asked David Cameron about preferential tax treatment for hedge funds (they are not required to pay stamp duty on their share transactions), linking the policy to the Tories' industry donors. But Cameron swatted his question away with effortless superiority. He questioned why "for 13 years, during many of which he was in the Treasury, they did absolutely nothing about this", before declaring, in reference to Ed Balls's Newsnight interview: "I have to say I'm delighted he's raised the economy on the morning after his shadow chancellor couldn't name one single business leader who backed Labour." 

At this point, the well-drilled Tory backbenches began chanting in unison: "Bill, Bill" and "Where's Bill?" (the first name of the business leader Balls almost remembered). Their barracking  persisted throughout Miliband's second question and they were rewarded with a first-rate Cameron gag: "Do you know what he said, Mr Speaker? He said: 'Bill Somebody.' Mr Speaker, Bill Somebody’s not a person; Bill somebody is Labour’s policy." Cheers erupted behind him. The Labour benches, meanwhile, already becalmed by the grim news from Scotland, were deathly silent. 

Miliband fought valiantly on, pressing Cameron to answer, but the PM had too much ammunition in reserve: the confusion over Labour's tuition fees policy, the tax avoidance of their donor John Mills, even the news that "the person who wrote that 'Things Can Only Get Better' says it no longer applies to Labour." The only moment of relief for Miliband came when he archly observed, as George Osborne sought to brief Cameron on tax policy: "You can't help him, George, you're too far away". 

But while the Labour leader was routed in the chamber, he can hope that Cameron's evasiveness hurts the PM in the country. His refusal to pledge to close the tax loophole (as Labour has done) risks reinforcing the Tories' reputation as the party of the rich (the greatest barrier to a majority). As they deride Labour's weaknesses, the Conservatives would do well not to forget their own. 

Outside of the main exchanges, a notable moment came when Labour MP and shadow justice minister Dan Jarvis questioned Cameron about support for a solar panel business in his Barnsley constituency. The respectful silence with which he was heard was a good example of why many believe he could one day lead his party. 

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