European MPs attend a debate on the future of European Union at the European Parliament in Strasbourg on January 15, 2013 during a plenary session. Photo: Getty Images
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An EU explainer for the easily bored: the cost to the UK

Frances Robinson continues her series on what we really need to know about the EU. This week: migration and the money.

OK. I know what the institutions are, get the whole free trade bloc thing, and I totally appreciate maternity leave. How much does this actually cost? The EU budget is the one subject guaranteed to leave even the most hardened Brussels correspondent cry-laughing hysterically while downing La Chouffe in the Hairy Canary* at 2am. 

Back of an envelope? If you want a lot of figures from a wide range of sources, Europe: In or Out? Everything you need to know by David Charter of the Times is a good read. He did his fair share of late-night summits and it's stuffed with interesting numbers. If you want to poke the figures around yourself, they're on the commission website here. Keep a Belgian beer on standby. 

Lies, damned lies and statistics? And then some. One thing to think about at all times: the UK net contribution to the EU budget is less than 0.5 per cent of British GDP. Other things: The figures involved are very volatile (check out page 14 of this treasury report). And money that goes from the EU to non-government organizations - like scientific research - isn't in the main figures. Of course there's the rebate, on top of all of that. Oh, and pound-euro currency fluctuation.

*glug glug glug* Mmmmm, Chouffe. Alright. The UK's annual net contribution to the EU in 2013, according to Mr Charter's book and Fullfact, basically works out somewhere around £8.6bn. Mr. Dixon reckons it's very slightly lower at £8.3bn - or around half a per cent of our GDP.  

Mmmmhmmm. The EU Commission's office in the UK puts the Operating Budgetary Balance - the gross sum the UK puts into the EU budget, minus the money that flows back to the UK, whether via government bodies or directly to beneficiaries - at £6.7bn. They also point out that on a per capita basis, we contribute less than Germany, Sweden, the Netherlands, Austria, Finland and Belgium.

Still sounds like a lot... Well, the Confederation of British Industry - hardly a fluffy bunch of Bruges graduates - suggests the direct net economic benefits of membership to the UK are between £62bn and £78bn every year.

What's Colin Farrell got to do with it? Not In Bruges. It's handy Brussels shorthand for the College of Europe, the Bruges-based institute where graduates go to study the EU and forge the power couples of tomorrow: Helle Thorning-Schmidt, the Danish PM who took that selfie with Barack Obama, met her husband - Neil Kinnock's son - there. Other alumni include Finnish PM and triathlon machine Alex Stubb... and Nick Clegg.

Sounds fancy. One degree from Oxford is enough. What are some things David Cameron could ask for in this renegotiation? He said he'd talk about migration? Free movement of people is of one of the four pillars of the single market. So asking to remove it is like saying you want to join the meat pie appreciation club, but you're vegetarian and want appropriate catering.

But I've got a senstitive stomach! Not everyone has: according to these figures from Hansard, there are 2.2 million Brits living in other EU countries, which more or less balances the 2.4 million EU citizens living the UK. The Brits mainly went to Spain and Ireland, while the two biggest groups coming here are Polish and Irish.

Happy St Patrick's Day! Dziękuję. According to the University of Oxford’s Migration Observatory, less than 5 per cent of EU migrants are claiming jobseekers allowance, while less than 10 per cent are claiming other DWP working age benefits. 

But this guy down the pub said... The commission asked the UK for years to provide figures, rather than anecdotes, on EU migrants claiming benefits – and it didn'tThe UK can change welfare rules if it wants, and of course they vary between the different EU member states. Likewise, EU rules allow countries to put temporary brakes on migration - the UK didn't in the early 2000s, while others did, and more people came than forecast. So maybe that flexibility could be increased.

What does the EU say? Separately, the European Commission is working on a new package of rules this year, which would enable countries to tackle abuse by better coordination of national social security systems. Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker said of course he wants the UK to stay in, but that freedom of movement for workers is non-negociable. "There are red lines... You can't change the treaty." 

OMG Treaties! What does Merkel think, everyone knows Ange is the real boss? In fact, Germany has faced the same issue: last year, an ECJ Advocate-General said Germany could refuse to pay unemployment benefits to an EU migrant who hadn't tried to find work. And anyone who's been to Mallorca will have noticed there are even more German than Brits living there. Just don't test the limits of free movement in the bar queues on Paseo Maritimo.

I'm detecting a theme. Yes. Another one is we're annoying the hell out of people by not actually saying what we want. German Deputy Foreign Minister Michael Roth told Bloomberg: "We would welcome it if difficulties with the EU were to be identified concretely - and it was made clear what the UK's expectations of the EU are."

It's all good, David Cameron's on BuzzFeed! It's a great time to be easily bored. Bet he cleared it up. He took a question on the EU renegotiation. The very last one. From the audience, after he'd discussed Aston Villa.

Did he talk about treaties? He did. "If you get me, you get a renegotiation and a referendum," he told the comedy genius listicle factory-slash-politics powerhouse. "We never wanted the ever-closer union that was written into the treaty, and I want it written out of our part of the Treaty."

The treaties that everyone says it would be a complete nightmare to renegotiate? Coming soon: "Faces of 27 European leaders who can't even with Dave right now." 

(*An Irish bar within sprinting distance of Justus Lipsius Building, where EU summits are held.)

Frances Robinson has been covering the EU since 2006. Previously a staffer at the Wall Street Journal, she returned to the UK after a decade abroad to talk and write about the UK-EU relationship. 

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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.