Boris Johnson and George Osborne at the Tate Modern on 20 February, 2015. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Boris has outflanked Osborne on the living wage and the top tax rate

The Conservative leadership rival's alternative Budget offers something for the left and the right. 

The next Conservative leadership contest has begun. Not every move that the contenders make should be viewed through this prism. But it is an inescapable reality that one of them will succeed David Cameron before the end of this parliament. 

In the first all-Conservative Budget since November 1996, George Osborne has an opportunity to raise his stock among his party by reducing the top rate of tax from 45p to 40p (as 160 Tory MPs have demanded). The absence of the Liberal Democrats from the government frontbench means that Osborne, one Conservative tells me, has "no excuse not to act". But in his interview with Andrew Marr yesterday, the Chancellor signalled that he does not intend to use his political freedom to cut the top rate on Wednesday. He emphasised that his "priority" was to deliver to "the promises upon which we were elected" (of which a cut in the top rate was not one): a £12,500 personal allowance and a £50,000 40p tax threshold. Osborne appears to have wisely concluded that it would be dangerously incongruous to also reduce taxes for the top 1.5 per cent of earners while austerity (such as tax credit cuts) continues elsewhere. 

The Chancellor was also notably lukewarm towards the argument that more companies should pay the living wage to compensate those whose in-work benefits will be reduced (as former No. 10 adviser Steve Hilton has recently proposed). He said that "the best answer" to this conundrum was to cut taxes and "to make sure your businesses are growing and profitable and that they can pay good salaries". At no point did he endorse the argument made by the left and, increasingly, the right that cheapskate corporations are denying their workers the pay they deserve.

In private meetings, I'm told, Osborne has consistently dismissed those (such as Jo Johnson, the universities minister and the author of the Conservative manifesto) who suggested that the Tories should annex Labour's policy of providing tax breaks to companies who raise salaries to living wage level. To him, this is statist meddling based on the false premise that firms who can afford to pay more aren't. As the Resolution Foundation's Gavin Kelly writes in an essential blog: "Perhaps the biggest misconception is the voguish notion that if tax credits are cut, employers will somehow decide to offer pay rises to fill the gap. This is saloon-bar economics espoused by some on both left and right. The available evidence suggests that the great majority of the gains from tax credits flow through to employees, not employers."

It is significant, then, that Osborne's most formidable rival for the Conservative leadership, Boris Johnson, has used his pre-Budget Telegraph column to advocate the changes the Chancellor has refused to offer (for now): a cut in the top rate of tax and the expansion of the living wage. The latter is proposed as political cover for the former: "We think of ourselves according to our relationship with others – and it is simply not fair that a Budget should put more disposable income in the pockets of the rich and less disposable income in the pockets of the poor. And that, alas, would be the result if we were to cut top-rate tax and simultaneously to cut in-work benefits without any compensating improvements in pay." Unlike Osborne, the Mayor of London contends that firms are using tax credits to artificially supress wages: "As for low pay, it isn’t a function of market forces. It’s being propped up by the taxpayer. That needs to end. And that means business has got to start paying its people a wage they can live on." 

It is an appealing pitch that offers something to both the right (a cut in the top rate) and the left (the living wage) of the Conservative Party. The Mayor has cast himself as a "one nation" figure more capable of performing the political gymnastics required to deliver free market policies. Unless Osborne surprises on Wednesday, Johnson's alternative Budget will retain political potency. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Brexit confusion is scuppering my show – what next?

My week, from spinning records with Baconface, Brexit block and visiting comedy graves.

I am a stand-up comedian, and I am in the process of previewing a new live show, which I hope to tour until early 2018. It was supposed to be about how the digital, free-market society is reshaping the idea of the individual, but we are in the pre-Brexit events whirlpool, and there has never been a worse time to try to assemble a show that will still mean anything in 18 months’ time.



A joke written six weeks ago about dep­orting eastern Europeans, intended to be an exaggeration for comic effect, suddenly just reads like an Amber Rudd speech – or, as James O’Brien pointed out on LBC, an extract from Mein Kampf.

A rude riff on Sarah Vine and 2 Girls 1 Cup runs aground because there are fewer people now who remember Vine than recall the briefly notorious Brazilian video clip. I realise that something that gets a cheer on a Tuesday in Harrogate, or Glasgow, or Oxford, could get me lynched the next night in Lincoln. Perhaps I’ll go into the fruit-picking business. I hear there’s about to be some vacancies.



I sit and stare at blocks of text, wondering how to knit them into a homogeneous whole. But it’s Sunday afternoon, a time for supervising homework and finding sports kit. My 11-year-old daughter has a school project on the Victorians and she has decided to do it on dead 19th-century comedians, as we had recently been on a Music Hall Guild tour of their graves at the local cemetery. I wonder if, secretly, she wished I would join them.

I have found living with the background noise of this project depressing. The headstones that she photographed show that most of the performers – even the well-known Champagne Charlie – barely made it past 40, while the owners of the halls outlived them. Herbert Campbell’s obelisk is vast and has the word “comedian” written on it in gold leaf, but it’s in the bushes and he is no longer remembered. Neither are many of the acts I loved in the 1980s – Johnny Immaterial, Paul Ramone, the Iceman.



I would have liked to do some more work on the live show but, one Monday a month, I go to the studios of the largely volunteer-run arts radio station Resonance FM in Borough, south London. Each Wednesday night at 11pm, the masked Canadian stand-up comedian Baconface presents selections from his late brother’s collection of 1950s, 1960s and 1970s jazz, psychedelia, folk, blues and experimental music. I go in to help him pre-record the programmes.

Baconface is a fascinating character, whom I first met at the Cantaloupes Comedy Club in Kamloops in British Columbia in 1994. He sees the radio show as an attempt to atone for his part in his brother’s death, which was the result of a prank gone wrong involving nudity and bacon, though he is often unable to conceal his contempt for the music that he is compelled to play.

The show is recorded in a small, hot room and Baconface doesn’t change the bacon that his mask is made of very often, so the experience can be quite claustrophobic. Whenever we lose tapes or the old vinyl is too warped to play, he just sits back and utters his resigned, philosophical catchphrase, “It’s all bacon!” – which I now find myself using, as I watch the news, with ­depressing regularity.



After the kids go to sleep, I sit up alone and finally watch The Lady in the Van. Last year, I walked along the street in Camden where it was being filmed, and Alan Bennett talked to me, which was amazing.

About a month later, on the same street, we saw Jonathan Miller skirting some dog’s mess and he told me and the kids how annoyed it made him. I tried to explain to them afterwards who Jonathan Miller was, but to the five-year-old the satire pioneer will always be the Shouting Dog’s Mess Man.



I have the second of the final three preview shows at the intimate Leicester Square Theatre in London before the new show, Content Provider, does a week in big rooms around the country. Today, I was supposed to do a BBC Radio 3 show about improvised music but both of the kids were off school with a bug and I had to stay home mopping up. In between the vomiting, in the psychic shadow of the improvisers, I had something of a breakthrough. The guitarist Derek Bailey, for example, would embrace his problems and make them part of the performance.



I drank half a bottle of wine before going on stage, to give me the guts to take some risks. It’s not a long-term strategy for creative problem-solving, and that way lies wandering around Southend with a pet chicken. But by binning the words that I’d written and trying to repoint them, in the moment, to be about how the Brexit confusion is blocking my route to the show I wanted to write, I can suddenly see a way forward. The designer is in, with samples of a nice coat that she is making for me, intended to replicate the clothing of the central figure in Caspar David Friedrich’s 1818 German masterpiece Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog.



Richard Branson is on the internet and, just as I’d problem-solved my way around writing about it, he’s suggesting that Brexit might not happen. I drop the kids off and sit in a café reading Alan Moore’s new novel, Jerusalem. I am interviewing him about it for the Guardian in two weeks’ time. It’s 1,174 pages long, but what with the show falling apart I have read only 293 pages. Next week is half-term. I’ll nail it. It’s great, by the way, and seems to be about the small lives of undocumented individuals, buffeted by the random events of their times.

Stewart Lee’s show “Content Provider” will be on in London from 8 November. For more details, visit:

This article first appeared in the 27 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, American Rage