Harman plans to be part of Labour's negotiating team. Photo: Getty
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Would more women on the parties' negotiating teams form a better coalition?

Backroom girls.

"Backroom boys" is a standard phrase when discussing the wheeling and dealing behind closed doors in Westminster. But what about the girls?

A good question asked of the panel on the BBC's Woman's Hour debate this morning was how each of the women (Harriet Harman, Caroline Lucas, Theresa May, Leanne Wood, Sal Brinton, Eilidh Whiteford and Diane James) would influence coalition negotiations. And would more women negotiating create a better-quality coalition?

The most telling answer was from Harriet Harman. She said: "I think all-male decision-making with women abiding by it is wrong, it's old-fashioned." She pointed out that decision-making is more effective when carried out by a diverse team. 

Harman was part of Labour's negotiating team (which failed) in 2010, but the successful two parties didn't have a single woman involved in the Tory/Lib Dem deal between them. And although Harman gave the standard line about working for a majority, there was a heavy hint that if it comes to doing a deal, she plans to be part of the process.

I hear from a shadow frontbench source that she would sacrifice a departmental role (she is currently both shadow culture secretary and deputy leader) to take a front seat both in negotiations, and the long-term establishment, of an alliance with another party.

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Here are the other panelists' replies:

 - The SNP's Eilidh Whiteford struggled to answer the question, talking about the need for more women MPs in general.

 - The Home Secretary Theresa May too preferred to dodge it by saying "one woman in particular" (Nicola Sturgeon) would have all the influence in negotiations with Labour. 

 - Ukip's Diane James began talking about the experience of women in business, before being admonished by presenter Jenni Murray for failing to answer the question. "We all have testosterone," she retorted, when asked if Ukip was testosterone-fuelled.

 - Lib Dem party president Sal Brinton deployed what must be the Lib Dems' latest differentiation tactic (she gave the line to me first in an interview in January and Vince Cable said a similar thing to the Guardian in April): "The love-in in the rose garden wasn't helpful, it was wrong."

 - The Greens' Caroline Lucas and Leanne Wood of Plaid Cymru were more direct about women working together to form alliances, the former saying, "What we don't want to see is yet more men going behind closed doors, cooking things up." The latter highlighted how her party, Plaid Cymru, has been working with the Greens and the SNP on a more progressive agenda (all three parties have female leaders).

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war