Chris Leslie, the shadow chancellor, supports the pay freeze. But his next boss disagrees. Photo: Getty Images
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Labour at odds over public sector pay freeze

Yvette Cooper, Liz Kendall, Andy Burnham and Jeremy Corbyn are all against the public sector pay freeze. But Harriet Harman and Chris Leslie both back the policy. 

Labour's leadership candidates have all announced their opposition to the continuing public sector pay freeze, putting them on a collision course with Harriet Harman, the party's acting leader, and Chris Leslie, the shadow chancellor.

Andy Burnham, the bookmakers' favourite, was the first candidate to rule out a continuation of the pay freeze, while Liz Kendall also confirmed her opposition to continuing pay restraint at a Q&A in central London this morning. The Kendall campaign believe that they can find the money to end the freeze through reducing the scale of British tax breaks - which currently stand at £100bn a year. 

Yvette Cooper believes that continuing the pay freeze - which has been in place since 2010 - will hit recruitment and retention. "Is the Chancellor really saying he can afford to cut inheritance tax for estates worth £1million," the shadow home secretary asks, "but the people who care for us and keep us safe should have to face five more years of real term pay cuts?" Cooper believes that a decade worth of cuts to public sector pay will do lasting damage to the quality and morale of public sector staff, and that, in any case, that the NHS is increasingly having to turn to more expensive agency staff to fill staffing gaps means the savings are void.

Jeremy Corbyn, meanwhile, is against cuts and will not be supporting the public sector pay freeze. That puts all four candidates in opposition to the policy position set out by Harman and Leslie.

In some respects, the fact that Harman will leave office when the new leader is elected on September 12 renders the row moot. However, Leslie, who is supporting Cooper's bid and is a longstanding ally of the shadow home secretary, was considered likely to remain in post as shadow chancellor should either Cooper or Kendall win the leadership. (Should Burnham win, Rachel Reeves is widely tipped to be appointed both his official deputy, and shadow chancellor, shadowing George Osborne both as Chancellor and as First Secretary of State.) His support of the pay freeze may imperil his chances of keeping hold of the role, or re-open the divides of the first phase of Ed Miliband's leadership, when he and Alan Johnson disagreed over the 50p rate and tuition fees. 

Stephen Bush is editor of the Staggers, the New Statesman’s political blog. He usually writes about politics. 

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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