Firefighters strike over pensions across England and Wales
Members of Fire Brigades Union set up picket lines, with threat of further action if dispute continues. Read more…
As a political force Englishness is on the rise – and Labour mustn’t forget it | Vernon Bogdanor
This week the party’s headache is Falkirk. But its long-term problems will be south of the border. Read more…
The Bank of England boss is about to step down, and has said he’s going to give himself a gap year. He probably deserves a break – but lose the backpacker lingo, eh Merv?
Mervyn King is retiring as governor of the Bank of England. I’m sure we’ll all get over it. It’s not like Mark E Smith‘s packing it in, or Hilary Mantel, or Eddie Izzard. I can’t say I have strong feelings one way or the other about King, although I do marvel at the way he seems to have grown into his Steve Bell caricature.
King has been telling Kirsty Young on Desert Island Discs about his plans for the immediate future, and who am I to begrudge him his hospitality box at Lord’s or the inevitable appearance on Strictly Come Dancing? As a fellow member of his 60-65 cohort, I say take some time off, mate, by all means. Wear elasticated trousers to the garden centre. Have one too many real ales at lunchtime. Fall asleep in front of Bargain Hunt. Help yourself.
Just don’t call it a “grey gap year”, Merv. You make all of us look even more bloody ridiculous than we already are. Seriously, an old person’s “gap year”? It sounds suspiciously like one of those little luxuries ageing men award themselves to keep intimations of death at bay. A grey gap year is tonally at one with the leather blouson. The sports car. The younger second wife. The sinister lurking about in the dressing-up tent at Bestival.
We narcissistic old people, with our “grey” this and our “silver” that. It all sounds very distinguished when you put your notional hair colour in front of something, but it’s fooling nobody. What about a “bald gap year”? Yeah, thought not, you daft old people. Or a “fat, blotchy, creaking, liverspotted, testicle-faced gap year”. Put that in your social media bios, old people. Then recalibrate your chances of fumbled sex with an 18-year-old backpacker in a Vietnamese hostel, old people. Dozy muppets.
So yeah, Merv. Take it easy, man. Chill. Kick back. Take some time off, or “out” as we under-70s say. I don’t blame you for wanting a break from all that banking, from all that invaluable support for a disastrous and punitive austerity programme, from having to fistbump George Osborne after every Treasury meeting, from having to endure endless alcohol-free lunches with despots and bastards. I don’t blame you for that.
I blame you for wasting one of your Desert Island Discs on Lou Bega’s Mambo Number 5, you doughnut.
The spirit of Albion, as conjured in the British pavilion at the Venice Biennale, makes for some surprising and dramatic connections. The Turner-winning artist explains his thinking
‘Things obsess me,” Jeremy Deller says, “but I don’t think of myself as obsessive.” At 9.30 on the morning before his show opens in the British pavilion at the Venice Biennale the artist is sitting in the sunshine in a cafe across the water from the domes and towers of San Marco, having a go at explaining himself. Deller likes, in his own way, to look the part, so he has adopted something of the Englishman abroad. Khaki shorts, pale legs, socks with sandals, the kind of safari shirt favoured by David Attenborough, a broad-brimmed straw hat which could have done service for John Ruskin, and, around his shoulders, a hot pink sweater. Give him a butterfly net and he could pass for a louche Victorian botanist. He is a precise student of English manners – of dressing up in costumes and playing silly games – so none of these associations will have escaped him.
Like his work, which most famously ranges from his restaging in 2001 of the miners’ strike battle of Orgreave to his road trip across America with a car mangled by a bomb in Iraq in 2009 to his touring bouncy castle Stonehenge of last year, Deller is a quick and compelling presence. He is a great persuader, and is straightaway telling me in his generous, conspiratorial manner about how he felt when the British Council called a year ago to invite him to represent Britain in the closest the art world comes to the Olympics. “It’s like a lot of things, like when I was asked to do the Turner prize show in 2004,” he says. “The first thing is that your mind goes blank. Complete emptiness. You are on the phone and thinking: why on earth are you asking me? I’ve had all my good ideas already! I have none left. Then just as quickly it dawns on you that if you don’t do it someone else will. So you say yes, and then you have to have ideas. But it takes a bit of time.”
Deller’s show is called English Magic, and though he’s reluctant to think of himself as such, he is its conjuror-in-chief. He doesn’t paint, draw or sculpt so people tend to call him a curator but what he does seems both more spirited and more human than that dusty word suggests (in the watery fantasy of Venice it is tempting to think of him as an inspired am-dram Prospero).
His skill is juxtaposition, he is a master of putting things and people next to each other, altering contexts, lighting touchpapers and standing well back. Like any illusionist worth his salt he is wary of explaining this too closely: “My work is really either things that bother me or things that I like,” he says at one point. “Sometimes they are the same thing, sometimes separate things.” In his first widely noted piece, Acid Brass of 1997, in which he had the Stockport-based Fairey brass band play rave anthems, he made his thinking explicit by using a jokey associative mind map on a blackboard – showing the maze of connections between the two music genres, and bringing both to fresh life: “Summers of love, melancholy, the north, open air, the miners’ strike…” and so on. Subsequently he has tended to let his audiences find their own cat’s cradle of reference points in his work.
For my benefit, in the sunshine, he explains a little of how the alchemical elements of English Magic came about. Deller, who is now 47, studied art history at the Courtauld Institute, specialising in the baroque, and Venice made him think of frescoes, particularly images of power and destruction. On his mind from the beginning was a memory of the last time he came here, in 2011. “Even if you’re just a visitor, as an artist you feel quite vulnerable,” he recalls. “It is like an aspiring film-maker going to Cannes, I suppose, and seeing that whole world set out for you, how big it is, how much money there is, the yachts, all that. And asking: where do I fit in?”
In 2011 one particular yacht had loomed large. Roman Abramovich had parked his tall ship right next to the Giardini where we are sitting, blocking the eternal view. “A huge security detail was on the shore,” Deller recalls, “so everyone had to walk by to the show in a little corridor. It was kind of like the bed art had made for itself.” In coming here Deller felt he might mark out a bit of territory for another idea of art, his more inclusive one. So he commissioned a mural from his mate Stuart Sam Hughes, who does very precise spray painting, usually customising motorbikes, of a great colossus picking up the oligarch’s yacht and chucking it into the lagoon. The colossus is a wild, bearded William Morris. Why Morris?
He laughs. “Well Morris came to Venice, and loved aspects of it, and he was apparently a great chucker around of things. I had the sense this yacht and its connection to the art world was the kind of thing that would have pissed him off. So I kind of summoned him up.”
One thing with Deller always leads to many more, though, and he found lots of fertile territory in the gap between the Chelsea oligarch and the Kelmscott printmaking revolutionary. For a start, they bookended communism – Morris was in on its idealistic beginnings, Abramovich made his billions out of its collapse. He pursues this theme by placing together some of Morris’s hand-carved wood blocks with the intricately self-printed promissory notes and share certificates in which Russian wealth was hastily divided in 1992. In following the oligarchs’ money he then discovered how many of the further deals were done in London in the late 90s, so that rooted it more. And then there was the opposition between the homespun, handcrafted vision of art for Morris and the bloated global money-laundering business of it, which many of those oligarchs have bought into. (Deller was of the same generation as Damien Hirst and the YBAs, went to the same parties, but never made any money, so feels qualified to talk). Anyway, he says, “there was a theme, which is vaguely newsy, and about power and art. Where is the power? Is it with Morris or with Abramovich? Will we know about Abramovich in 50 years’ time? We will certainly know about Morris…”
In most of the other national pavilions that crowd the Giardini this opposition would probably have sufficed as a show. In the Russian gallery, for example, the courageous Vadim Zakharov presents a pointed version of the Danaë myth in which an insouciant dictator (of whom it is hard not to think: Putin) sits on a high beam on a saddle, shelling nuts all day while gold coins rain down from a vast shower-head only to be hoisted in buckets by faceless thuggish men in suits. Deller wants more going on than that. He wants all angles. The phrase he uses most often in our conversation is “it’s really complicated, isn’t it?” And anyway, when he came to think about the show, his shifting idea of Britain, there were other things his mind was snagging on.
One of them, presciently, eight months ago, was corporate tax avoidance. He came across a diagram on the internet which detailed the complicated offshore scheme favoured by Tesco; the diagram looked like a face so he commissioned a tapestry mask of it like a totem on one wall, and still in clairvoyant mood, another mural of destruction: “I wanted to include a picture of St Helier in 2017,” he says of the large-scale burning street scene. “I said 2017 but really I should have said 2014 the way things are going. British taxpayers have gone to Jersey to demonstrate against their tax avoidance culture and basically the city of St Helier gets burned to the ground. It is like a medieval sacking…”
It is, in Deller’s national vision, payback time in other ways too. From 100 feet away, walking up the promenade to the British pavilion, the first thing you see is a mural of a hen harrier picking up a Range Rover in its talons. The third story that had lodged in Deller’s head and wouldn’t go away was that 2007 incident of two of these rare birds being shot down over the Sandringham estate. The only people shooting that day, if you remember, were apparently Prince Harry and his friend William van Cutsem. Shooting the protected birds would carry a prison sentence but after police inquiries no action was taken. “That really annoyed me,” Deller says with another smile, “so I thought I would do something with a giant hen harrier taking revenge on man, not Prince Harry necessarily, but man in general. It’s called A Good Day for Cyclists because I am a cyclist in London, and as every cyclist knows, Range Rover drivers are the worst drivers by far, along with Porsche drivers. They are beyond the pale.”
Why does he think these particular stories hold his curiosity?
“They are almost news stories but I have tried to give a mythological slant to them,” he says. Into this rich fairytale mix – princes and hawks and taxes and corruption – he adds a couple of other layers of recent legend. In one room fans’ pictures of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust tour (seemingly inescapable in 2013) are juxtaposed with contemporaneous photos from the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The original genesis of this was Deller’s discovery of the fact that Bloody Sunday was the day after the Bowie tour opened. In another room he finds new layers for a different conflict, having invited some of the many soldiers who wound up in prison, usually for assault after coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan, to document the conflict with portraits of Tony Blair, Dr David Kelly and others, and their memories of what they witnessed. Add in steel bands playing Vaughan Williams, and neolithic axe heads, and you are presented with a complex series of observations which might add up to something like the white noise of our current anxieties.
Talking to Deller you come to think of him as a sort of aerial for those concerns, constantly tuning out static. I suggest to him that he might see himself as a national conscience, and, rightly, he winces. A lightning rod then?
“I’m in a position where I can explore things in a tangential way. I’m not writing the definitive book about any of it, I just want to explore some of it visually, emotionally. It gets it out of my system so it gives me satisfaction. I think, I know, other people are concerned about these things, so maybe it helps them get it out too.”
Where does that compulsion come from? “I’m just obsessed with the news. It’s there in your head all day, and if you don’t try to make sense of it, it just drives you crazy. Or it does me anyway. Twitter and all this makes it worse.”
He has of late been rewatching The Day Today, Chris Morris’s mid-90s satire of our addiction to the packaging of television reporting. “It has all actually come true,” Deller says. “Everything now is fodder for 24-hour news. I’ve been listening to Radio 4 on my phone while I’ve been setting things up here, just to keep up with stuff, and last week was insane. You had all the weird gay marriage stuff, Norman Tebbit ranting, and then the terrible Woolwich event. Seen from here, Britain just sounded completely mad.”
If he looks back he has always had, for better and worse, a sense of that madness. In his own mind a lot of it began with school, Dulwich college. Deller grew up in south London (he has since migrated north of the river to a flat in Highbury he shares with his girlfriend.) His parents were, he says, “incredibly lovely first-generation middle-class churchgoing people. Very proud of me. They hadn’t been to university so it was really a big deal for me to go to a private school. My father worked for the council, my mother was a receptionist at the NHS. So it was a big sacrifice. I am grateful for it.” But what it also did was to place him in close proximity to an alien and very British establishment.
“I went to school with Nigel Farage. He was two years above me. I don’t remember him really but I totally know who he is. The school is quite a liberal and inclusive place now but at the time it was totally white, male, aspiring middle class. Maybe 10 black kids out of 1,500, two women teachers, and these people like Farage, totally chauvinistic. It was completely homophobic. Monocultural. We did a mock election at school in ’80 or ’81 and they had to abandon it because the National Front were winning. It was done as a jokey, bantery thing. But it was a grim environment in lots of ways.”
That 80s period has informed a lot of Deller’s work, from his Sealed Knot recreation of Orgreave on, and remains a touchstone. How, I wonder, did he spend Thatcher’s funeral day? “I was in a prison in Wales, doing drawings of the Iraq war with the ex-soldiers,” he says. “It was funny because prison officers and prisoners and soldiers were united over it. Everyone was cursing her.”
As a lover of the spontaneity of popular demonstration, did he enjoy the effigy burnings and the rest in former pit towns?
“In Orgreave they did that great surreal funeral procession, a proper piece of folk art. It was what it would have been like 200 years ago when Palmerston died, or some unpopular monarch. I thought: congratulations…”
Deller has long had a fascination with the energy and symbolism of British parades, staging his own alternative pageant of Boy Racers and Big Issue Sellers and Unrepentant Smokers at the Manchester festival in 2009. It links him to that spirit of nonconformity and of reclaiming the streets prized by the likes of Iain Sinclair and his fellow tramping psychogeographers, and also to the British habit of parochial eccentricity. What was his first experience of that?
“Growing up,” he says “my parents were involved in the church and we would get involved in fetes and carnivals and all that. I was interested in the weirdness of Britain from an early age. Trying to tap into that strange sort of WI spirit which had loads of parts to like but also a deep conservatism.”
He never went on foreign holidays as a kid, always Dorset, Scotland or wherever, and he thinks that led to total immersion in the culture. “Being in Britain all through childhood, and the comparative lack of stimulus there was then. You were bored a lot of the time so you had more time to dwell on stuff around you.”
In this sense, at its best Deller’s own autobiography becomes all our autobiographies. He has a sixth sense for the pressure points of our lives. His Bowie room, quietly juxtaposing teenage pop hysteria with the Troubles, could seem too easy a contrast but the quality of his looking saves it from that. His instinct that there was something there in the association beyond simple chronology is rewarded in the details.
“I was six or seven in 1973,” he says. “It was an awakening moment for me, seeing bands dressed strangely on Top of the Pops, a first epiphany of that kind of popular culture. And also the time I first became aware of politics. The three-day week and power cuts brought all that home. So those things happened for me at the same time. I was worried about it seeming glib, having a picture of a pop star next to pictures of riots and so on. But then if you look at the pictures of Northern Ireland you see the people involved are largely kids that look a lot like those at the Bowie gigs. The point is they could have been going to those gigs but the tour never went to Northern Ireland because it was too dangerous. It becomes about youth and identity. National and religious identity on the one hand and weird escapist made-up identity on the other.”
That fascination for the masks people wear, and with the randomness of mediated culture, links Deller with Andy Warhol, who became something of a 15-minute mentor after the pair met at a book signing in 1986 and Deller saw Warhol again in New York. He has fashioned a very British understanding of Warhol’s possibilities. Talking of that now brings him back to William Morris, who he likes to think was the “Warhol of his day, a man of his time, and finding bizarre ways to change them through, in his case, soft furnishings”.
Does Deller find a kindred spirit in Morris’s rage against industrialism, his chucking things around?
“No,” he says “I never lose my temper. Maybe once every three years or so I raise my voice. My art is my way of losing my temper, I get everything out through that.”
One thing Deller doesn’t do is take sides in his work. If his guiding principle is only connect, then it applies to people as much as things. He is a Morris-like utopian in this sense, though never forgetting the vague absurdity of that position. His new Jerusalem is as much Women’s Institute as William Blake – of children cartwheeling on his inflatable Stonehenge, the studious mixed-race steel band hammering out Vaughan Williams, the harrier taking its revenge on trigger-happy Harry. He wants to hold all these things together fleetingly, and at once.
We walk up to the pavilion where Deller hands me a 300,000-year-old axe-head dredged up from the Thames, as if to summon the spirit of Albion. Through one door I can see William Morris emerging from the waves, through another the criss-crossing route map of Ziggy Stardust’s tour of Britain which offers a template to the connective magic Deller is after. For a while those associative connections fizz between his gathered elements, and singular co-ordinates of a Britain enmeshed in memories of conflict and culture, dirty money and idealism, power and subversion obtains before tying itself in knots. Happily, Deller has also incorporated the traditional British antidote to knottedness and complication in his pavilion. They are serving Earl Grey and English Breakfast out the back. “Have a good look round,” he says, “and then get a cup of tea.”
Jeremy Deller’s British Council commission is at Venice Biennale until 24 Nov. The exhibition will tour national venues in 2014; britishcouncil.org/visualarts
Read Laura Cummings’s review of the Venice Biennale here
Lending to individuals is on the up, driven by mortgages, BoE figures show, but business lending hits a slump
Lending to individuals rose in April, but figures from the Bank of England showed a sharp fall in the amount of borrowing done by businesses.
Non-financial firms paid off £3bn of loans (including overdrafts) over the month, compared to an average monthly repayment of £1.3bn over the previous six months.
Year-on-year, borrowing contracted by 4%, while among small- and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) it fell by 3.3%.
While lending to businesses fell, the Bank’s figures showed a pick-up in consumer credit in April, with total lending to individuals increasing by £1.4bn compared to an average monthly increase of £1bn over the previous six months.
This was buoyed by an increase in mortgage lending, which was up £0.9bn during the month. The number of loans approved for house purchase reached a three-month high of 53,710, while remortgage figures reached 30,313 – higher than the previous six-month average.
The figures are the latest to suggest an upturn in the property market following government efforts to boost mortgage availability through its Funding for Lending scheme and, more recently, the launch of the Help to Buy scheme, which offers equity loans to buyers.
On Thursday, Nationwide building society reported a 0.4% rise in house prices in May, and said there were “reasons for optimism” that activity would continue to pick up.
However, while Funding for Lending does seem to have helped the mortgage market, Howard Archer, chief UK economist at IHS Global Insight, said the further drop in net lending to businesses added to the evidence that it has so far failed in its other purpose, to boost loans to companies.
The scheme was extended in April, with an emphasis on SMEs, but Archer said: “How much companies want to borrow going forward remains questionable, but it is important for UK growth hopes that all companies who are in decent shape and who do want to borrow – whether it be to support their operations, lift investment, or explore new markets – can do so, and at a non-punishing interest rate.
“This applies to all companies, whatever their size.”
Separate figures from the Building Societies Association (BSA) showed its members have been increasing their share of the mortgage market over the past year, with lending by mutuals accounting for 26% of gross lending in April, compared with 21% in April 2012.
The BSA said that in the first four months of 2013 mortgage balances at mutuals had increased by £2.8bn, while balances at other lenders had fallen by £3.1bn. Gross mortgage lending was up by 55% year-on-year at £3.2bn, while net mortgage lending increased from £0.2bn in April 2012 to £0.9bn.
However, the figures are skewed by the stamp duty holiday on properties costing up to £250,000 that ended in March 2012 and led to a quiet April in the mortgage market.
Anti-racism campaigners warn of ‘day of hate’ on Saturday as English Defence League and BNP prepare for marches
Far-right groups are planning their biggest mobilisation for 30 years this weekend with more than 50 demonstrations planned in towns and cities across England.
Anti-racism campaigners have branded Saturday a “day of hate” after identifying 55 English Defence League (EDL) events as well a BNP march in London.
The events are seen as the latest attempt by UK far-right groups to exploit the murder of the British soldier Lee Rigby, who was stabbed to death in Woolwich, south-east London, last week.
“Towns and cities across England are going to have EDL events – many of them for the first time – and this is about the EDL taking their message of hate and division to communities across the country to try to stoke tensions and provoke a response,” said Nick Lowles from Hope not Hate.
“It is going to be a very tense weekend and it represents the biggest far-right mobilisation we have seen in this country for 30 years.”
The BNP leader, Nick Griffin, had planned to stage a six-mile march from Woolwich to Lewisham in south London on Saturday. But on Thursday afternoon the Metropolitan police imposed restrictions on the march, changing the route to central London between Millbank and the Cenotaph in Whitehall, because of fears that it could result in “serious disorder, serious damage to property, and/or serious disruption to the life of the community”.
Commander Simon Letchford said: “The murder of Lee Rigby in Woolwich last week shocked our city. The right to protest is a fundamental part of our society, however, such an evocative mix of views being expressed in communities still hurting from Lee’s murder could have resulted in ugly scenes on our streets.”
Some of the biggest EDL demonstrations are expected in Birmingham, Luton and Leeds and police forces across England have been holding emergency meetings this week to work out how best to maintain order.
A spokesman for the Association of Chief Police Officers said: “Police are aware of a number of demonstrations planned for this weekend. Forces across the country will be working closely with local communities as always to ensure these pass off with minimum disruption. While we will do all we can to facilitate peaceful protest, those taking part should be clear that the police will uphold the law.”
The EDL was a dwindling force before Rigby’s murder, struggling to attract more than a few hundred supporters to its events. But since his death the group, which claims it is a peaceful and non-racist organisation, has held three major demonstrations – all of which have been marred by violence and running battles with the police.
“We know from bitter experience the violent and provocative reality of these events,” said Lowles.
Anti-racist campaigners are planning “community unity” events in opposition to the EDL and BNP on Saturday. Weyman Bennett from Unite Against Fascism said it was working with faith groups and trade unions to organise wherever the far right gathered. “We want to show that we are united in our opposition to the EDL and BNP and their attempt to use the tragic death of this young man for political ends.”
Twittersphere speculates on possible choices for outgoing Bank of England governor, with Dire Straits among suggestions
Sir Mervyn King, the outgoing governor of the Bank of England, is to be Kirsty Young’s guest on Desert Island Discs.
King, who is being by replaced the Canadian central bank governor Mark Carney, will be the castaway on Sunday on the popular BBC Radio 4 programme.
The BBC revealed King would be the first Bank of England governor to appear on the programme in listings published on Wednesday, but declined to reveal any of King’s records or his choice of luxury. However, that has not stopped the Twittersphere speculating.
Andrew Sentance, a former member of the Bank’s monetary policy committee (MPC) who is a fan of 1970s rock and a band member himself, suggested Easy Money – stipulating the songs of that name by King Crimson, Rickie Lee Jones, Billy Joel or ELO – while the consumer campaign SaveOurSavers suggested: “Surely ANYTHING by Dire Straits.”
Dire Straits tracks were popular with Twitter users using the hashtag #MervynSongGuesses. Iron Lad suggested Money for Nothing, which he said would be “Very apt song and artist names I think!”.
Several others suggested Edith Piaf’s Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, and Meat Loaf’s Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer than They Are.
The BBC also refused to reveal anything King has said in the pre-recorded interview, but it seems unlikely that he will slip into retirement without, once again, calling for further economic stimulus.
He may also call for an end to “banker bashing”. In a valedictory interview with Sky News this month he called on the public and the media to stop “demonising” bankers.
“Don’t demonise individuals here. This wasn’t a problem of individuals, this was a problem of failure of a system,” he said. “We collectively allowed the banking system to become too big, we gave them far too much status and standing in society and we didn’t regulate it adequately by ensuring it had enough capital.”
He said regulatory reforms to the way the City operates would lead to a “revolution in the way in which banking is handled and we will be able to be proud again of British banking”.
King was brought up in Wolverhampton – and may therefore favour a tune by one of its famous musical sons – Slade perhaps, or Kevin Rowland of Dexy’s Midnight Runners. He read economics at Cambridge University – so may choose a little Radiohead in honour of student bandmember Colin Greenwood – before going on to be an academic at Cambridge, Birmingham, Harvard, Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the London School of Economics.
King, 65, joined the Bank of England as chief economist in 1991 and rose to become governor in 2003.
Banning the ‘No Surrender’ chant against Ireland won’t work. Dialogue, not diktat, is needed to find a new tune to unite fans
It has been on the fixture list for months – I snapped up my tickets as long ago as February. On Wednesday, England play Ireland at Wembley, as part of the celebrations to mark the FA’s 150th anniversary. Yet it seems that the FA has only now woken up to the fact that it may be anything but friendly in the stands. In the coming days all England supporters and ticket-holders will be receiving an email or letter from the England manager telling us not to sing a certain song on the night in order not to cause offence.
For as long as I’ve been a travelling England fan (my first game was Moldova away in 1996), a decent proportion of England fans have used the musical pause after the third line of God Save the Queen to insert “No Surrender” with as much volume and defiance as they can manage. And as the action ebbs and flows on the pitch – especially when it ebbs – the chant will go up again: “No surrender, no surrender, no surrender to the IRA scum!”
Not everybody joins in, but enough do to ensure the sentiment is firmly established as part and parcel of what being an England fan is – whether we like it or not (in my case and plenty of other fans’ case, the latter). The FA know all this only too well, but over the years they’ve put their hands over their collective ears and wished it would go away. Well, it hasn’t. On some occasions, they have cranked up the volume for the poor opera singer belting out God Save the Queen, in the hope no one will hear the unofficial fourth line. Fat chance that will work on Wednesday.
Meanwhile, journalists are scrambling to unpick what the chant means, with associations with the National Front, BNP, EDL and extreme Northern Irish unionism widely trailed. This is the great get-out clause. If No Surrender can be shown to have something to do with the far right, we can safely condemn it as belonging to the other. Yet the notion of not surrendering is absolutely central to a much broader version of Englishness than that of the fascists and race haters – and it is not all bad either. World war two, resistance against the Nazis, the Battle of Britain and the blitz spirit were all about not surrendering too.
Yet ironically, since 1945, surrendering is one thing this the English have excelled at. First it was the empire. Then at Wembley in 1953 our presumed footballing superiority was dashed when Puskas’ Hungary thrashed us 6-3 (I wonder how the FA will mark that anniversary). We have surrendered the idea of being a monocultural nation: there’s a reason why there will be so many Irish there on Wednesday night, some of whom will be sitting amongst the England fans. We’ve also surrendered to being not completely apart from Europe. Does everyone welcome any or all that we’ve given up in order to become what we are now? It’s complicated. “No Surrender” rings out while we’re cheering on a team that is the perfect example of a post-imperial, multicultural and Europeanised England.
I personally don’t go to England matches to sing No Surrender for the same reason that you won’t find me at Wembley on Wednesday night trying to raise a chant of “No Privatisation”: I leave my politics at the turnstile. But simply banning the chant won’t work, nor will demonising those who join in. We don’t need diktats, but dialogue about what we have surrendered and why some of those surrenders have made sense. A conversation about how a political and peaceful solution to one of the bloodiest terror campaigns of postwar Europe was found. An admission that both sides surrendered and found peace instead.
On the way, we may just uncover an entirely different, softer version of martial and imperial Englishness to the one we’re used to. “What’s so funny ’bout peace, love and understanding?” Now there’s a tune for Wednesday night.
Fire services could slash costs by sharing stations with police and ambulance crews, says former chief adviser
Ministers should consider replacing the 46 local fire and rescue authorities in England with a single national organisation – as has happened in Scotland – according to a review of the £2.2bn-a-year emergency service.
Mergers, privatisation, staff-led mutual organisations, sharing of stations with police and ambulance “blue light” operations, and greater use of part-time, on-call firefighters are among other options floated by Sir Ken Knight, the country’s former chief fire and rescue adviser. He also said he would back a trial of whether police and crime commissioners could take responsibility for fire and rescue services in their areas.
Despite a 40% fall in calls to fires, road accidents, flooding and other emergencies in the past decade and deaths in accidental fires at home – 186 recorded in 2011/12 – being at an all-time low, spending and firefighter numbers remained broadly the same, says the government-commissioned report.
Nearly £200m a year could be saved if costs in the most expensive authorities could be cut to the average. Some services cost only £26 per resident a year; others more than £50. These “inexplicable” differences did not seem to be related to how densely populated, small or affluent the areas they served were.
The report says “local politics and the public’s seemingly unconditional attachment to the fire and rescue service can act as constraints on really pursuing the most efficient ways of working, holding on to outdated configuration or location of fire stations and fire appliances rather than changing service delivery to improve overall outcomes”.
Knight also said that any rise in privatisation or mutualisation should be accompanied by an independent regulator and inspectorate since there would be public concern that “involving a company, however it is run, in the delivery of frontline emergency services brings a risk of a ‘profit over lives’ mentality”.
Increasing the percentage nationally of on-call, or what in one media interview Knight called “pay-as-you-go” , firefighters from 30% to 40% could bring annual savings of up to £123m. He said reductions in emergency incidents represented “a good news story” and fire and rescue services had played a pivotal role in this as they moved from predominantly emergency response organisations to organisations that reduce risk.
But societal changes, technological improvements, greater smoke-alarm ownership, safety campaigns and government regulations for buildings and furniture had also played a huge part. “Despite these changes, no similar significant change in the make-up or cost of the service has taken place. Fire and rescue services do now need to transform themselves to reflect the entirely different era of risk and demand they now operate in.”
Matt Wrack, general secretary of the Fire Brigades Union, said the review was “just a fig leaf for slashing our fire and rescue service to bits”.
He added: “David Cameron has promised to protect frontline services. That has been exposed as a lie over the past three years as the fire service has faced the biggest cuts in its history. It is not just the Fire Brigades Union warning about this. Increasingly others in the fire service, including chief officers, are concerned over our ability to deliver this essential service.
“Fire stations are being closed and fire engines are being axed. Last year alone a further 1,200 firefighter jobs were cut. All these cuts mean a poorer service for the public. They mean waiting longer for a fire engine if you have a fire or other emergency.
“Ken Knight is attempting to bury all these facts in order to justify further cuts in the government’s forthcoming spending review.”
At the Bank’s quarterly inflation report and his last as governor, Sir Mervyn King predicted modest economic growth this year and a fall in inflation