The royal family need a new boiler and the right want us to pay for it

Nothing symbolises stagnation, immovable social barriers and hierarchy quite like the royal family. No wonder George Osborne is leaping to their defence

• 
• • Suzanne Moore
  • The Guardian, Wednesday 29 January 2014 20.01 GMT

The royal family gathered on the balcony at Buckingham Palace. The public accounts committee has questioned how well the royal finances are administered. Photograph: Leon Neal/AFP/Getty Images

When you are on a limited income, a boiler packing up, a leaky roof, dodgy guttering or a basement full of asbestos can tip you over the edge. If you are mortgaged-up, you cannot let your property fall into disrepair. If you live in social housing or are renting privately, you may find you receive little help; landlords and councils will keep you waiting and do the bare minimum. Rising food and fuel bills mean that, despite our much-trumpeted growth, too many are left with the "heat or eat" dilemma.

So can you imagine what it is like to be the poor old Queen? The boiler in Buckingham Palace is 60 years old. And you will get no Camilla cracks from me: I've moved on.

What, though, is the Queen to do? Obviously the answer is not pay for it herself out of her own enormous fortune because … well, she is the Queen. We – her largely indifferent subjects – should be ecstatically happy to pay for her repairs. Instead, though, "we" – in the shape of the public accounts committee headed by Margaret Hodge – are nosing round asking awkward questions about the royal finances, which is really rather vulgar. It is "bizarre", Jacob Rees-Mogg has told us, that this committee should query the pittance of royal expenditure when we should be looking at cutting other public spending.

It's not that bizarre, as every public body has had to trim itself down, or at least not flash the cash around quite so obviously, in the middle of a recession. The royals, though, have maintained staffing levels and those staff have carried on spending, cutting only 5% over the last six years. Last year, the monarch received a sovereign grant of £31m and the family can raise money when they choose to. They only open up Buckingham Place for tourists two months of the year, even though they were advised years ago to keep it open longer. Nonetheless, via entry fees and renting it out to JP Morgan, they made £11.6m last year.

Still, everyone loves our dutiful Queen and republicanism remains at a low ebb. But I wonder, as she hands over more duties to Prince Charles, and Kate and sprog will have to be wheeled out more, whether this spectacle will continue to persuade us on the "value for money" front. Which is surely why that expert in fairness and accountability George Osborne has intervened. Why should the royals have to dip into their million-pound emergency fund to repair their own palaces? Gideon feels the committee "is being unfair to the way the royal household has managed its finances".

The inimitable Nadine Dorries has also been on the case. She feels embarrassed "listening to Margaret Hodge reel off the list of repairs that need doing to royal buildings". Nadine embarrassed? This is serious. She then surpassed herself by saying: "What the royal family does for us is beyond explanation."

Indeed. Why is the Treasury stepping in here, except to defend, as ever, the super rich? While the number of the undeserving poor grow – scroungers, shirkers, people who steal food that has been thrown away out of skips – it is no coincidence that the number of deserving rich expands.

This is Conservative ideology at full throttle. We cannot increase tax on those with big incomes because they are the motors of growth and may leave. We are simply to accept that such concentrated wealth is a global trend. To say otherwise is some kind of anti-business communism. The anger towards bankers as the undeserving rich has dissipated as we are fed constant tales of vital entrepreneurs. Those at the top should not have to open their books, as they themselves are an actual asset. The vastly wealthy are now called "wealth creators".

The monarchy is part of this charade and we are to be grateful as we pay £1m to do up the house of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Or rehouse Princess Beatrice. We provide the help to buy. We pay for their DIY, but they need more.

At the very least, one would have thought that the palace and its Tory courtiers would want to appear more frugal. Instead, the royal energy bill is that of the average British household. Multiplied 2,280 times. This kind of spending, and the apologists for it, fail to acknowledge a world of foodbanks and steep decline in social mobility. For if anything symbolises stagnation, immovable social barriers and hierarchy, it is the royal family. They embody the exact opposite of hard work, aspiration and innovation and all the guff that we are told will make things fairer.

Of course the chancellor defends those born with enormous financial assets. This government, after all, bought the American model that extreme and visible inequality is a price worth paying for the dream of social mobility.

The reality is different. We actually subsidise those born to rule at a time of gross inequality and zilch mobility. These people have no shame. They believe themselves to be the deserving rich. So put your hands in your pockets to mend the ancient boilers of billionaires. And feel thankful. Yes, this really is "beyond explanation".

I despise men after I've had sex with them

Even if I like the man at first, once we've had sex, I start to feel disgusted by him

 

• 
• • Pamela Stephenson Connolly
  • The Guardian, Monday 20 January 2014

I feel emotionally distant after sex. (Photograph posed by models.) Photograph: Alamy

I often find myself despising the men I have sex with. Whether on a one-night stand or with someone I initially like, after a few dates, once we have sex, I feel emotionally distant and a little disgusted by them. I have hadrelationships where these feelings fade to the background after a while, but they never go away.

Our sexual desire and our ability to enjoy intimacy is always influenced by the messages we received when we were young. Even if sex was not directly discussed, children usually manage to glean a sense of how their parents or carers feel about sex, nudity, eroticism, sexual experimentation and so on.

You may have internalised feelings of disgust about sex long ago. Many of us are brought up believing it is "wrong" or "dirty", that "nice girls don't do it", that "all men are untrustworthy", or other negative notions. These beliefs can make it very difficult for a person to reach a high level of comfort with adult sexuality, even within marriage.

Examine your long-held beliefs and your targeted disgust, and spend time pondering where they may have come from. Perhaps you can pinpoint exact moments in your sexual awareness or development when such ideas formed. Once you have identified the source of your disgust, you can work to rationalise and correct. Replace your negative feelings about sex with positive affirmations such as "sex is healthy", or "sexual desire is normal". Say these out loud every day until you believe them.

Judge the Royal Mail sale in three months, said Vince Cable. Time's up

Today's share price confirms the company was grossly undervalued, cheating the taxpayer out of billions of pounds

• 
• • Alex Andreou
  • The Guardian, Thursday 23 January 2014 12.41 GMT

'It turns out that the sale of Royal Mail was, in fact, completely botched.' Photograph: Dan Kitwood/Getty Images

"There's no way we will sell Royal Mail 'on the cheap'," promised the government in its Royal Mail: Myth-Busters factsheet, issued before the sale of most of our stake in the public asset, last October. Many commentators at the time thought the sale was irrational and the company grossly undervalued.

When shares finally opened for conditional trading, their price jumped from the government's valuation of 260p-330p each to more than 450p. The business secretary, Vince Cable, dismissed this as of "absolutely no significance … it is froth and speculation". He asked to be judged on what the price looks like in three months' time.

Well, three months have come and gone and the price of the shares is, at the time of writing, sitting pretty at over 600p each, with a high of 610p a few days ago – an 80% climb on their original price. This suggests that the company was undervalued by a giant £2.8bn: six times the projected saving this year by the imposition of the bedroom tax; six times the amount of money the government hopes to save by the imposition of a levy that is causing misery to thousands of vulnerable people and their carers up and down the country. And Royal Mail could have further to go yet. JP Morgan predicts the price will settle at about 700p a share. Earnings-per-share forecasts bear this out – they estimate a 30% gain this year.

So, now that it turns out that the sale of Royal Mail was, in fact, completely botched and has cheated citizens of billions of pounds' worth of value, where is the apology? Where are the resignations? If something like this had happened at local government level, there may have been questions of criminal prosecution. Why do our representatives in Westminster feel that they don't have to apologise when they get it so disastrously wrong, that they don't even have to give an account of themselves? They can simply ignore criticism; wave it away as if it were an unsavoury smell.

Goldman Sachs and UBS, the companies paid a stonking £16.9m by the government for managing the privatisation, were questioned about the price discrepancy by a parliamentary committee in November. They denied any impropriety, claimed the 330p price was correct according to their research and described the whole fiasco as a "well-executed transaction". Less than a week later, Goldman Sachs issued a note to its investors, advising them that the price of the shares would settle at about 610p.

When it emerged that the very companies advising on the sale were offered millions of shares in Royal Mail, shares which today represent a potential profit of over £35m, the Department for Business, Innovation and Skills said there was no possibility of conflict. This was because shares were offered to the investment arms of the banks and there are"Chinese walls" in place between them and any employees working on the sale. When it transpired that one of the biggest potential private beneficiaries from the flotation was hedge fund management company, Lansdowne Partners, and that George Osborne's best man, Peter Davies, was part of their management team, more denials came: "At no point was George involved in, or even made aware of, the allocations," said a Conservative spokesman. More "Chinese walls". Sir Paul Ruddock, Lansdowne's former chief executive, was awarded a knighthood last year after donating £500,000 to the Conservative party, although he denies the two are linked and stresses that his knighthood was for his services to arts.

Royal Mail has already announced its first post-privatisation price rise on business rates, explicitly to "help secure the sustainability of the Universal Service". Meanwhile, Royal Mail's chief executive, Moya Greene is rumoured to be in line for a £1.5m pay packet. After all, she has magically doubled the company's value in three months, hasn't she? Vince Cable is vowing to do his best to block such a package. Oh, the bitter irony … Vince Cable "playing boss", three months after selling the service, at a bargain basement price. Talking tough on a single payoff, three months after presenting City investors with a bumper £2.8bn bonus. Of our money.

The banking industry's biggest problem isn't bonuses or market share

The only way to make the sector pursue long-term viability instead of short-term greed is to change the rules of the game

• 
• • Ha-Joon Chang
  • The Guardian, Wednesday 22 January 2014

‘The fact that the political class, including Miliband himself, cannot even imagine state-owned banks ditching the business model that caused this crisis is a testimony to the power of the financial industry lobby.’ Photograph: Stefan Rousseau/PA

Last Friday, in another of those agenda-setting speeches for which he has rightly become famous, Ed Miliband took on the biggest of what he describes as "the broken markets" in the UK economy – the financial market.

Taking his "cost of living crisis" theme to another level, the Labour leader emphasised that the issue is not just about oligopolistic firms fleecing their customers; it is also about the lack of jobs with decent wages that can support decent standards of living. The problem with the British banking industry, Miliband pointed out, is not just about the concentration of financial power in the personal account market, but also in the business loan market.

According to Miliband's analysis, the dominant banks are not lending enough to small and medium-sized enterprises because they form a cosy oligopoly (controlling 85% of small business lending) that does not want to take any risk; enterprise loans are inherently riskier than mortgage and personal loans. Given that small businesses create most jobs in the UK (as they do in all countries), lack of finance for them is limiting the creation of decent jobs. The solution, he argued, is to introduce more competition into the small business lending market by capping the share of individual banks.

This proposal has caused much controversy. However, one thing is certain: it is going to be slow-acting. It may be years before proper "challenger" banks emerge, given the time necessary for the review by the Competition and Markets Authority – which takes over the roles of the Competition Commission and Office of Fair Trading from April – and for the process of selling branches.

But there is a quicker and simpler solution to this problem. It is for the government to use its ownership of two of the big four banks, RBS and Lloyds, to direct more lending to small businesses. Thanks to the bailout following the 2008 financial crisis, RBS is 81% owned by the government. This means it can tell RBS what to do. It also owns 33% of Lloyds, and while this does not give it a total control over the bank, it is well above what is normally considered a "controlling stake" in an enterprise.

Now, if you can basically tell two of the four largest banks what to do – say, to increase lending to small businesses – why go through the rigmarole of calculating their market shares and forcing them (and the other two) to sell off some of their branches?

The usual refrain is that Westminster cannot make RBS and Lloyds do things differently because, in order to survive, these banks need to behave like other competitors: generating as much profit and paying their staff as much.

This argument may be right if the existing business model of British banks and other financial companies is fine. But it is not. It is a business model that has caused the biggest financial crisis in 70 years and created imbalances and inequalities that threaten the future viability of the British economy. The fact that the political class, including Miliband himself, cannot even imagine state-owned banks ditching such a model is a testimony to the power of the financial industry lobby.

From the day when RBS and Lloyds were bailed out, the Labour government was at pains to emphasise it would run them along the same lines as before nationalisation. The only thing for which Labour and, subsequently, the coalition government have used the government's dominant shareholding position has been to restrain bonuses. But this is really missing the point.

The problem with bonuses in the financial industry is not about their levels – if someone makes a huge contribution to the economy, he or she should be richly rewarded. The main problem is that these bonuses are given to people for doing the wrong things well – things that harm the economy in order to enrich the shareholders, the top managers of banks and other financial firms.

So the real question is how we make banks and other financial firms pursue the right goals, rather than how much people should be paid, whether in bonuses or salaries. And the only way to make them pursue different goals from those they pursue now is to change the rules of the game.

Unfortunately, few regulations have been introduced since the crisis that have materially changed the goals of financial companies. The result has been "business as usual".

All those complex and risky financial products that were at the centre of the 2008 financial crisis – such as mortgage-backed securities, collateralised debt obligations, credit default swaps and other financial derivatives – are back in vogue again.

The credit rating agencies, whose incompetence and cynicism in rating those financial products has become legendary after the crisis, are still operating in the same way.

Thanks to Help to Buy, the mortgage-lending market is nearly back to its old self. Now you can get loans that are 95% equal to the value of the house – not quite the 125% you could get before the crisis, but nearly there.

In the absence of measures to encourage longer-term shareholding – for instance, by granting more votes or tax advantages – short term-oriented shareholders are still reigning supreme, putting pressures on banks to generate short-term profits, whatever the consequences.

The main problem with the British financial industry is not the level of bonus, or even the concentration in the banking sector; it is that the industry is pursuing goals that are detrimental to the long-term economic viability of the country, in the process enriching only a tiny minority and sapping human and financial resources from the rest of the economy.

Unless those goals are changed through better regulation, the industry will remain harmful to the rest of the economy, whatever we do about bonuses and market concentration.

Cost of living? What about the cost of being dead?

The spiralling price of funerals is a symptom of the triumph of the market and the accompanying poverty of civic life

 

• 
• • Zoe Williams
  • The Guardian, Tuesday 21 January 2014 18.36 GMT

There is 'always the tacit suggestion that if you cared a tiny bit more, you would pay a tiny bit extra. It is, again, the things we don't talk about that cost us the most, the reckoning that happens in the dark.' Illustration by Belle Mellor

"F uneral poverty" – that's the phrase they use at the National Association of Funeral Directors. Like "fuel poverty", "heat poverty" and "child poverty", this is just a long way of saying "poverty": another way to express the situation in which an event or thing that everybody will sometime need is nevertheless hopelessly out of reach of a fair proportion of them. One in five people can't afford funerals – given that the "cost of dying" now averages £7,622, the number of people who are knocked sideways by it financially, for years afterwards, probably considerably exceeds 20%.

That phrase "the cost of dying" has sacrificed accuracy for tact. This is the cost of being dead: the funeral, the cars, probate, the flowers that say "Best Dad Ever", the burial or cremation. If you factor in the costs before death, it's eye-popping. People rarely drop down dead. They have protracted illnesses, they seem like they're going to die and then don't; all emergencies are real, and to count the cost of anything would be sacrilege, and a fast track to bankruptcy.

This inability to tether the process to reality is an offshoot of being unable to talk about death: any discussion of the realities around it is seen to cheapen it. Death, when it eventually arrives, comes at the end of galloping spending, like typhoid at the end of a winter of malnutrition. If they say it costs seven grand, that is a good deal less than it has actually cost.

Why is this news? Because it's not simply expensive, it is "inflation busting", having gone up by 80% since 2004. It sounds like a lot; in fact, energy costs are still worse, having more than doubled over the same period. But that comparison doesn't help, merely ramming home the unaffordability of life in a world where costs soar and wages plateau.

There are a couple of reasons specific to the funeral business for these price rises, however, and both say something about the market generally. First, the cost of a burial plot has increased, as the cost of land has gone up. This makes it a postcode lottery, in which a death in rural Wales will be slightly less crippling than one in Wimbledon; but all postcodes have stayed in the slipstream of inflation, whether their land value has gone up or not. This is at the outermost ripple of the situation we've created for ourselves in which our land is worth much more than anything we earn or do or produce. Can we afford to be buried? Can we afford town halls? Zoos? Can students afford to live near universities?

Basically, no. Those days when a city was built to serve its inhabitants, with the commonly used areas in the middle and the private housing round the edge – those days when the centre of town contained things useful to a population, things like fire stations and schools? Those days are over. Those days have been sold to a Russian oligarch, whose nationality is, of course, not relevant from a racist point of view; it is there to underline how physically distant are the people whose interests are being served by the new equations.

An interesting side point is that councils, ratcheting up burial costs to keep pace with the value of the land, rack up cremation costs at the same time. Well, duh, why wouldn't you? You're in charge; it's not as though anyone can shop around. And here, bad ethics have chased out good ethics, since the latter are the instincts from which the private sector protects itself with competition. Councils shouldn't have to dream up checks and balances to stop themselves ripping off the communities they serve.

But even where competition does thrive, in the funeral industry itself, you see the spectacle of the ceremonial rip-off, wedding economics done sotto voce. Everybody makes poor financial decisions when they're recently bereaved. We put a notice in the Times for my dad, saying, "After a short and ultimately quite half-hearted fight with cancer, Mark Williams has died". Dropped 400 quid making a weak joke at a dead man's expense. And in the Times!

But that doesn't excuse the relentless upselling of the funeral director, the stupid lacquers and extra-price finishes, and always the tacit suggestion that if you cared a tiny bit more, you would pay a tiny bit extra. It is, again, the things we don't talk about that cost us the most, the reckoning that happens in the dark.

"What do people do," John Humphrys asked on BBC radio's Today programme, of Kate Woodthorpe from the University of Bath, "if they just can't afford a funeral?" The council does it, naturally – someone has to. The deceased themselves are too dead to fail. Humphrys and Woodthorpe then reminisced, briefly, about the days when a "pauper's funeral" was a source of shame, when people's own sense of propriety prevailed.

This is a classic manoeuvre – you take financial pressures that are quintessentially modern and then nostalgically lament the fact that people don't deal with them as they would have in the olden days. Expensive heating? In the olden days, they would have worn more jumpers. Unaffordable funerals? They would have saved harder. Food poverty? They would have eaten more potatoes.

All those things may be true, but that era was never characterised by acquiescence. The same people who were too proud for a pauper's funeral would have been too proud to be priced out of their own civic space, out of their own life cycle.

Lottery of NHS drugs punishes the dying

Thousands of patients denied life-extending treatments approved by health watchdog

Despite certain drugs approved by the NHS rationing body, at least 14,000 patients a year are not receiving them Photo: ALAMY

By Laura Donnelly, Health Correspondent

7:42PM GMT 21 Jan 2014

154 Comments

Thousands of patients suffering from cancer and other serious illnesses are being denied the drugs they need from the NHS, according to a report.

Even though the treatments have been approved by the health service rationing body, at least 14,000 patients a year are not receiving them.

As many as one in three of those suffering from some types of cancer are going without medication that could extend their lives, the figures show.

Experts said the report, from the Health and Social Care Information Centre, a government quango that provides NHS statistics and analysis of trends in health and social care, exposed an “endemic and disastrous postcode lottery” of care within the health service.

Charities said the findings were “alarming” and meant patients were being condemned to an early death because local NHS bodies were failing to fund drugs even though they had been proven to work. 

When the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (Nice) was created by the last Labour government, officials promised to end the variation in medical treatment across the country and ensure that if a drug was found to be effective, patients should not have to fight to get it.

However, the findings show that thousands of patients suffering from cancer, motor neurone disease and an eye condition which is the most common cause of blindness, are not being given the best medication.

The research examined 10 common treatments which have been backed by Nice, meaning they should be given to all patients who require them.

It found that in three of the groups, there was a gulf between the number of patients who should have been given the drugs and the numbers who were actually prescribed them.

The worst findings were for kidney cancer, which affects more than 8,000 patients a year, and for a form of motor neurone disease which affects almost 3,000 people.

One in three patients who could have benefited from sunitinib (which has the brand name Sutent) and pazopanib (brand name Votrient), life-extending drugs for kidney cancer, or from riluzole (brand name Rilutek), the only treatment for motor neurone disease, did not receive them.

More than 12,000 patients were denied injections for wet age-related macular degeneration (AMD), the most common cause of vision loss and blindness.

Nice makes rulings on whether drugs are effective and good value, but has been criticised for refusing to support drugs in the face of evidence that they can extend lives by months or even years, and for delaying decisions.

But the findings suggest that even when Nice says NHS bodies must fund the drugs, thousands of patients are still denied medication.

Charities said too many terminally-ill patients ended up fighting bureaucratic procedures in an attempt to secure NHS funding for treatment.

In other cases, they were never told about drugs such as Sutent, which can double life expectancy with kidney cancer to 28 months, and was approved by Nice more than four years ago.

Andrew Wilson, the chief executive of the Rarer Cancers Foundation, said patients were suffering from “an endemic postcode lottery in access to Nice-approved medicines”.

“It is extremely worrying that the NHS does not seem to be making available cancer treatments to all patients who could benefit, even when the drug is approved by Nice,” he said.

Nick Turkentine, the chief operating officer of the James Whale Fund for Kidney Cancer, said the failure to follow national guidance was “a disaster” for patients with aggressive cancers. He said: “Sutent was one of the first drugs to be approved for kidney cancer — it is really disastrous that patients are still having to battle for a drug which we know can give several extra years of life.”

Duleep Allirajah, the head of policy at Macmillan Cancer Support, said: “Patients do not choose which cancer they get. Every patient deserves equal access to treatment no matter who they are, where they are from, or which cancer they have.”

A spokesman for Nice said the organisation hoped the report would help ensure that guidance was followed more widely, and that local NHS groups needed to be able to justify variations from it.

A spokesman for the Department of Health said: “Patients have a right to drugs and treatments that have been approved by Nice and we expect the NHS to provide them if they are needed.

“That is why the chief executive of the NHS has written to the local NHS requiring them to publish which NHS organisations are funding and using drugs and treatments approved by Nice, and which are not.”

Drugs whose use was lower than expected:

• Riluzole (Rilutek) - the only treatment for motor neurone disease - 35 per cent of patients who would have been expected to receive the drugs did not.

• Sunitnib (Sutent) and pazopanib (Votrient) for kidney cancer - 32 per cent of patients who would have been expected to receive the drugs did not.

• Ranibizumab (Lucentis) - the most effective treatment for wet age-related macular degeneration, which can cause blindness - 5 per cent of patients who would have been expected to receive the drugs did not.

The truth is we are all living on Benefits Street

Everyone is on the take, and whole industries are on white-collar subsidies. Some of us are just smarter at concealing it

• 
• • Simon Jenkins
  • The Guardian, Tuesday 21 January 2014 19.00 GMT

‘Child benefits, agriculture subsidies, wind-farm subsidies, house-buying subsidies, arts subsidies and tax avoidance schemes may satisfy the political and electoral goals of passing ministries, but then so do subsidies to the poor.’ Photograph: Alamy/DPA

Let's face it, we all live on Benefits Street. The Channel 4 series may be raising hackles to left and right, but I doubt if there is a person reading this column who is not "on the take" in some sense. We may work a bit, mostly obey the law and not look a total mess, but then we are not really poor. We can still be "on benefit", and some of us are rich because of it.

I was once driving down a country lane with a diplomat friend when we slowed to a crawl behind a tractor. My friend finally lost patience and blurted out that he could count "seven different subsidies" holding us up ahead. He listed them in a rage.

I proceeded to ask after his relocation allowances, subsidised school fees and index-linked pension. He retorted with my heating grants, tax deductions and charity reliefs. I asked which state-funded arts consultancy employed his daughter and which awareness-raising quango kept his son from occupying the family nest. We were about to deflect to the banker in a nearby Cotswold manor, snorting his quantitative easing, when the tractor turned off into a higher-level stewardship meadow to plan a subsidised wind farm. We bowled on down our own benefits lane.

We are all on the game: some of us are just smarter at concealing it. I have a book on my shelf by the Americans Mark Zepezauer and Arthur Naiman called Take the Rich Off Welfare. It glares down at me whenever I think of writing about poverty. It shows how well-heeled Americans, starting in the Reagan years, cornered the lion's share of public spending. They had capital depreciations, fiscal reliefs, muni bonds, fuel subsidies, bailouts, price supports, cultivated waste and tax frauds. It was called "wealthfare".

This was no leftwing tract. It merely pointed out that "wealthfare costs the American taxpayer some three-and-a-half times the cost of welfare for the poor". The relentlessness of the rich lobbying Congress for tax breaks and subsidies meant "the US government today functions mostly as a huge Robin Hood in reverse". If there is money going begging, those who beg loudest get most.

By this book lay other revelations of fiscal outrage. There was The Sacred Cow (agriculture), Putting Patients Last (the NHS), The Terrible Truth about Lawyers (law), A Dinosaur in Whitehall (defence) and Plundering the Public Sector (consultants). The loftier the profession, the wilder the scams. Looming over them was JK Galbraith's pre-crash diatribe, The Economics of Innocent Fraud. After skimming this lot, I thought Benefits Street was like a meeting of the Mothers' Union.

Of course, many of these beneficiaries do serious jobs and rarely break the law. But then, they can get their hands on other people's money without stealing it. One in five British employees now works for the state. In addition to their pay, they have negotiated index-linked pensions that cost the taxpayer £9bn a year, beyond the dreams of those working for themselves.

This is merely the tip of the iceberg. Child benefits, agriculture subsidies, wind-farm subsidies, house-buying subsidies, arts subsidies and tax avoidance schemes may satisfy the political and electoral goals of passing ministries, but then so do subsidies to the poor. Benefits Street's denizens may do drugs, door-to-door selling, odd jobs and pilfering. At least I know them. Running down the Guardian's interactive guide, Visualising Whitehall, I am not sure what is meant by "corporate development, change delivery, compliance strategy". They sound like upmarket benefits scrounging to me. I am sure Benefits Street's White Dee would say she was in human resources strategic delivery if she realised it held the key to George Osborne's wallet.

Whole industries are on white-collar Benefits Street. Higher education, despite fees, is a cross-subsidy from taxpayers (including the poor) to mostly middle-class students and professors, now to the tune of billions of pounds a year. The construction industry is a monument of public plutocracy. Having pocketed £9bn from the Olympics, it is now building Crossrail and hopes to win HS2 and Heathrow Three. Its housebuilders are eating their way through Osborne's soaring subsidies. These projects are essentially tax transfers from poor to relatively (or very) rich.

"Austerity Osborne" claims to be cutting back on public sector jobs to boost private ones. He is shortening Benefits Street to lengthen Enterprise Alley. Public sector employment is falling overall, but the fall is in lower-paid local government jobs outside Osborne's control. His personal Benefits Street, known as Whitehall, actually grew last year by 50,000 jobs. Austerity is always for the other guy.

Eight years ago, David Craig's Plundering the Public Sector calculated that 10 years of New Labour had seen £70bn vanish from taxes into management consultancy, PFI and IT fees, to no noticeable public gain. Most Whitehall IT projects had been fiascos, and there is a new one each week. The beneficiaries have been the rich: firms such as KPMG, Deloitte, PwC, Capita, Serco, McKinsey and others. Today's public accounts committee may howl about waste, but the stable is bare and the horses are over the horizon laden with gold.

None of this approaches the greatest benefits scam of all, the accumulation of public and private debt incurred by today's citizens at the expense of future taxpayers and interest payers. Britain's public and private debt together runs to some 500% of GDP, by far the highest ratio in history. Such benefits to today's citizens – in pensions, housing, travel, lifestyle – are at the expense of tomorrow.

As Niall Ferguson said in The Great Degeneration, his 2012 Reith lectures revised in book form, equitable finances have long relied on trust between one generation and the next. He concludes: "The enormous inter-generational transfers implied by current fiscal policies [are] a shocking and perhaps unparalleled breach" in that trust. The young are entitled to see parents and grandparents as all on benefits at their expense. The pensions time-bomb is real.

Like all journalism, Benefits Street tells a partial truth. Its lesson is banal, that any group of people will live according to their means. At least Iain Duncan Smith is making the first ever serious effort at reform – crippled by computer failure by another sub-contractor beneficiary. But in fairness, Channel 4 should now go for somewhere far harder. It should move from Benefits Street to Subsidy Row and dig out the serious scroungers.