Smug Osborne deals whacks with cuddles

George Osborne’s first Budget resembled one of those old-fashioned machines you can still find at seaside piers and funfairs where you hold a rubber mallet and have to thump a succession of rodents that pop out of holes in the floor.

The banks? Whack! The rich? Whack! The middle-class? Whack! The deserving poor? Whack! The undeserving poor? Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

The problem at the fun fair is that the creatures refuse to stay whacked and pop back up with increasing rapidity. This may turn out to be one of Mr Osborne’s lingering difficulties. But he balanced the whacks with a few cuddles, and the response from Harriet Harman, the opposition’s acting leader, was incoherent. So, with the country in its current masochistic mood, the Budget will probably be judged a success.

The main problem, listening to it, was Mr Osborne’s rhetorical style, which was heard so little while he was secreted in a place of safety during the election campaign. He conveys the total certainty associated with people who are either hearing the voice of the deity or have no idea what they are talking about.

Given that the subject is economics, the least scientific of sciences, certainty is a dangerous tone of voice. One senses Mr Osborne could become – not merely the most vilified of chancellors, which he purports to relish – but the most irritating. Coming so soon after the long tenure of his predecessor-but-one, this would be some achievement.

Gordon Brown grew smugger as his chancellorship wore on. The new incumbent would find that difficult. On Tuesday he was already starting to parade his presumed achievements as though they had already happened, citing in evidence the support of the new Office for Budget Responsibility, run by officials he appointed himself. Am I alone in wondering how much more independent this is than the use of the old discredited Treasury forecasts?

“Governments in the past have said they will get to grips with welfare,” he said. “We are delivering.” Well, let’s wait and see about that.

Mr Osborne is setting the bar awfully high. He announced cuts in real terms for the unprotected government departments of 25 per cent – a statement that drew the sharpest collective intake of breath I have ever heard in the House of Commons – while at the same time protecting important capital projects to avoid the old folly of favouring spending over investment. That, as they say, is a big ask. He could try leaving smug until the memoirs.

The reaction from the House was instructive. Some of the benefit cuts drew forth ululation from female Labour backbenchers. The Lib Dem rank-and-file seemed distinctly pained and only a couple joined in the mass-waving of Tory order papers. Alongside the chancellor, Nick Clegg spent long periods in an apparent trance, as though he led the Natural Law party, which tried to convert the nation to the benefits of yogic flying. At other times, he went into full nodding-donkey mode. Near the end, Mr Clegg, David Cameron and Sir George Young, the leader of the house, were nodding in such vigorous head-and-shoulders unison that they resembled Hasidic worshippers at the Wailing Wall.

And then … poor Ms Harman. The impromptu attack on the Budget is a moment of terror for the most acute opposition leaders. Forced to endure this ordeal just this once, she knew it was not her forte and simply shouted her clichés fortissimo. A neutral could only feel pity. Jeremy Browne, the Liberal Democrat minister, sat with his hands protecting his head, as though someone was blowing a vuvuzela in his ear. Messrs Cameron and Osborne shared mocking glances and grins. Smug, as I say. Maybe even hubristic.