We are rushing down the beach. In the gloom just before dawn, people are waiting by the seashore, a few hundred metres away.
We can see a dinghy out at sea. And then a voice rings out, in Kurdish.
“Whose passengers are you?”
In the half-light, the people smuggler thinks we are customers here to clamber on to the boat, and wants to know who we had paid.
We tell him we’re journalists.
“Keep out of the way,” he warns.
There are several dozen people gathered together, standing on the shoreline, moving anxiously from side to side.
Image: Migrants wait for a dinghy as they prepare to cross the Channel to reach the UK
I can see some women and children, but most of the passengers are men.
Some are clinging to a bag of possessions; others have nothing but the clothes they stand in. A man has his child held up on his shoulders.
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Just about everyone is wearing a life jacket.
Just beyond, the boat is coming near the shore, already half full of people.
It seems impossible that all the people on the land can really fit into the space left in the boat, but that’s what happens.
On a signal, the movement starts – the younger men clamber in first, and then help the women, children and older people to get into the boat.
It all happens remarkably quickly. From a distance, migrant boats may look ramshackle and chaotic, but when you get up close, there is method and practice.
Some people jump off; the men who didn’t have life jackets on.
It becomes clear that these are the smugglers – or, more accurately, the smugglers’ assistants who have been sent to sort things out.
On one side, we see a moment of tension as two passengers square up – one accuses the other of not leaving a space for him to get aboard.
Image: A shoe left in the sand following the attempted crossing
It is a faintly ridiculous squabble, like something between two drunk men in a pub, and it blows over. They end up sitting next to each other, brooding.
And then the engine is started and the boat sets off. At first, it’s a failure – the boat, low in the water with around 70 people on board, gets stuck on a small bar of sand and spins around.
But, with a push here and there, it gets going and slowly chugs away into the mist of the morning.
‘Migrants are desperate’
We turn around. The smugglers are leaving. We shout a question – are all these people Kurds?
“All of them,” he says. “These are the last Kurdish customers I have. There are no more.”
“Why not?”
And his answer is one succinct word: “Rwanda.”
The smugglers, dressed in black, disappear into the gloom.
We can just about see them clambering into the dunes, and then they are gone. It is a good ten minutes before we see the police – four officers marching down the beach.
They ask only two questions – firstly, did we see women and children on the boat (yes) and secondly, had the boat been launched from the beach (no).
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They’d only just started their patrol, one of the officers tells me. He looks at the calm waters and shrugs. It could be busy.
Over the course of that night, we had seen plenty of police officers. We’d been questioned on the beach, checked as we walked near the beach and then pulled over at a road block.
We’d chatted with a team of CRS riot officers on the beach, one of whom bemoaned the fact that so few people grasped the sheer complexity of what they took on.
“It is so, so complicated – the migrants are desperate, and they can get everywhere. We cannot have a team in every place, at every time.”
It turned out that the road block officers were exactly the same team who we’d met on a different beach the previous evening.
“Ah, Sky News you are back,” he said, with a smile and a handshake.
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We meet two young Sudanese men who tell us they are determined to get to Britain. When I ask if they’re worried about the Rwanda plan, they look blank. They’ve never heard of it.
And then we drop into a migrant camp that is growing in size and bump into another group of Kurds.
They are cooking food – this is the cafe for the migrants – and brewing tea that is strong, and scented with cinnamon.
They give me a cup. It’s delicious.
Omar is kneading dough, making crispy flatbread, and serving it with yoghurt. And he talks as he cooks, serving a remarkable story.
Image: At a migrant camp in France that is growing in size, people kneed bread
Two years ago, Omar left Kurdistan and paid a smuggler $15,000 (£12,000) to get him to Britain. He was there for 20 months, suffered a stroke, failed to gain asylum and ended up paying a smuggler £500 to get him out of Britain and back to this squalid camp in France.
Yes, you read that correctly. He paid to be smuggled out of Britain, and back to France.
“Here there is no washing or bath,” he says.
“You can’t clean yourself. Life is hard. But in Britain I had to give my fingerprints and signature regularly. Once every two weeks.
Image: Omar, who paid to be smuggled out of the UK after a failed asylum claim, speaks to Adam Parsons
“Then I was told they had turned me down for asylum. I couldn’t cope with Britain anymore.
“They could arrest me and send me to Rwanda or Iraq. Rwanda – I cannot go there.
“So that’s why I came back here, to this place. But I have no money. I am 52 years old. It’s a terrible feeling to be back here, but what can I do?”
Listening to him is Barzan, who arrived in the camp five days ago after eight months on the road since leaving Kurdistan.
By striking contrast, he is not remotely bothered by the Rwanda plan.
“People won’t stop, whatever you tell them.
“Even if you tell them they will be taken to Africa, they would still go without hesitation. Rwanda is better than Kurdistan.
“But in Britain there is work. The currency is strong. I’m young and I want to make a life for myself.”
Another voice is raised – a man named Karwan.
Image: A man named Karwan, who wants to cross the Channel from France to the UK
He hears the word Rwanda, shrugs, smiles and shakes his head: “I think it’s a joke. Two years ago they started going on about Rwanda and nothing came of it.
“Now, it’s just for the sake of the election. Nothing else.”
You know bad economic news is looming when a Chancellor of the Exchequer tries to get their retaliation in first.
Treasury guidance on Tuesday afternoon that Rachel Reeves has prioritised easing the cost of living had to be seen in the light of inflation figures, published this morning, and widely expected to rise above 4% for the first time since the aftermath of the energy crisis.
In that context the fact consumer price inflation in September remained level at 3.8% counts as qualified good news for the Treasury, if not consumers.
The figure remains almost double the Bank of England target of 2%, the rate when Labour took office, but economists at the Bank and beyond do expect this month to mark the peak of this inflationary cycle.
That’s largely because the impact of higher energy prices last year will drop out of calculations next month.
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5:27
Inflation sticks at 3.8%
The small surprise to the upside has also improved the chances of an interest rate cut before the end of the year, with markets almost fully pricing expectations of a reduction to 3.75% by December, though rate-setters may hold off at their next meeting early next month.
September’s figure also sets the uplift in benefits from next April so this figure may improve the internal Treasury forecast, but at more than double the rate a year ago it will still add billions to the bill due in the new year.
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10:13
Minister ‘not happy with inflation’
For consumers there was good news and bad, and no comfort at all from the knowledge that they face the highest price increases in Europe.
Fuel prices rose but there was welcome relief from the rate of food inflation, which fell to 4.5% from 5.1% in August, still well above the headline rate and an unavoidable cost increase for every household.
The chancellor will convene a meeting of cabinet ministers on Thursday to discuss ways to ease the cost of living and has signalled that cutting energy bills is a priority.
The easiest lever for her to pull is to cut the VAT rate on gas and electricity from 5% to zero, which would reduce average bills by around £80 but cost £2.5bn.
More fundamental reform of energy prices, which remain the second-highest in Europe for domestic bill payers and the highest for industrial users, may be required to bring down inflation fast and stimulate growth.
Schools need to be “brave enough” to talk about knives, Sky News has been told, as the killer of Sheffield teenager Harvey Willgoose is sentenced today.
His killer, who was also 15 and cannot be identified for legal reasons, had brought a 13cm hunting knife into school.
Image: Harvey Willgoose. Pic: Sophie Willgoose
Following Harvey’s murder, his parents Caroline and Mark Willgoose told Sky News they wanted to see knife arches in “all secondary schools and colleges”.
“It’s 100% a conversation, I think, that we need to be empowered and brave enough to have,” says Katie Crook, associate vice principal of Penistone Grammar School.
The school, which teaches 2,000 pupils, is just a few miles away from where Harvey was killed.
After being contacted by the Willgoose family, it has decided to install a knife arch.
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The arch – essentially a walk-through metal detector – has been described as a “reassuring tool” and “real success” by school leaders.
“We’re really lucky here that we don’t have a knife crime problem – but we are on the forefront with safeguarding initiatives,” says Mrs Crook.
“I didn’t really think we needed one at first,” says Izzy, 14. “But then I guess at Harvey’s school they wouldn’t think that either and then it did actually happen.”
Joe, 15, says he did find the knife arch “intimidating” at first.
“But after using it a couple of times,” he says, “it’s just like walking through a doorway”.
“And it’s that extra layer of, like, you feel secure in school.”
After Harvey’s death, then home secretary Yvette Cooper said that she would support schools in the use of knife arches.
But there remains no official government policy or national guidance on their use.
Some headteachers who spoke with Sky News feel knife arches aren’t the answer – saying the issue required a societal approach.
Others said knife arches themselves were a significant expense to schools.
But Mrs Crook says they are “well worth the funding” if they prevent “a student making a catastrophic decision”.
“I’m a parent and, of course, my focus every day is keeping our students safe, just as I want my son to be kept safe in his setting and his school.”
Mrs Crook says she thinks schools would “welcome” a discussion at “national level” about the use of knife arches and other knife-related deterrents in schools.
“It’s sad, though that this is what it’s come to, that we’re having lockdown drills in the UK, in our school settings.
“But I suppose some might argue that has been needed for a long time.”
If you eat beef, and ever stop to wonder where and how it’s produced, Jonathan Chapman’s farm in the Chiltern Hills west of London is what you might imagine.
A small native herd, eating only the pasture beneath their hooves in a meadow fringed by beech trees, their leaves turning to match the copper coats of the Ruby Red Devons, selected for slaughter only after fattening naturally during a contented if short existence.
But this bucolic scene belies the turmoil in the beef market, where herds are shrinking, costs are rising, and even the promise of the highest prices in years, driven by the steepest price increase of any foodstuff, is not enough to tempt many farmers to invest.
For centuries, a symbolic staple of the British lunch table, beef now tells us a story about spiralling inflation and structural decline in agriculture.
Mr Chapman has been raising beef for just over a decade. A former champion eventing rider with a livery yard near Chalfont St Giles, the main challenge when he shifted his attention from horses to cows was that prices were too low.
“Ten years ago, the deadweight carcass price for beef was £3.60 a kilo. We might clear £60 a head of cattle,” he says. “The only way we could make the sums add up was to process and sell the meat ourselves.”
Processing a carcass doubles the revenue, from around £2,000 at today’s prices to £4,000. That insight saw his farm sprout a butchery and farm shop under the Native Beef brand. Today, they process two animals a week and sell or store every cut on site, from fillet to dripping.
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Today, farmgate prices are nearly double what they were in 2015 at £6.50 a kilo, down slightly from the April peak of almost £7, but still up around 25% in a year.
For consumers that has made paying more than £5 for a pack of mince the norm. For farmers, rising prices reflect rising costs, long-term trends, and structural changes to the subsidy regime since Brexit.
“Supply and demand is the short answer,” says Mr Chapman.
“Cow numbers have been falling roughly 3% a year for the last decade, probably in this country. Since Brexit, there is virtually no direct support for food in this country. Well over 50% of the beef supply would have come from the dairy herd, but that’s been reducing because farmers just couldn’t make money.”
Political, environmental and economic forces
Beef farmers also face the same costs of trading as every other business. The rise in employers’ national insurance and the minimum wage have increased labour costs, and energy prices remain above the long-term average.
Then there is the weather, the inescapable variable in agriculture that this year delivered a historically dry summer, leaving pastures dormant, reducing hay and silage yields and forcing up feed costs.
Native Beef is not immune to these forces. Mr Chapman has reduced his suckler herd from 110 to 90, culling older cows to reduce costs this winter. If repeated nationally, the full impact of that reduction will only be fully clear in three years’ time, when fewer calves will reach maturity for sale, potentially keeping prices high.
That lag demonstrates one of the challenges in bringing prices down.
Basic economics says high prices ought to provide an opportunity and prompt increased supply, but there is no quick fix. Calves take nine months to gestate and another 20 to 24 months to reach maturity, and without certainty about price, there is greater risk.
There is another long-term issue weighing on farmers of all kinds: inheritance tax. The ending of the exemption for agriculture, announced in the last budget and due to be imposed from next April, has undermined confidence.
Neil Shand of the National Beef Association cites farmers who are spending what available capital they have on expensive life insurance to protect their estates, rather than expanding their herds.
“The farmgate price is such that we should be in an environment that we should be in a great place to expand, there is a market there that wants the product,” he says. “But the inheritance tax challenge has made everyone terrified to invest in something that will be more heavily taxed in the future.”
While some of the issues are domestic, the UK is not alone.
Beef prices are rising in the US and Europe too, but that is small consolation to the consumer, and none at all to the cow.