MY PRINT column this week listens to a chorus of criticism about George Osborne, the chancellor of the exchequer, and considers which bits might matter.

EVER since he delivered his budget to Parliament on March 21st, troubles have rained down on George Osborne. He has U-turned and dodged, to the press's glee. The chancellor's colleagues ask whether he is steering Britain on the right course, amid the most perilous economic storms in memory.

Some on the right of the Conservative Party loudly assail the chancellor, accusing him of lacking a credible plan for growth. They roll their eyes at Mr Osborne's blame-shifting argument that a British recovery, already slowed by high oil prices and debts bequeathed by the previous Labour government, is being “killed off” by chaos in the euro zone. The euro is a menace, such right-wingers agree. That is why a proper Tory chancellor would call for its early break-up, not urge European colleagues to save it.

A second group, among them lots of Tory MPs first elected in 2010, is less critical than crestfallen after a run of missteps from a man they had thought the political genius of their generation.

A final group of worriers includes figures close to the Conservative leadership (as well as allies of Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democratic bit of the coalition). These quiet loyalists still stand by Mr Osborne's Plan A—his gamble that in a debt crisis it is worth enduring painful spending cuts to reassure the markets and preserve Britain's low borrowing costs. But they wonder whether Plan A could do more for growth.

Of these three groups, right-wingers noisily critical of Mr Osborne and new MPs disappointed by him do not matter much. The quiet angst of coalition loyalists is a bigger problem.

Start with the angry right. For all their bluster, they do not want a Plan B, they want a more flinty Plan A. Their true-blue austerity would feature faster cuts to shrink the state, lower taxes, curb welfare costs and slash the foreign aid budget. They would boost business by ditching costly environmental pledges and make it easier to sack duff employees. In short, their Plan A is full of things that the Tory right always wants.

There are some novelties. Some on the right have developed a Gaullist enthusiasm for state-backed infrastructure, while remaining flinty Thatcherites in their views of current spending. Hang around the right sort of Tory donor or disgruntled business chief, and this hybrid position soon comes up. To caricature, they want Mr Osborne to dismantle the welfare state in order to pay for a new London airport.

Osborne allies are unruffled by all this. When under fire from Labour for cutting spending too fast, they say, it is helpful to have right-wingers saying the government is cutting too slowly: it makes the chancellor sound centrist. A new airport is being studied, they add, but mega-projects do not boost growth quickly. As for the right's belief that a swift euro-zone collapse would be a mercy, contingency planning suggests otherwise. The financial, contractual and even consular consequences of a chaotic break-up chill the blood (Treasury types still cite with awe the mess caused when tiny Iceland's currency imploded in 2008). The chancellor's support for euro-zone integration is born of pragmatism, not faith in federalism. Imagine the diplomatic costs of urging EU neighbours to let their currency die, allies say. Backing euro-zone integration is the least bad alternative.

The second group—disappointed Tory backbenchers—is still less of a threat. Like markets, parties over-correct, says a Tory MP: many 2010 newbies thought Mr Osborne had the Midas touch. Now they are sunk in excessive gloom. That does not mean lessons cannot be learned from the shambolic 2012 budget, and a string of small but humiliating about-turns on tax policy. Team Osborne was overconfident, his allies concede. Because the public had tolerated austerity measures that hit everyone, such as an across-the-board VAT rise, Team Osborne underestimated the perils of raising taxes on a few things, such as Cornish pasties.

Mr Osborne needs to shake this post-budget reputation for ineptitude before it sets hard. A new poll by Ipsos MORI finds him eight points behind the Labour shadow chancellor, Ed Balls, on economic competence: a setback for Mr Osborne since March, when he was level-pegging with Mr Balls. Most Tory MPs have not lost faith. They think Plan A will work in the end. In the meantime they would settle for more competence and fewer U-turns.

What of that third group—the quiet but fretful loyalists, both Conservative and Lib Dem? They want “Plan A plus-plus,” says a coalition source. That means sticking with austerity, while trying to think of ways to increase capital spending on things like social housing, schools or roads without spooking the bond markets. Various ideas are in circulation. The precise details matter less than the growing eagerness of coalition insiders to tweak Plan A.

The markets also want growth

Fretful loyalists worry that the chancellor currently prefers “clever wheezes” to nudge the private sector into spending, involving off-balance-sheet credit guarantees and the like. If the private sector is paralysed with fear, they say, such schemes amount to pushing on pieces of string.

Will he budge? Labour leaders would crow over any sign of adjustments to Plan A. Let them: Mr Balls's own ideas for boosting growth are populist and unconvincing, centred on such micro-wheezes as levies on bankers' bonuses and a temporary VAT cut to boost consumption. Mr Osborne showed boldness when drawing up Plan A. His cleverness is not in question. Enduring crowing from Mr Balls would merely require political bravery.

For all the noise and chatter about the chancellor in the press, the real story is that most Conservative and Lib Dem MPs are united behind his overall strategy. But some of the government's most thoughtful supporters are now worried about growth. They are not shouting loudly. Mr Osborne should still heed them.