In a development that has sent tremors through the Department for Work and Pensions, the Merseyside borough of St. Helens has reportedly achieved the impossible: it has single-handedly obliterated youth unemployment in the United Kingdom. Yes, you read that correctly. According to a press release so drenched in uncritical optimism it could have been penned by a hallucinating Treasury mandarin, the town has become a ‘national jobs beacon’ – a phrase that conjures images of a giant lighthouse at Anfield, but which actually means a few local businesses have hired some interns.
Let us pause to savour the sheer, unadulterated absurdity. The UK’s youth unemployment rate, a stubborn beast that has resisted the charms of every chancellor since Osborne, has apparently been slain by a combination of Jobcentre Plus wizardry and the indomitable spirit of Merseyside’s young people. I imagine the scene at the Jobcentre: a harried advisor waving a magic wand (bought from a pound shop) and declaring, “Your unemployment is crushed! Next!” Meanwhile, in reality, 500,000 young people remain NEET (Not in Education, Employment, or Training). But who needs reality when you have a press release?
The report, smuggled out of the Department for Levelling Up, Housing and Communities, boasts of ‘record low’ youth unemployment figures in St. Helens. Record low! I wonder if this record is measured against the time when the town’s main employer was a glassworks that closed in the 1980s. The accompanying graph, I am told, resembles a drunken snake that has been stepped on by a clown. But never mind. The government has its beacon. A beacon of hope, shining forth from a town where the average commute is now to a zero-hours contract at a warehouse the size of a small country.
The mathematics of this miracle are, naturally, exquisite. To achieve a ‘jobs beacon’ status, one must simply redefine what counts as employment. A part-time zero-hours gig that pays less than your rent? Employment. An unpaid internship at a digital marketing firm run by a man who calls himself ‘Disruptor Dan’? Employment. A scheme that involves sweeping the streets for three hours a week in exchange for continued benefits? You guessed it: employment. The government’s new metric for ‘youth employment’ is so broad that even my cat, who spends his days killing dust bunnies, could be classified as ‘self-employed in pest control’.
But let us not be churlish. St. Helens, a town that has weathered deindustrialisation with the stoic grace of a man who has just been told his pint costs five quid, deserves its moment in the sun. The local MP, a cheerful soul who has never met a photo opportunity he didn’t like, has been photographed clutching a giant cardboard key, which apparently unlocks the doors to ‘opportunity’. Opportunity, in this case, meaning a job at a call centre where the main skill required is the ability to absorb abuse from people who have been on hold for 45 minutes.
I have consulted my crystal ball (a snow globe from Heathrow’s duty-free) and I foresee a glittering future. Other boroughs will follow suit. Haringey will become a ‘starter home hub’ by converting council estates into micro-flats the size of garden sheds. Rotherham will become a ‘skills powerhouse’ by teaching everyone how to flip burgers. And the Youth of Britain, crushed no more, will rise up and give a collective thumbs up, as captured by a government photographer whose job depends on not capturing the expressions of quiet desperation that flicker across their faces.
In conclusion, I raise a glass of airport gin to the miracle of St. Helens. May its beacon shine brightly, illuminating the path to a future where all youth are employed, all jobs are fulfilling, and all press releases are accepted as scripture. Hallelujah.
