The Office for National Statistics, that beloved purveyor of bleak tidings from the land of queuing and grumbling, has confirmed the UK economy has contracted. Again. Because of course it has. This time the excuse du jour is the deepening impact of the Iran war. Or as we called it in my day, 'a jolly good reason to raise the price of petrol and gin imports concurrently.' The Treasury, all starched collars and sweat-drenched brows, is bracing for a recession. As if the previous ones were just a light stretch before the main event.
Apparently, the GDP shrank by 0.2% in the last quarter. I could have told you that from the sheer volume of mournful sighs emanating from my local Wetherspoons. The economy is like a particularly stubborn geriatric on a mobility scooter: it moves forward with a wheeze, tilts alarmingly at corners, and every now and then just stops dead outside a Greggs.
Chancellor Jeremy Hunt, a man whose face looks like it was painted by a committee of undertakers, has announced that he will 'do whatever it takes' to stabilise the ship. Which presumably means he will sit in a dark room and mutter 'strong and stable' at a portrait of Margaret Thatcher until the numbers improve. The official line is that higher energy costs, supply chain disruptions, and the generalised mood of 'oh god, not again' have all contributed to the downturn. But we know the real reason: the Iran war has spooked the markets, and the markets, being the jittery, coked-up hamsters they are, have responded by dropping their nuts and soiling their running wheels.
Let us not forget the sterling, which has gone from being a respectable currency to something you'd use to line a budgie's cage. The pound is so weak it can barely lift a pint. Meanwhile, inflation continues to eat into your wages like a termite with a grudge. The Bank of England, led by the inscrutable Andrew Bailey (a man who looks like he's perpetually trying to remember where he left his gardening gloves), will now have to decide whether to raise interest rates again. Because nothing says 'help for the struggling economy' like making mortgages unaffordable for an entire generation.
The irony is, while the Treasury frets, the real economy is being run by a coalition of panic and denial. Small business owners are converting their shops into combination tanning salons/prayer rooms. Landlords are demanding rent in gold bullion or firstborn children. And the average Briton? They are doing what they always do: complaining, forming orderly queues outside charity shops, and pretending that a 'staycation' in Skegness is a valid substitute for Greece.
As for the Iran war, nobody really knows what it's about anymore. Something about nuclear centrifuges and regional dominance. But the real conflict is between our desire for cheap petrol and our vague sense that we probably shouldn't be bombing anyone. The government, in its infinite wisdom, has chosen to support the effort with 'robust diplomatic measures,' which is code for sending strongly worded letters while simultaneously jacking up the defence budget.
So here we are. The economy is shrinking, the Treasury is a sweaty mess, and the only thing growing is the national debt and the number of air fryers being bought on credit. As a gonzo journalist of some repute, I can only recommend the traditional British response: brew a cup of tea, stare blankly at the news, and mutter 'utter shambles' until the vodka kicks in. We may be heading into a recession, but at least we'll have queue to keep us company.
