In a display of sheer existential defiance that has left British economists reaching for the smelling salts and a second bottle of claret, the American economy has once again refused to roll over and play dead. GDP figures, employment numbers, and the sacred cow of consumer confidence have all defied the grim reaper's scythe, leaving Whitehall mandarins to mutter darkly about 'contagion risks' while polishing their austerity measures.
The news, which arrived via a series of increasingly frantic teleprinter messages from across the pond, has sent shockwaves through the genteel corridors of the Treasury. 'This is most irregular,' spluttered one senior civil servant, adjusting his pinstripes and reaching for a digestive biscuit. 'The American economy is supposed to be on fire. Instead, it's having a picnic.'
But fear not, dear reader, for Her Majesty's Government has a plan. A memo leaked from the Department for Business, Energy and Industrial Strategy (or whatever they're calling it this week) warns of the 'significant contagion risks' posed by a successful US economy. Among the suggested countermeasures: mandatory tea breaks, a new tax on optimism, and the immediate appointment of a Minister for Gloom.
The irony is, of course, that while the Yanks are busy printing money and building things, we are still arguing about the colour of the Brexit bus. Our own economic strategy appears to consist of nibbling our nether regions while hoping the world doesn't notice. The Chancellor, spotted emerging from a private club in St James's, was heard to mutter, 'If they can do it, why can't we? Oh, right, because we've spent the last decade systematically dismantling any shred of economic competence.'
Let us pause to consider the absurdity of the situation. The US economy, that great bloated beast of capitalism, has shrugged off trade wars, pandemics, and the utter bafflement of its own leadership. Meanwhile, the UK economy, once the proud engine of the Industrial Revolution, now resembles a rusty bicycle being pedalled by a man in a top hat who keeps falling off.
The contagion, we are told, is not the success itself but the dangerous notion that economic growth might be achievable without pain. The Treasury's response has been swift: a new taskforce to assess the impact of 'unexpected positivity' and a series of workshops on 'managing down expectations'. The Bank of England, ever the party pooper, has hinted at rate hikes to cool any misplaced enthusiasm.
But what of the common man, you ask? The average Briton, already battered by inflation, stagnant wages, and the relentless march of PPI ads, views the American boom with the same incredulity he reserves for lottery winners and unicorns. 'It's all very well for them,' said one punter in a Wetherspoon's in Slough, 'but we've got Countdown to watch.'
So here we stand, a nation of shopkeepers turned into a nation of hand-wringers, watching our transatlantic cousins throw a party while we polish the silver and fret about the neighbours. The UK's warning of contagion risks is less a forecast and more a prayer: please, let them fail so we don't have to try.
In the end, the only contagion that truly threatens us is the plague of pessimism that has infected our national psyche. Until we catch a dose of American-style chutzpah, we'll remain a nation of Eeyores, waiting for the next shoe to drop while the world marches on.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the airport to sample the gin. The queue for the US-bound flight is already out the door, but I plan to drown my sorrows in duty-free.
