More bad news in the latest numbers

Hours worked are down, the claimant count is up, fewer jobs are going and labour output is down.

Three more important data releases today put further nails in Osborne's economic coffin. The big news of the day was the ONS release of data on the labour market, which showed that all of the good news we had seen over earlier months this year has now gone into reverse.

First, the number of unemployed on the ILO count increased by 38,000 over the quarter to reach 2.49 million and the unemployment rate rose to 7.9 per cent.

Second, the claimant count in July 2011 was 1.56 million, up 37,100 on the previous month and up 98,600 on a year earlier.

Third, the unemployment rate for 16-to-24-year-olds was 20.2 per cent in the three months to June 2011, up 0.2 percentage points from the three months to March 2011.

There were 949,000 unemployed 16-to-24-year-olds in the three months to June 2011, up 15,000 from the three months to March 2011.

Fourth, though total employment is up on the year by 250,000, the total number of hours worked, which is a better measure of the labour input, was 910.6 million in the three months to June 2011, down 11.3 million from the three months to March 2011 and down by seven million from April-June 2010 when this government took office.

Fifth, in the three months to June 2011, 154,000 people had been made redundant, up 32,000 from the three months to March 2011 and up 4,000 from a year earlier.

Sixth, the number of job vacancies in the three months to July 2011 was down 22,000 on the three months to April 2011 and down 28,000 on a year earlier.

Seventh, regular pay growth remained benign at 2.2 per cent.

Chris Williamson, chief economist at Markit, commented:

Survey data indicates that unemployment is likely to continue to rise in coming months, as private-sector employers fail to make up for public-sector job cuts. The Markit/CIPS PMI survey showed companies reducing their headcounts in July due to concerns over the economic outlook and recruitment firms reported that the number of people they had placed in permanent jobs had risen at a rate only marginally higher than June's near two-year low. This tallies with official data showing that the number of job vacancies fell to the lowest in almost two years. Business confidence clearly needs to rise before employment growth will pick up again but, at the moment, the surveys suggest that companies remain worried about economic growth both at home and abroad and are generally erring towards cost-cutting rather than expansion.

None of this is good news.

Then there was the release of the Bank of England's agents' report on the economy, which suggested little evidence of growth in the economy. They reported evidence of weak growth in spending on consumer goods and services. The agents' score for growth in goods exports had fallen back somewhat from recent highs and a slowing in the pace of growth of manufacturing output, reflecting softening domestic demand.

Finally, the minutes of the August MPC meeting showed a vote of 9-0 for no change, which meant that the two inflation nutters Spencer Dale and Martin Weale had seen the error of their ways and reversed their wrongheaded votes for rate rises. Once again, my friend Adam Posen voted for more QE.

This paragraph is especially telling, suggesting the risks to the downside have increased:

The key risk to the downside remained that demand growth would not be sufficiently strong to absorb the pool of spare capacity in the economy, causing inflation to fall materially below target in the medium term. News over the month had generally reinforced the weak tone of indicators of global activity growth over the past few months, which had been particularly notable in data releases for the advanced economies. While some of the slowing would have reflected the impact of continuing disruption to global supply chains and the effects of the elevated price of oil, the committee judged it increasingly likely that the global slowdown would prove to be more prolonged than previously assumed.

Far from being vindicated, the data is giving Osborne and his failed economic strategy a deserved comeuppance. There has been zero positive news on the economic data front for some time now.

David Blanchflower is economics editor of the New Statesman and professor of economics at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire

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Mister Lizard is not at home to bailiffs – he is eating salmon pâté by the river

Why is it that when people answer the question “What’s the worst thing anyone’s ever said to you?” in the Guardian questionnaire they never say, “You’ve been served”?

Summer’s nearly over. I look at the angle of the sunlight as it strikes the back terrace of the Hovel. I have been here long enough to use the terrace as a gnomon marking the passage of the year. I need, like the protagonists of Withnail and I, to go to the countryside to rejuvenate.

Last week when the Perseids were meant to be in full flow I asked frantically on a social medium for people to chum me along on a midnight walk on Hampstead Heath. In the end my new friends A— and her husband, C—, together with his new friend (whose initial I have forgotten, but he is Australian, if that helps), stepped up to the plate and after a couple at the Flask we went on a wide-ranging tour, which was a bust as far as seeing meteors – or my favourite tree – went, but was still hugely enjoyable. At about 2 am they packed me into an Uber and I went home happy, but I still felt as if I could do with more countryside.

The next few days made me even more anxious to get out of London. There are ominous signs that some serious roadworks are going to be taking place outside my bedroom window any day now. A bailiff came and rang the doorbell and I didn’t have the heart, or the nerve, to say that Nicholas Lezard was not at home at the moment and, is, in fact, on a walking tour of Patagonia now I come to think of it, due back some time next year. I just took the piece of paper into my hands as if it were a chicken come home to roost.

The previous day, presumably the same bailiff had come round and asked if Mr Lizard was in, and my housemate gallantly – and quite truthfully – said “no”. (Why is it that when people answer the question “What’s the worst thing anyone’s ever said to you?” in the Guardian questionnaire they never say, “You’ve been served”? Maybe it’s because they haven’t ever been.) In addition, as I said last week, the cleaning lady is on holiday and the Hovel is starting to look distinctly seedy.

So, then I get a call from a person who once featured quite prominently in this column, some time ago. This person is bored and wants me to go to his or her town and alleviate his or her boredom. This person and I parted company in circumstances that were far from ideal some time ago, and only recently have diplomatic relations been resumed.

It is too late, I say, for me to get on the train now; but when I have reviewed the book I am meant to be reviewing, I will hop on the train tomorrow around noon. And so I do, despite some monkey business from the departures board at King’s Cross, which tells passengers the 12:44 has been cancelled, then hasn’t been, then has, then hasn’t after all, while the 12:14 has slipped away like a thief in the night without telling anyone it was doing so.

I wonder if my return to the town of ——— is wise. As a dog returneth to its vomit, so doth a fool return to his folly. And the burnt hand fears the fire. Look, I say to myself, all we’re doing is going to have a picnic by the river. As we buy our supplies, the stallholder at the market asks if I am my companion’s husband. “No, he’s my picnic buddy,” he or she replies. “Never heard it called that before,” says the stallholder.

And the day passes perfectly pleasantly. We have two bottles of wine, cheese and smoked salmon pâté with crusty bread. People in punts drift past us, with varying degrees of competence. I remember it is A-level results day and call the eldest boy to ask how he’s done. He’s done well enough, it turns out, to get a place at university, though he feels obliged to point out that his results came in exactly a year ago. This is the kind of thing that happens when the number of children you have exceeds your mental bandwidth.

Later on, a porter from the college behind which we are picnicking asks me if I am a member, or an alumni. “Alumnus,” I correct him gently, hoping that this should establish my credentials. He asks for my name, and he radios the porters’ lodge to check my veracity. For some reason it takes him several goes to get my name right.

One of these goes is “Lizard”. We offer him some cheese, but he refuses, on the grounds that he has just had a banana and a cup of tea. I could live in a guest room here, I reflect, at not much higher rent than one pays in London. And the beauty of it is that the police, and presumably bailiffs, have to ask permission to go through the gates. 

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser