Greeks bearing debts

The euro was a bad idea in 1999, and it's a disaster now.

I have a long memory, and a thin skin, and often lie awake at night, grinding my teeth, reliving the insults born by Tories in our wilderness decades. I suppose it's too much to expect an apology from the politicians who were pro-Euro hysterics at our general elections, until quite recently? People like, ooh I don't know, Chris Huhne?

If we get rid of sterling and adopt the euro, we will also get rid of sterling crises and sterling overvaluations. This will give us a real control over our economic environment. (Chris Huhne, 2004).

Substitute "Greek drachma" for "Sterling", and that sentence reads really well now, doesn't it Chris? (Hat tip to Dan Hannan for a list of many similar, delicious-with-hindsight comments).

Setting Huhne's points aside, it's worth recalling the argument repeatedly made by those of us who didn't want to join the euro, because -- with respect to the Greek tragedy currently unfolding -- it was all so entirely predictable.

We said that a monetary union couldn't work, because a single interest rate for a continent of such disparate economies could not be suited to them all. Since the interest rate was likely to be set low to suit the productive Germans, it would spell inflationary doom for countries like Ireland and Greece.

No-one ever had an answer to the single interest rate dilemma. Part of the reason it was so compelling to most Conservatives (Ken Clarke, as ever, an honourable exception) was that we had lived through two examples where UK interest rates led to devastating domestic outcomes. The ERM fiasco of Black Wednesday is well-rehearsed. Less commented on is that we had all lived through what happened in the north of the UK in the 1980s, when an interest rate was necessarily set to control inflation in the south. If it's hard enough to make one rate suitable for a single state, it beggars belief that anyone imagined that a single rate could suit economies stretching from Dublin to Athens via Berlin.

As of course, it could not. The banking crises only exacerbated what was already evident: some countries had embarked on uncontrolled (by the ECB's central rate) inflationary bubbles of debt-funded spending. When the credit dried up, the crises set in. Now Greek government debt is worthless, and its people are rioting against the austerity measures imposed on them by the IMF, and the obvious route open to a country in such a terrible situation -- devalue your currency and hope for growth in exports -- is shut off from them, while they remain locked into the euro.

William Hague was derided in 2001 for likening the eurozone to being locked into a burning building with no exits. With apologies to the late, great Bob Monkhouse: they laughed when we said we didn't want to join the euro. They're not laughing now.

Not that being right in 2001 is any cause for cheer ten years later. In the morose phraseology of Douglas Carswell MP, we may have avoided the trap of monetary union, but we appear to have signed up for the accompanying debt union regardless. Still: leaving the euro must be Greece's least worst option. I know that exposure to Greek debt is worldwide, but (I'm sure an economist will tell me otherwise) would suffering that exposure be worse than throwing more good money after bad? Until which point?

Fans of the euro used to insist that it wouldn't, it couldn't be allowed to fail. I wonder how much of a soaraway success it feels to the people of Athens, today?

Graeme Archer is the 2011 Orwell Prize winner for blogging.

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Pity the Premier League – so much money can get you into all sorts of bother

You’ve got to feel sorry for our top teams. It's hard work, maintaining their brand.

I had lunch with an old girlfriend last week. Not old, exactly, just a young woman of 58, and not a girlfriend as such – though I have loads of female friends; just someone I knew as a girl on our estate in Cumbria when she was growing up and I was friendly with her family.

She was one of many kind, caring people from my past who wrote to me after my wife died in February, inviting me to lunch, cheer up the poor old soul. Which I’ve not been. So frightfully busy.

I never got round to lunch till last week.

She succeeded in her own career, became pretty well known, but not as well off financially as her husband, who is some sort of City whizz.

I visited her large house in the best part of Mayfair, and, over lunch, heard about their big estate in the West Country and their pile in Majorca, finding it hard to take my mind back to the weedy, runny-nosed little girl I knew when she was ten.

Their three homes employ 25 staff in total. Which means there are often some sort of staff problems.

How awful, I do feel sorry for you, must be terrible. It’s not easy having money, I said, managing somehow to keep back the fake tears.

Afterwards, I thought about our richest football teams – Man City, Man United and Chelsea. It’s not easy being rich like them, either.

In football, there are three reasons you have to spend the money. First of all, because you can. You have untold wealth, so you gobble up possessions regardless of the cost, and regardless of the fact that, as at Man United, you already have six other superstars playing in roughly the same position. You pay over the odds, as with Pogba, who is the most expensive player in the world, even though any halfwit knows that Messi and Ronaldo are infinitely more valuable. It leads to endless stresses and strains and poor old Wayne sitting on the bench.

Obviously, you are hoping to make the team better, and at the same time have the luxury of a whole top-class team sitting waiting on the bench, who would be desired by every other club in Europe. But the second reason you spend so wildly is the desire to stop your rivals buying the same players. It’s a spoiler tactic.

Third, there’s a very modern and stressful element to being rich in football, and that’s the need to feed the brand. Real Madrid began it ten years or so ago with their annual purchase of a galáctico. You have to refresh the team with a star name regularly, whatever the cost, if you want to keep the fans happy and sell even more shirts round the world each year.

You also need to attract PROUD SUPPLIERS OF LAV PAPER TO MAN CITY or OFFICIAL PROVIDER OF BABY BOTTLES TO MAN UNITED or PARTNERS WITH CHELSEA IN SUGARY DRINK. These suppliers pay a fortune to have their product associated with a famous Premier League club – and the club knows that, to keep up the interest, they must have yet another exciting £100m star lined up for each new season.

So, you can see what strains and stresses having mega money gets them into, trying to balance all these needs and desires. The manager will get the blame in the end when things start to go badly on the pitch, despite having had to accommodate some players he probably never craved. If you’re rich in football, or in most other walks in life, you have to show it, have all the required possessions, otherwise what’s the point of being rich?

One reason why Leicester did so well last season was that they had no money. This forced them to bond and work hard, make do with cheapo players, none of them rubbish, but none the sort of galáctico a super-Prem club would bother with.

Leicester won’t repeat that trick this year. It was a one-off. On the whole, the £100m player is better than the £10m player. The rich clubs will always come good. But having an enormous staff, at any level, is all such a worry for the rich. You have to feel sorry . . .

Hunter Davies’s “The Beatles Book” is published by Ebury

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 29 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, May’s new Tories