Five questions answered on… the fall in UK unemployment

Unemployment is at its lowest number for over a year. We answer five questions on the falling unemployment rates.

How much has unemployment fallen by?

Unemployment has fallen by 49,000 to 2.51 million in the three months to September. This has reduced the jobless rate from 7.9 per cent to 7.8 per cent.

The Office of National Statistics (ONS) said almost all of this fall was due to a decline in youth unemployment.

How has this affected the long term unemployed?

It hasn’t actually. Those who are long term unemployed – for a year or over – has increased by 12,000 for the quarter to September 894,000.

While 43,000 people have been out of work for more than two years, up by 21,000.

How many people are currently working part-time only?

According to the ONS there are 8.1 million people in part-time employment, up by 49,000 and nearly a record high.

If unemployment figures have dropped, has the amount of people claiming unemployment benefits also fallen?

Oddly, no. The number of people claiming unemployment benefits has risen by 10,100 last month to 1.58m, which is the highest level since July and the biggest monthly rise since September last year.

In regards to this, Martin Beck at Capital Economics, told The Telegraph:

Indeed, the timelier claimant count measure of unemployment rose by 10,000 in September, while August's fall was revised to a small rise, which suggests that the labour market may be beginning to weaken as the Olympics effect fades.

What has the employment minister said about these latest figures?

Mark Hoban, the Employment Minister, told the BBC:

This is another good set of figures. We've seen the number of people in work increase by 100,000 and youth unemployment is below a million again.

Adding:

There are still some real challenges out there. We still need to tackle... long-term unemployment.

Photograph: Getty Images

Heidi Vella is a features writer for Nridigital.com

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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt