GDP almost returns to the level it was before Osborne's double-dip

The effects of the second recession have been reversed by 1 per cent growth this quarter.

Cameron's claim yesterday that "the good news will keep coming", while (probably) a mild abuse of his privilege in having seen the GDP figures early, was proved true today. Sort of.

The good news is that we are out of recession; the economy grew by 1.0 per cent over the last quarter. Indeed, given the revisions to previous quarters, that's enough to cancel out the contraction from the quarter before. That is good news, at least insofar as not leaving recession would be very bad indeed.

The bad news is that we are emphatically not out of the doldrums yet. The economy may have recovered from the second, austerity-led recession, but it leaves over-all growth for the last four quarters almost exactly flat (in fact, the economy is still 0.1 per cent smaller than it was at the end of Q3 2011).

As for the economy finally regrowing back to the size it was in 2008, well, there's a long way to go. The classic NIESR graph details just how big the output gap is:

Interestingly, the ONS refused to quantify the effect of the Olympics over all on the GDP figures, but did say that the effect of ticket sales particularly was likely to be a significant part of the growth. Owing to the way the statistics are counted, those sales are not counted for the quarter in which they are made, but the quarter in which they are used. There was, in effect, a transfer of consumption from mid-2011 to mid-2012, and that can't have failed to have an effect. The statistical bulletin reads:

Tickets for the Olympics were sold in tranches through 2011 and 2012 but, in accordance with national accounts principles, these have been allocated to the third quarter, when the output actually occurred. The impact of the ticket sales on GDP can be clearly seen in the lower level data for sports activities, which is part of the Government and other services aggregate in Table B1. Ticket sales were estimated to have increased GDP in the quarter by about 0.2 percentage points. (Emphasis mine)

The agency also urged commentators to look at the growth figures for a longer period than the quarter-on-quarter releases. Coming so soon after Cameron's no-quite-leak, it's hard not to read that response as putting the Prime Minister in his place.

"This may be a good quarter, Mr Cameron, but don't celebrate just yet."


George Osborne. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood