The UK economy hasn't grown more than the US

The US has grown by 2.3 per cent in the last year, while the UK has remained flat.

The final set of US growth figures before the presidential election were released today, showing that the economy grew at an annual rate of 2 per cent in the third quarter or a quarterly rate of 0.5 per cent. The Tories, unsurprisingly, are keen to point out that that's a worse performance than the UK, which, as we learned yesterday, grew at a quarterly rate of 1 per cent in Q3.  But they would be wise not to invite too much comparison of the UK and US economies.

First, while the US has grown by 2.3 per cent over the last year, the UK economy has failed to grow at all. As the Office for National Statistics reported yesterday: "GDP in volume terms was estimated to have been flat in Q3 2012, when compared with Q3 2011".

Second, while the US economy is now 2.3 per cent above its pre-recession peak, the UK remains 3.1 per cent below. The US has grown for 13 consecutive quarters, but we've only just recovered the output lost in the double-dip recession (a fate that the US, partly thanks to a policy of stimulus, rather than austerity, avoided). As a result, while they've grown by 3.9 per cent over the last two years, we've grown by just 0.6 per cent.

Finally, since the UK Q3 figure was artificially inflated by the bounce-back from the extra bank holiday in June (responsible for around half of the 1 per cent growth) and the inclusion of the Olympic ticket sales (responsible for 0.2 per cent), it's foolish of the Treasury to cite it as proof that we're "on the right track". Indeed, as I wrote yesterday, a significant number of forecasters believe it's possible or even probable that the economy will shrink in quarter four. Rather than complacently boasting about a one-off surge in growth, the Tories should be acting to prevent a triple-dip recession.

The US economy is now 2.3 per cent above its pre-recession peak, while the UK remains 3.1 per cent below. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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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