Ed Miliband's "lost decade" speech will be planted firmly in the scare category

Labour leader will warn of a Japan-style crisis.

The government's economic plan is failing, and the UK faces a "lost decade", Ed Miliband will say in a speech in Birmingham today.

He will warn that the UK could go the way of Japan during the 1990s unless something is done to turn it around, and will argue that there's a way this can be done.

Japan never quite recovered from its burst bubble of 1989 - and the crisis brought its economy to a standstill for about 10 years, as it watched rivals China and South Korea expand. Miliband's message - which also will stress that Britain is in the slowest recovery for 100 years - is planted firmly in the scare category. It will also echo Vince Cable, who warned of a "lost decade" back in December.

In an interview with the Times Miliband said:

This Government is now leading Britain into that lost decade. They’re shrugging their shoulders. They have run out of ideas. They are resigned. It is One Nation Labour’s task to show people it does not have to be this way. Not promising overnight answers. Not promising that things will be easy.

He will also attempt to make a distinction between public faith in David Cameron and public faith in politics in general:

I know that however discredited, divided and damaging this Government is, I will not assume that their unpopularity will mean people turn to Labour. Indeed, many people will believe that the failure of this Government means they should give up on politics altogether.

...and lay the groundwork for rebuilding trust in Labour:

I have sought to understand why people left Labour. From banking regulation to immigration to Iraq, I have been clear about what we got wrong.

Miliband's alternative measures, he told the Times, will include an apprenticeship programme, reforming banks and the energy market, a 10p income tax, and a "real jobs guarantee" for the young. 

Ed Miliband. Photograph: Getty Images
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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