Morning Call: pick of the papers

The ten must-read comment pieces from this morning's papers.

1. Economic crisis isn't over yet. This may not even be the beginning of the end (Guardian)

Statistically, the UK is out of recession – but it took an Olympian effort to achieve even this fragile upturn, writes Larry Elliott.

2. Gordon Brown’s secret army could defeat the coalition’s welfare and education reforms (Daily Telegraph)

Britain’s charities and quangos are now stuffed to the gunwales with Labour placemen, says Fraser Nelson.

3. There is no ‘unishambles’ in education (Independent)

The government's university reforms are putting a new focus on the student experience, promoting opportunity and helping reduce the public deficit, argues David Willetts.

4. Look out, wolves. The little pigs’ time is here (Times) (£)

Whether you’re Man Utd manager, Chief Whip or BBC boss, don’t expect deference any more, writes Gaby Hinsliff.

5. This withering assault on farm workers' wages is a race to the bottom (Guardian)

Farming is the last sector where pay rates have some level of protection, and now that is under threat, writes Polly Toynbee. Labour, take note.

6. Turkey stumbles on the road to Damascus (Financial Times)

Ankara has come to realise that it has been overtaken by events, writes Philip Stephens.

7. Good news for the economy at last... now can we cut taxes? (Daily Mail)

Osborne must recognise that high taxes are the enemy of enterprise and growth, says Alex Brummer.

8. Whether it’s the Hutton Report or Jimmy Savile, the BBC is hopeless in a crisis (Daily Telegraph)

Peter Rippon of Newsnight has been hung out to dry as his BBC bosses play the blame game, writes Andrew Gilligan.

9. The threat to local government's heroic, civilising role (Guardian)

Brutal cuts and the demands of core provision put services such as museums, parks and community halls at huge risk, says Tristram Hunt.

10. If the City of London loses the trust of the people it serves, whether home or abroad, it's finished (Independent)

Customers are not to be thought of as sales targets but as people with whom the institution aims to have a mutually profitable relationship, writes Andreas Whittam Smith.

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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