Countries that embrace market liberalism, notably Britain and America, are best placed to recover from the recession, writes Bill Emmott, editor of the Economist until 2006, in the Times. Later that day, we learn that "over-regulated" France and Germany are the first to resume growth.
I am being unfair. Emmott was predicting which countries "five or ten years hence" would have recovered "most strongly and durably". But at my age, "five or ten years hence" may be too long to wait, so I rejoice that Emmott may have a teeny bit of egg on his face, perhaps with yellow bits stuck in his beard. I have nothing personally against this amiable and clever fellow, but I have always hated the Economist, with its monotonous style and infuriating certainties.

Whether the subject is Indonesian rubber prices or the Scarborough holiday trade, the Economist always knows the answers: greater reliance on markets and less state intervention. The leaders are bad enough - a recent one absurdly blamed the right-wing Honduran coup on Hugo Chávez, the left-wing Venezuelan leader - but I could swallow those if every other piece didn't take the same set of opinions for granted. The Economist's lack of bylines allows it to impose a party line across the magazine, enhancing its spurious air of authority. How strange that a "liberal" publication should allow so little individualism among writers. Its international circulation, largely among senior company executives, keeps going up. This helps to explain why the world economy is in a mess, and why the planet's ecology will soon be in a bigger one.

American protests against Barack Obama's health-care reforms and the accompanying smears on the NHS have become so ridiculous they scarcely deserve comment. But here are some points that may have been missed.

First, the difference between US and European public spending levels would almost entirely disappear if the total cost of American health services was transferred to the taxpayer. Second, all scarce goods and services are rationed. Our health services are rationed by queuing and state-imposed limits on costly treatments that give little extra length or quality of life. Americans' services are rationed by price and the small print of insurance policies.

Third, cancer survival rates are calculated from dates of diagnosis. Higher rates in America may be attributable to more regular screening, mostly carried out so insurance companies can increase rates for (or refuse coverage to) people with serious conditions. Fourth, all health services require bureaucrats to organise treatments and services. Britain has extra bureaucrats to deal with public accountability requirements; the US has extra bureaucrats to bill patients and deal with insurance policies. The US has one administrator to every two doctors; Britain has fewer than one to three.
My old friend Nick Cohen, late of this parish, argues one should never meet politicians lest one ends up liking them. Perhaps I should heed his advice. In March, I confessed to a tiny soft spot for Margaret Thatcher, based on our acquaintance in the early 1970s. Now the launch of his cookery book reminds me of another soft spot - again, I emphasise, tiny - for Norman Tebbit.

It dates from the 1980s when, as employment secretary, he came to a National Union of Journalists branch meeting in a dingy pub, without aides, visible security or an ounce of the self-importance that surrounds most politicians. He explained the new Tory employment laws and the reasons for introducing them. Then a Sunday Times shop steward, I explained that Rupert Murdoch had dismissed a dozen journalists without consulting the union as the law and the house agreement required. "Sue him!" barked Tebbit, and outlined the procedures. Duly inspired, I sued and won. The tribunal did not award the dismissed hacks further compensation or reinstate them, and it had no powers to fine the company. Nevertheless, I took pleasure for some years in reminding Murdoch's henchmen that they had been found guilty of illegality.

The Tories want school league tables to give more points to exam passes in "hard" subjects such as maths, and fewer to "soft" subjects such as media studies. Since I have never taken a media studies exam, I do not know how soft it is. But the idea that the media aren't worth studying is as foolish as the idea, which survived into the 20th century at elite universities and public schools, that science and engineering were not proper subjects for young gentlemen. The media industries, apart from their contribution to GDP, now impinge on people's lives to an extent unimaginable even 20 years ago. The late Anthony Sampson, comparing 21st-century Britain with the 1960s when he wrote his original Anatomy of Britain, concluded "no sector increased its power . . . more rapidly than the media". Some education in the media is surely essential. But it suits the industry's owners if citizens lack the skills and knowledge to sustain critical attitudes.

To an extraordinary extent, cricket is played in the head. This must explain why Mark Ramprakash, our most technically correct batsman, has an inferior Test match average to Stuart Broad, who is not picked for his batting. So I cannot quarrel with the selectors' failure to recall him for the vital Oval Test. But why prefer Ian Bell, whose Ashes average is 25 against Ramprakash's 42? And why, if the selectors were happy for the batsman Jonathan Trott to make his debut, did they not include in the squad another novice, the spin bowler Adil Rashid? Instead, they picked Monty Panesar, who has hardly taken a wicket all season, while Rashid took five and hit a century for Yorkshire the other day. By the time you read this, Bell may have scored a century and Panesar taken six wickets. But the selectors' decisions would still be illogical. Perhaps selecting also does something to the head.

Peter Wilby was editor of the New Statesman from 1998-2005