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Breakfast had scarcely been cleared away this Tuesday morning when the news arrived in such quantity and such variety that This Author was obliged to set down her toast entirely. Growth forecasts. Prisoners. Brexit. The pound shop in existential crisis. One hardly knows whether to reach for one’s lorgnette or one’s smelling salts – so This Author shall simply press on.
The Grand Council of International Finance has issued its verdict on the Kingdom’s fiscal affairs, and the news is – cautiously, provisionally, with many a caveat – not entirely catastrophic. The economy shall grow by 1.3% this year, up from the 1% predicted in July, which in the language of economists apparently constitutes something close to euphoria. Chancellor Lord Healey is reportedly seeking to “provide some breathing space” for households in the forthcoming Budget – a phrase so delicately meaningless that This Author admires it as a work of art. The Council‘s chief economist noted that the Kingdom stands out, alongside India, in having already begun the process of debt consolidation. High praise indeed. One is essentially being complimented for having started one’s diet. The Budget arrives on 28 October. Brace accordingly.
Meanwhile, some 650 souls are departing the Kingdom’s Houses of Correction today in the second wave of Lord Burnham‘s early release scheme. These offenders, serving up to two and a half years, now leave after a mere third of their sentence – a policy so brisk that probation officers are reportedly preparing to strike over the strain of monitoring them all. Victims’ groups have raised urgent and entirely legitimate concerns: domestic abuse perpetrators are among those released, with electronic tags frequently fitted late, or not at all. This is not a matter for wit. The government’s court overhaul returns to the Grand Assembly for scrutiny precisely as the scheme enters its second phase, which is either admirably simultaneous or a coincidence of breathtaking convenience, depending upon one’s disposition.
And now – oh, Gentle Reader, steady yourself – Brexit has returned to the corridors of power. Like a houseguest who left in 2020 and has now reappeared at the door with all their luggage, it is back, and Lord Burnham has invited it in. The Prime Minister, who mere months before taking office showed precious little enthusiasm for relitigating the matter, now argues with considerable gusto that Brexit has done “more harm than good” and that the status quo with the Continental Alliance is “not good enough for Britain.” A summit in Brussels looms at the end of next month. Lord Cameron’s ghost is said to be unavailable for comment.
In retail news of the most poignant variety, Poundland’s Emporium of the Single Pound – a beloved institution whose entire identity rests upon a price point that inflation has long since rendered historical fiction – is in rescue talks. The chain has 600 stores and 12,000 employees. It was sold last summer for the sum of precisely £1 by its previous owners, which This Author considers either the most honest transaction in commercial history or the most devastating verdict on the state of British retail. A management buyout is being attempted in partnership with an Irish property group. Unions warn of administration. The management insists recovery is “already taking shape.” One hopes they are right, for a Britain without its pound shops would be a Britain stripped of a certain democratic poetry.
Finally, This Author must address the scandal of the concert ticket, for it speaks to something rotten in the age of the machine. The celebrated singer Raye – she who won six Brit Awards in a single evening and has since conducted herself with considerable dignity as an independent artist – announced a one-off performance at the Royal Albert Hall for 5,000 fortunate souls. The registration attracted 1.8 million sign-ups. One point eight million. For 5,000 seats. This would be gratifying, except that the vast majority were bots – automated agents of the ticket-touting fraternity, generating “hundreds of thousands of fake registrations” in order to hoover up tickets for resale at ruinous prices. Raye’s team has now manually reviewed the list to identify genuine admirers, which is the sort of labour-intensive heroism one does not expect to read about on a Tuesday. The pre-sale opens today. This Author wishes the real fans every fortune in the ballot, and the touts a quiet eternity of reflection.
I am, as ever, your most devoted observer – Lady Whistledown.