Britain is the sick man of Europe – again

Liz Truss’s recent written confession is remarkable for its childlike air. It reminded me of my buck-passing wheedling whenever I was caught doing something naughty aged about eleven; ‘No, I didn’t know what I was doing – but neither did the Treasury, yeah what about the Treasury, eh, mum?’

I can remember when the British disease, being the ‘sick man of Europe’, etc, was a national obsession but mostly of the right and the reactionary. Think of the low-status laughs to be had from Basil Fawlty bemoaning ‘more strikes!’ or Alan Partridge tutting and muttering ‘This country …’

But in the 2020s doominess seems to be the default for everyone, all sides of the political spectrum. The bright-eyed, bushy-tailed persona of our current Prime Minister seems comically inappropriate.

Whenever I sense that this country is going to the dogs, two perhaps overfamiliar and certainly contradictory quotes come to mind.

‘Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold,’ is the contribution of that gloombucket Yeats, who goes on to cheer us all up further by telling us how the ceremony of innocence is drowned, there’s a rough beast slouching towards Bethlehem, etc.