There is a spectre stalking the land. It is the spectre of middle-aged men worrying about inflation. Actually, it might be more correct to say it’s the spectre of middle-aged columnists exaggerating their worries about inflation for the sake of copy, but I think we can agree it is probably for the best for several reasons if I Don’t Go There.
Anyway, spectre number one: Peter Hitchens. “I remember inflation wrecking lives,” he recently wrote in the Mail on Sunday, “and I can see it coming back”. His column, which comes accompanied by the inevitable stock photo of the children of the Weimar Republic playing with bricks made from worthless banknotes, begins with a claim that he understands this topic in a way the government does not, and includes a pair of personal stories about the damage inflation did to real lives: the first to those of his parents; the latter to his own.
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