Matthew Lynn

A crash in the pound, with sterling trading down at $1.15, and heading to parity. A spike in gilts, and a flight by bond investors in a panic over the state of the British economy. As the headlines are dominated by reports that the Governor of the Bank of England might decide to pack his bags and return to his native Canada as early as next year, there has been lots of speculation about the havoc that might inflict on our already jittery post-Brexit economy. Right now, no one seems to know whether Mark Carney is likely to stay on as Governor beyond his initial five-year term or not. But ignore some of the more fevered speculation you read in the press. In truth, the markets don’t care very much. Why not?

Plunging output. The FTSE in freefall. A financial collapse. Unemployment rising rapidly and trade falling off a cliff. At first glance, you might think that was an accurate description of the British economy, given the decisions that the Bank of England took this morning. After all, to cut interest rates to their lowest level in history, to re-launch quantitative easing, and to promise more action down the road, the economy must be in crisis, right? Except, er, it isn’t really. While there are good reasons to argue that the decision to leave the European Union may well hurt the economy in the medium-term, there is no immediate emergency. In fact, the Bank has just taken a huge risk – of over-stimulating the economy, and creating a Brexit boom.

A stable government, led by a good-looking modernising liberal. A free trade agreement that gives it unrestricted access to the largest economic bloc in the world. Rising prices and a return to growth. There must be times when the Governor of the Bank of England Mark Carney wishes he was still in charge of the relatively simple Canadian economy, and had never been tempted to try and steer the damp and grey island on the other side of the North Atlantic through a moment of national angst. There may be worse jobs in the world – replacing Chris Evans on Top Gear, perhaps, or joke-writer for Theresa May – but it is hard to think of them right now.

The queues haven’t started forming outside branches in Frankfurt or Cologne yet. Even so, it is hard not to suspect that something is badly amiss at Deutsche Bank, Germany’s and indeed Europe’s mightiest financial institution, and the rock on which that economy is founded. The shares have been in freefall, and executives have been wheeled out to try and reassure everyone that all is well. For Deutsche to be in trouble is bad enough. But here’s the real problem. If Deutsche does go down, it is taking the euro down with it. Why? Because if Germany bails it out, the contrast with the punishment metered out to Greek banks will be too painful to contemplate. And yet, were it to be allowed to fail, it would be catastrophic for the German economy.

If anyone is feeling pleased about the slide on the stock-market today, it is probably Andrew Roberts, the RBS analyst who hit the headlines this week with a note advising everyone to ‘sell everything’. Probably rather sooner than he expected, and before any of his clients even had time to panic properly, prices have started to collapse. Almost every day, there are hefty three digits falls, and pictures editors are running out of their stock photos of despairing traders looking glumly into their Bloomberg terminals. The numbers suggest that a bear market, usually defined as a 20 percent drop off the highs, is now very close. China’s Shenzhen index is already there. The FTSE is down from just shy of 7,000 in July to 5,780 now.

The iPhone had not yet been launched. Sven-Goran Eriksson was still managing the England football team. A 17-year-old Taylor Swift had just had her first hit. Plenty has changed since June 2006, but one thing has remained remarkably constant - the cost of money. In the nine years since then, the Federal Reserve has cut interest rates, but until yesterday it had never raised them. With the exception of one misjudged rate rise from the European Central Bank, which was quickly reversed, neither has any other country. For almost an entire decade, money has been remarkably cheap by any historical standards. By that measure alone, yesterday's decision from the Fed to finally raise rates is a big deal.

Turn-up. Eat lunch. Swap a few pleasantries with the other people in the room, leave interest rates on hold, and then collect a cheque on the way out. I am starting to wonder why I can’t have a job on the Bank of England’s Monetary Policy Committee. It certainly doesn’t look terribly difficult. This week, the Bank is making a change to its usual routine. Instead of just announcing the latest monthly decision on rates, it is also releasing a vast amount of fresh information on the economy, in a move that the media have already dubbed ‘Super Thursday’, presumably on the grounds that unlike plain old ordinary Thursdays, City journalists and economic pundits will have lots of new data and forecasts to play around with.

Ten years ago, the Greek minister Yainnos Papantoniou came to London to give a talk at the London School of Economic on the country’s first four years as a member of the euro. A skilled, pro European technocrat, Papantoniou had, more than anyone else, steered his country through dogged German resistance into the single currency. Papantoniou boasted that a history of weak growth and chaotic government had been swept aside, and that Greece was now the equal of Germany and France. What lay ahead, he argued was 'a new dynamic phase for the Greek economy, based on knowledge and modern structures'. A 'bolstering of national self-confidence' would be the natural result. It was an articulate exposition of the view of a whole generation of Mediterranean politicians, eurocrats and bankers.

It was 2 May 1997. Not only was most of the country celebrating the election of a bright young Kennedy-esque Prime Minister called Tony Blair, so too, perhaps more surprisingly, were the champagne-swilling Thatcherites of the City of London. As the government took office, the FTSE 100 index climbed up to 4,455, and it was to carry on rising over the next few months, reaching 5,193 by the year’s end. Indeed, for much of its first term, Britain’s last Labour government was accompanied by a raging bull market, as the dotcom bubble reached its peak. Will history repeat itself? In May, we may well see another newly elected Labour prime minister, Ed Miliband. Unlike his predecessor Blair, Red Ed seems rather more committed to old-fashioned socialism.

Teenagers have never exactly been short of things to complain about to their parents. You didn’t give them enough support, sent them to the wrong schools, stopped them going to the right parties, or didn’t get them the latest iPhone. But Generation Rent, perhaps stirred up by too much time spent reading Ed Miliband’s Twitter feed, are likely to be especially aggrieved. To add to the traditional litany of charges from the younger generation against the older can be added one that might even have a kernel of truth in it — you stole our future. There is a case to be made that the big divide in British society, as indeed in most developed economies, is not between classes, races, religions or regions, but between generations.