BACK IN MY DAY

1975-2025: 50 YEARS OF INFLATION

We’ve all heard the yarns: ‘Back in my day we could have fish ’n chips, two pints of beer and a Mars bar and still get change from a pound.’ 

Annoying, but it’s true.

Most of us know that the official inflation figures are like a lot of statistics we receive from the government in that they’re largely made up. The ONS official ‘basket of goods’ swerves all over the place in order to make the figure seem more palatable. Thinking about it, this so called basket is more of a wonky shopping trolley that forces you down the wrong aisle. It’s supposed to include a selection of everyday goods to act as a yardstick as to how prices are shifting, but one of these ‘everyday’ products is actually a VR headset. I’m serious. Unsurprisingly, VR headsets are dropping in price so even though no one actually wants one at least they have a role in reducing the official inflation figure.

In the real world, where most of us tend to hang out, you don’t have to be a Bank of England economist, or even work in the complaints department of The Halifax, to know that your own personal inflation rate has skyrocketed in the last few years. Whether it’s baked beans, the gas bill, your home insurance, holiday flights or your road tax we are more than aware that the real rate of inflation is nearer to 36% rather than their perfectly gaslit, gerrymandered 3.6%

That’s why I thought it would be fun to go back in time fifty years and compare the prices of everyday items, in order to discover where we’re being ripped off, basically.

When I reference 1975 for some of you I may as well say 75BC as it probably sounds like ancient history and utterly irelevant. But for us oldies 1975 was the year of Jaws, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here, Elton John’s Captain Fantastic and David Bowie’s Young Americans as well as marking the end of the Vietnam war. Not a bad year.

The good news is that while inflation bumps along nudging the cost of living ever upwards at varying speeds, the difference between prices in 1975 compared to today is essentially 10x. How convenient is that? You just add a nought! (The official figure is 10.74 but let’s keep this simple). It’s so easy to do the comparison.

Let’s start with the products that have pretty much stayed on course, increasing in perfect harmony with the general cost of living, products we can trust not to rip us off, products that should get some sort of award, I reckon.

Fairy Liquid is a good example: 15p in 1975 and roughly £1.50 today. 

A bottle of decent whisky in 1975 was about £3.50, so £35 in today’s money is about right, even though more than £15 of that is tax.

And the TV licence fee has shifted in synchrony too, costing £18 in 1975 for a colour TV licence and £174.50 today. Perhaps most surprising, most of us were still watching in black and white back then.

Even wine, I was surprised to find, has stayed steady despite heavier taxes, with a bottle of decent red costing £1-1.50 in 1975 making today’s prices seem not unreasonable. However, before you rush to open a bottle in celebration it’s worth noting that on a £10 bottle of wine the tax take is £4.88.

And trusty old HP Sauce has gone from 20p to about £2 a bottle over the half century. What a trooper.

Perhaps most surprising of all is petrol. Back in ’75 it was 78p per gallon which equates to about 17p per litre. So in real terms petrol is actually cheaper today, shock horror.

Ripflation!

Then there are those everyday products which have smashed down the barriers of natural inflation, often with a sleight of hand and some clever marketing or rebranding. These are the brands that should carry a bright red RIPFLATION warning.

Andrex Toilet Tissue has shifted from 5p a roll to not far off £1 a roll. They will argue the quality and choice has increased, what with all that quilty nonsense, but their prices have doubled nonetheless.

Heinz Baked Beans is another ripflation enthusiast jumping almost 3x in real terms from 5p to £1.40 a can.

A Ford Cortina was near enough a thousand pounds in 1975. A Ford Focus today will cost you at least £30,000. That’s a threefold real terms increase. Mind you, the Focus probably doesn’t squeak around bends like its grandpa did.

The Mars bar is one of those great British barometers by which we often judge the cost of things. The problem is they’ve fiddled with it. Shrinkflation has whittled the 58 gram bar down to a skinny 51 grams. (I’m sure it was for our own good) and the cocoa solids have been reduced too. However, the price has gone from 7p in 1975 to £1 today. Of course, multipacks and offers can bring this price down but if most prices have increased by a factor of 10 since 1975, the Mars bar has increased by a factor of 16! Coca Cola is very similar with a shift from 7p to £1 which is a good 30% increase in real terms. 

A Night Out

A portion of fish and chips was 35p back in the good old days. That’s doubled in real terms. Ouch.

Meanwhile, the Big Mac which had just landed in the UK, was 45p, so it’s considerably cheaper at today’s price of (approximately) £3.

Fifty years ago a West End theatre ticket cost between £3-5 and it’s still possible to get a ticket for under £50. Just.

A cinema ticket was 60p in 1975, so today’s £6 seems pretty spot on.

An evening meal with wine would have cost between £2-3 per head in 1975, whereas today you’re looking at near enough £100 for dinner for two at a mid market Italian restaurant. Mamma Mia!

Aspiration-Inflation

Our aspirations have been particularly hard hit. A room at the Savoy could be had for a mere £20 per night back in ’75. Stay there tonight and you’ll be dropping the best part of a grand. That’s five times higher than average inflation! Wowsers.

Vogue magazine, on the other hand was 35p in the mid seventies. Today it’s still only £3.99

A knickerbocker glory at Fortnum’s Fountain Restaurant would have set you back a whopping 12.5p in 1975 believe it or not. Today it’ll cost you £16. That’s a percentage increase of 12,700%! Inflation like that sure keeps the riff-raff away. If a Mars bar had increased by the same rate it would be £8.90 today.

And for the record, a stainless steel Rolex Submariner would have set you back £200 in 1975 (£2k in today’s money). A new one will cost you the best part of £10k. I guess that’s either Ripflation or an excellent investment. Meanwhile, if you’d held onto your 1975 vintage Submariner it could well be worth £30k today.

Homeflation

It’s the big cost increases of simply having a home that’s really crushed our spending power. Average rents have gone from £28 per month to at least £2k for anything anywhere near London. Council tax, back then known as domestic rates, has risen from approximately £100 a year to £2280 on average! This reflects property prices with the cost of an average UK home soaring from £9000 to £220,000 in fifty years. Back when the water companies didn’t pump sewage into our rivers, water rates were just £15-20 a year. Today, on average, we’re being hit for at least £600-700 a year  but, in fairness, they do pay themselves generous bonuses from that.

Most shocking of all, most revealing perhaps, is the cost of a beer. A pint cost roughly 20-28p in 1975, with some parts of the country serving it for less than 20p a pint. This means that the ‘proper’ price for a pint of beer today should be somewhere around £2.50…not £7 ffs! No wonder our pubs are struggling. By comparison, the cost of a supermarket can of beer has gone from 15p to about £2, so it simply doesn’t make any sense. Unlike wine, beer has faced repeated and significant increases in excise duties well above inflation, and tax makes up a large share of the final price, especially in pubs. The UK’s tax regime has relentlessly bullied beer with escalators and above-inflation duty rises, deliberately driving up the cost for pubs and restaurants. Put simply, if you can still find a pint for a fiver, £1.50 of that is tax.

We’re clearly being disincentivised to frequent the pub. And if we lose our pubs, we lose our communities. End of.

Cheers!

A special thanks to Perplexity and Grok for much of the research.

Howard Saunders is a writer, speaker and the Retail Futurist

howard@22and5.com

theretailfuturist.com

@retailfuturist

  Howard Saunders   Jul 20, 2025   discount, Retail, sales, shopping, Uncategorized   Comments Off on BACK IN MY DAY   Read More

THE EMPEROR IS STARK BOLLOCK NAKED!

I was inoculated at the age of six. Not from mumps, smallpox or measles but from bullshit. My mother was exactly the same. And her mother before that. My great grandmother bought the beautiful book I have in front of me, and I have treasured it ever since my bedtime story days: a 1930 edition of Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales, illustrated by none other than Heath Robinson. (Published by Boots, incidentally. Back in the day Boots published children’s books, especially beautifully illustrated ones like this made for the Christmas market). In turn, I read it to my children and will certainly read it to my grandson when he’s old enough. More urgently than perhaps the rest of his lineage, he will need to be inoculated asap.

For a child of six The Emperor’s New Clothes is not an easy read, and I remember asking my mother to reread specific paragraphs so that I could revel in the ridiculousness of it all. I loved visualising the imaginary fine threads and giggled at the thought of everyone in raptures over something that was entirely fictitious,…because, as you may well remember, if they couldn’t see the fine fabrics then they were clearly ‘unfit for their office’ or worse, ‘a simpleton!’ 

The lesson is an obvious one but none the less valid for that. In short, no matter what everyone else says, especially those of a higher authority, make sure you speak the truth. And in a world where truth has become as fluid and flexible as gender itself, it’s a lesson we all need right now. Obfuscated by highly charged emotion we routinely hear of ‘my truth’ as if truth is nothing but a Sainsbury’s plastic bag blowing in the breeze, left then right, never to settle at all.

Just as I believe that under hypnosis nobody actually likes sushi I propose we conduct a series of nationwide focus groups under hypnosis, asking the most pertinent questions of the day. That way, unlike the hilariously unreliable polls, we can really build a picture of what the nation truly believes. To get things going we could start with easy ones, for example:

Do you believe the media tells the truth most of the time?

Do you still maintain that the NHS is world class?

After that we could get a little more political with questions such as:

Did you truly believe Biden was ‘as sharp as a pin’ and genuinely in charge of the USA?

Followed perhaps by: Did you actually understand anything Kamala Harris said?

To mix my metaphors, now that our guinea pigs are singing like canaries we could move onto some modern day classics:

Do you still believe Covid originated from the wet markets?

Do you believe the vaccines were safe and effective?

Things are really rocking now in the truth department so it feels like it’s the perfect time to unleash a few of the unspeakables:

Do you believe that diversity is our strength?

Would you agree that Climate Change is our single biggest threat?

Do you believe Net Zero should be one of our top priorities?

On the whole would you say that the government is on your side?

Do you believe Ed Miliband is completely sane?

Should the words ‘free speech’ actually mean free speech?

Do you believe the G7 and COP30 are trying to improve your life?

Following through with:

Would you say DEI has improved your company’s performance?

Like Google and the BBC, do you maintain that there are limitless genders?

Do you believe that human beings can really change sex?

Would you say that, on balance, mass immigration has brought us net benefits?

Finally, I might hit them with:

Do you believe a new building really can be built sustainably? (You know, constructed from all that imported steel and glass we won’t make anymore)

Ending on the clincher:

Do you really believe Katy Perry went to space?

As you can see, the sessions wouldn’t take long. Stripped of social etiquette and virtue signalling I’d say that within twenty minutes or so my Hypnopoll would give us a much clearer idea of the true views of the nation. The Achilles heel, of course (and maybe this should be one of the questions) is that we all know our clever leaders don’t really want to know what we think. 

We live, it seems, in a web of lies. A web woven not so much from wickedness and deceit, but from politeness. A web so fine, so delicate, many people cannot see it at all.

Howard Saunders is a writer, speaker, the Retail Futurist…and a professional contrarian

howard@22and5.com

  Howard Saunders   Jun 24, 2025   culture, Uncategorized, woke   Comments Off on THE EMPEROR IS STARK BOLLOCK NAKED!   Read More

ANY ALLERGIES?

Are you as sick of it as I am? The recent rise of a peculiar strain of hospitality vernacular has grown irritating to the point of banality. Here is a brief compendium of annoyance from a professional misanthrope. That is, all the hospitality no-nos that are barriers to genuine personal service.

Cheers.

You’ve just spent a hundred quid on a pair of jeans and as they swing the bag in front of you this parting remark leaves you feeling under appreciated to the point that you want to hand the bloody things back. I know the world’s gone all smart/casual but a sincere thank you might actually put a spring in your step. Too formal for anyone under the age of thirty, I guess.

Do you want a bag with that?

I know it’s not their fault but the idea that the random array of goods that lie on the counter before you could simply be gathered up in your arms like you’ve just robbed the place is maddening. Perhaps they’d prefer you to pull a crumpled old Tesco bag from your pocket to save them the menial task of actually packing the stuff. How on earth did we get to this?

Any allergies?

We all know the protocol, but it’s beyond annoying. And it’s never “may I ask if you have any allergies?’ No, that would be far too time consuming. The sheer bluntness of the question feels like a brusque doctor’s bedside manner and shouldn’t belong anywhere near hospitality. In a coffee shop recently, I pointed to a shiny bun that I thought might pair perfectly with my flat white. “Ooh” I purred in faux childish tones to make light of my impromptu indulgence. The robotic response stabbed what could have been a micro-magical moment. Oh well.

No worries

A hand me down from the school of ‘Neighbours’ no doubt and one of Gen Z’s go to fillers. I’ve even experienced it in posh restaurants where, incidentally, they spend hours making sure all the cutlery is perfectly polished and aligned so as to create a good impression. Why on earth can’t a grown up in charge tell them not to mention WORRIES!? I’m supposed to be having a good time here. 

No problem

As above but minus the Ozzie upspeak. Often, and even more infuriatingly, abbreviated to “no probs” So very, very wrong.

Have a great day

This one’s the UK version of LaLa land’s “You have a great day now”. Both are about as sincere as Gavin Newsom and grate on all non-US citizens.

You ok there?

Yes, funnily enough I’m fine. I don’t think I’ve been involved in a terrible accident, not while standing here anyway; I’m simply waiting for someone to serve me politely. I point blank refuse to answer this non question. Why can’t you simply say “Can I help?” or is that too demeaning for you? 

My brother (who’s run restaurants for forty years, incidentally) recently booked his Jaguar in for a service and after waiting at reception for a few minutes eventually two oversized eyelashes swept upwards to pose this very question. Presumably, all the bookings were on the screen, together with the details of his car and what he was there for, so it wouldn’t have been so very hard for her to say “Good morning Mr Saunders, if you’d like to leave your keys I’ll let the service department know you’re here”. That way he might buy another one.

Have you booked?

Look, this is a posh restaurant. You can see I’m all dressed up and excited about a great night out and the prospect of dropping three hundred quid on a couple of steaks. Why did you have to launch this downer, this verbal red rope, while I stand here with my wife/lover/client and ruin the mood before we’ve even taken our coats off? Try “good evening” followed by asking my name. That way I don’t feel like I’m queuing for a sightseeing bus tour.

Any room for a dessert?

No thanks, is the most likely answer to such an afterthought of a question. How about you come over and recommend something, be enthusiastic about your wares? Also, it sounds rude because it suggests you’re only there to stuff yourself to the brim.

Is everything ok?

This one’s usually lobbed at you midway through a mouthful of hot mash and for which the response is like Ed Miliband eating a bacon sandwich. We all know it’s a box ticking exercise to minimise complaints but surely you could at least attempt to make it sound genuine. And is ‘ok’ really the height of your culinary aspirations? Maybe you should put a sign in the window: “Our food is ok!” See how that goes.

Do you want?

I think you mean “Would you like or would you care for?’ (I instantly hear my mother’s scolding rebuke when I get this one).

I know elegance and etiquette are seen as dusty and antiquated these days but surely in hospitality, if not in every walk of life, we can expect some level of courtesy. It’s not like I’m holding a tray in a prison canteen for god’s sake.

Thanks mate

I know I was unashamedly cheery and this is only a bar after all, but your job is still to serve me, much as it clearly irks you. I’m not your mate, and I don’t even call my mates mate. Only plumbers.

Enjoy!

Your knife and fork are poised in symmetric anticipation when this formulaic Americanism echoes in your ears as if it’s a verbal command rather than a wish. Mate, this is not California and, thankfully, it never will be.

Try using my name ffs

I booked, you’ve seen my credit card and I’ve been here for nearly two hours so why couldn’t you thank me by name? As my brother (the one with the Jag) says “Names are the sweet spot, the most powerful currency of all.” Try harder.

Thanks for coming, see you again

Versions of this are often printed at the exit or on the receipt. Utterly meaningless unless you actually say it.

Cheers!

Howard Saunders is a writer, speaker and the Retail Futurist

howard@22and5.com

theretailfuturist.com

@retailfuturist

  Howard Saunders   May 29, 2025   Food, Uncategorized   Comments Off on ANY ALLERGIES?   Read More