James Delingpole says You Know It Makes Sense
A few months ago my wife said something to me so awful and shocking I contemplated divorce.
The global warming lobby, and the terrier who won’t let go two lines
Oh. My. God. Can it really be, like, 16 years since it was 1993?
Greens, like Nazis, see the entire world through the prism of one big idea: theirs
All right, I surrender.
I watched, helpless, as a vicious Staffie ripped up my children’s guinea pigs
Every summer my wife and I conduct an extraordinary social experiment with our kids which, if the authorities got to hear about it, could land us in jail.
Was Daphne du Maurier responsible for the attempt to cross the ‘bridge too far’?
You wouldn’t necessarily have guessed this from the quality of commemorative programming on TV this week.
Human Cluedo brings out the ruthlessness and cunning you never knew you had
If the NHS is ‘fair’, give me unfairness any day
I do hope you’ll forgive me for writing about rivers twice in two columns.
Headfirst, sometimes sideways, I was swept down a treacherous, rain-swollen river
Being a right-wing columnist under New Labour’s liberal fascist tyranny is a bit like being a South Wales Borderer at Rorke’s Drift: so many targets, so little time.
The officers who played fireball hockey with me have been scandalously betrayed
Poor Michael Jackson. I know he was (probably) a kiddie fiddler and his music was crap, but that didn’t stop me empathising when watching Michael Jackson’s Last Days: What Really Happened (Channel 4, Sunday).
James Delingpole finds that ‘glamping’ suits the wife
James Delingpole talks to Professor Ian Plimer, the Australian geologist, whose new book shows that ‘anthropogenic global warming’ is a dangerous, ruinously expensive fiction, a ‘first-world luxury’ with no basis in scientific fact. Shame on the publishers who rejected the book
Sporting triumph at school is even sweeter than the smell of napalm in the morning
On the Saturday night of Glastonbury festival I wasn’t off my face in a field listening to some banging techno, but at the Museum of Garden History watching the noted harpsichordist William Christie and two marvellous sopranos perform songs by Purcell.
Conservative blacks are fed up with being patronised by liberals and bureaucrats
Let’s not get too worked up if Guy Gibson’s dog ends up with a PC name
‘Shh! Cricket!’ my grandfather Ken Delingpole used to say whenever the cricket came on the wireless.