Theodore Dalrymple reviews Lincoln Allison's new book
Theodore Dalrymple issues a global warning
Theodore Dalrymple delivers a global warning
The medical profession used often to be twitted with the mortality of its own members: for if doctors knew so much, how came it that they died like everyone else?
A friend of mine, a very busy man who knew that I had retired and had little to do except meet deadlines, asked me recently to help him find a flat for rent in a distant part of the country.
What's so good about these indigestible birds?
For a British patriot, it is a great relief to go to Marseilles.
It is in listening to other people talk that you learn to appreciate silence. What higher praise of a man could there be than that he is taciturn?
When we were students, a professor of public health once told us that the death rate declined whenever or wherever…
True grief is often swamped by the mawkishness of strangers
He who would read newspapers must expect to spend his days in the darkest despair, for they contain nothing but war, murder and medical advice.
The historian Sir Lewis Namier once said that in a drop of dew could be seen all the colours of the rainbow, presumably as a reply to those who accused him of writing more and more about less and less.
Do I grow cleverer with age, or does the world grow more stupid? Today, for example, I read what a police spokeswoman said after a man on a motorbike had been shot dead on the M40 motorway. The police, she said, were not treating it as a case of road rage; they were treating it as a case of murder.
You — or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I — can’t get away anywhere from crime and criminality.
Public affairs vex no man, said Doctor Johnson, and I know what he meant. He, however, did not live as we do in an age of information in which, without retiring entirely to bed, it is next to impossible to dodge the headlines altogether.