The answer to the subtraction sum in the title is 1947. So all the unclued lights are celebrities who celebrate their 70th birthday this year. The first letter of each clue, read in order, announce Doc’s 70th birthday. First prize Emma Wood, Loscoe, Heanor, Derbyshire Runners-up Tom Richards, Haverfordwest, Pembrokeshire; George D. Logan, Columbia, Maryland, USA
Don’t electric cars sound exciting? No exhaust emissions creating a toxic soup for children to breathe in as they go to school and charging at home before whizzing about in a quiet, clean car. Ministers are so excited by them that this week they announced they want to ban all new petrol and diesel cars from 2040. I already own an electric car, so you’d expect me to be excited that others will be joining the revolution that’s currently the preserve of tedious people like me who also own folding bikes and have a veg box subscription. But while my car is a dream to drive, it’s really not particularly
What with yet another warning from the Bank of England this week about rising consumer debt, and my own prediction that we’re heading for an economic trough within 18 months, this doesn’t feel like a good time to be paying top dollar for luxury brands. When Jimmy Choo, the maker of super-expensive strappy stilettos, was put up for sale by its German majority shareholder in April at a valuation of £700 million, I revealed that I definitely wouldn’t be a bidder. But it’s being so cautious that makes me a humble columnist rather than a wheeler-dealer billionaire: US fashion brand Michael Kors is buying the shoe company for £896 million
This week’s Books Podcast is all about love. Can we have too much of it? How long does it last? And is the hot new thing, polyamory, the solution to al our problems? I’m joined by the writer and comedian Rosie Wilby — author of the new book Is Monogamy Dead? — to discuss the future of relationships, the advantages and disadvantages of gay marriage, and how she got over her ex-girlfriend… You can listen to our conversation here: And do subscribe on iTunes for a new podcast every Thursday.
On this week’s episode we discuss whether Macron is losing his gloss, ask if the Brexit talks are heading in the right direction, and recommend how to get the best out of the Edinburgh festival. First, it’s been just over two months since Emmanuel Macron became President of France, and already cracks are starting to show. Swept into the Elysee Palace by a sea of young voters rejecting Marine Le Pen and the National Front, those same voters are beginning to turn on the centrist former banker who they reluctantly championed. So says Gavin Mortimer in this week’s magazine, where he laments the new President’s vanity, and he joins the podcast from Paris along
The row over chlorine-washed chicken should be a wake-up call to British free traders. It is a sign of the opposition that any new trade deals will face. The producer interests keen to oppose the extra competition that free trade brings are organised and ready to go. But the consumers who’d benefit from greater choice and lower prices have no organised, political voice at present. There is a danger that trade deal after trade deal is derailed or limited by the kind of scare tactics we have seen in recent days; having not had a trade policy for 40-odd years, there are few people in this country versed in how
This spring I wrote in the magazine about how sheep attacks were on the rise, as wayward dogs were becoming an increasing problem for farmers. Sadly, since I wrote the piece in March, the problem hasn’t got any better. Pictures of sheep that have been either mauled or killed by family pets still appear constantly on my social media feeds, and over the summer numerous dogs have had to be shot by farmers to stop them attacking their livestock. Things have got so bad in some places that in Wiltshire, for example, the National Trust has been forced to ban dogs from some of the areas it looks after close to Stonehenge. It’s
Insufficient attention has been paid to the history of naughty girls, who deployed allure to prosper in a male-dominated world. Moralists insisted that they would all come to a bad end. From Jezebel to Cleopatra, Lady Hamilton to Becky Sharp, many did so. But not all. Salomé died a queen; Pamela Harriman, an ambassador. There are also fates which transcend earthly glory. Mary Magdalene is often conflated with the woman taken in adultery. In a wooden sculpture, Donatello depicted her in old age, a pitiless portrayal of the ravages the flesh is heir to. Yet she rises above suffering. The expression on her face is beatific. ‘I know that I
Thanks to meteoric advances in computational power, it is now possible to take abundant data from a wide range of sources, and use statistical modelling to prove… um, whatever bullshit conclusion you hoped to prove in the first place. For all the excitement of the information age, we must remember that self-serving delusions like nothing better than large quantities of information. The internet was a gift to conspiracy theorists, for instance. But confirmation bias is also more pronounced among the educated. (No one measures the negative consequences of higher education, but a naïve faith in universals has to be one of them.) Back in the analogue age, people couldn’t avoid
Kenya We are on the beach, where our home is full of dystopian stories. My daughter Eve is whizzing through her A-level summer reading list, and as we share her books around we all have our noses in post-third world war Australia, the Republic of Gilead, in a submarine London and totalitarian future states. The novelist Lionel Shriver, an author of dystopias herself (with whom I once shared a house in Nairobi, before she called me a ‘spiritual pygmy’ in the dedication of her book Game Control ) says, ‘The greatest joy of dystopian fiction is that it’s make-believe. We can experiment with disaster imaginatively, close the book, then
In Competition No. 3008 you were invited to take the last line of a well-known novel and make it the first line of a short story written in the style of the author in question. There’s room only for me to lament the lack of space for more winners; the judging process was especially painful and protracted this time around. Those that made the final cut appear below and earn £25 each. A way a lone a last a loved a long the bookmaster Jimjoist rolled a virgil sheet from the toplady of a freshly complete queer of peeper into his tripewriter thinking. Aha, my last leaves were
At a party earlier this summer, I was chatting to a man who asked me how I voted in last year’s EU referendum. I don’t see why anybody asks that question more than a year on, and I don’t see why anyone should be expected to answer. There is no faster way to sour a perfectly fine evening. Whatever you say, you risk causing offence, so why bother? I told the man I preferred not to say, and that I still don’t really know what I think about Brexit. He appeared put out by my reluctance — as if I was the one being rude. Before long he made his
The Big Sick is a rom-com that’s smarter than most rom-coms, which isn’t saying much, admittedly. It stars a Muslim man from a Pakistani background as the romantic lead, which has to be all to the good, and one character does pinpoint exactly what’s wrong with the internet: ‘You go online and they hate Forrest Gump… best fucking movie ever!’ (So true.) But at two hours it is overlong — Christopher Nolan had evacuated Dunkirk in that time, let’s remember — and it does leave a bad taste in the mouth. (Big sick, bad taste. Although, in fact, it’s not that kind of sick. This film may have the worst
Twenty years in August since Diana died. The anniversary is sad for me on many levels — she was definitely the final famous person I’ll have a pash on, and it reminds me that I haven’t yet earned back the whopping advance I was given for my book about her. To be fair, the book was an absolute stinker, written through a haze of gin, tears and avarice, containing such clodhopping clangers as ‘with blue skies in her eyes and the future in her smile’ and ‘affection swooshed out of her like a firework from a bottle’. Nurse, the screens! But there was good stuff in it, too. Namely, the
The South Downs cover 260 sq miles from Hampshire’s Itchen Valley to Eastbourne in East Sussex. Nestled near the southernmost point is Goodwood racecourse, which claims to be the most beautiful track in the world — and you can certainly see why. The downs are stunning, and from the top of the stands you can look out for miles. The course — part of the Goodwood estate — is owned by Charles Gordon-Lennox, the current Lord March and future 11th Duke of Richmond, who lives just a few hundred metres away in Goodwood House. His true passion is, admittedly, cars. He is president of the British Automobile Racing Club, and
Getting agitated, are you, about declining sperm counts? The Guardian called the fall in numbers ‘shocking’; for the Telegraph, never one to underplay these things, ‘Sperm count collapse could spell doom for humanity’. Really? It feels like one of those stories about species extinction, helped by the undeniable resemblance of spermatozoa to tadpoles. You may have noticed that women are markedly less agitated about all this than men, at least the three I spoke to. For once – hah – it’s not women who have all the angst about procreation. All the Bridget Jones business about body clocks, biological sell-by dates and egg freezing was formerly the preserve of women.
A grainy video posted to Twitter shows a bearded man, his hands raised, on his knees, pleading for his life. A few seconds later, a soldier in desert fatigues, and allegedly from the Iraqi Army’s 16th Division, enters the frame and pushes the petrified man over the edge of a cliff on to the banks of a river down below. The man appears alive, just, but as he attempts to slither to cover, the soldier unleashes a volley of a dozen or so rounds, leaving his bloodied body lifeless. His crime is unclear, though without jury nor trial his tormentors have accused him of being a member of Isis. It is
Mark Harvey, Chapel Down’s managing director of wines, was in great form last week at our Spectator Winemaker’s Lunch, held as usual in our boardroom. And I must add that Mark’s wines were in equally tiptop shape. With vineyards across Kent and a winery near Tenterden, Chapel Down is well-known as the largest producer of fine English wine. Although most of us around the table had enjoyed Chapel Down’s wares before, the one or two guests who hadn’t were taken aback by the wines’ quality, style and, well, sheer panache. We started with the 2011 Three Graces, a fabulous fizz blended from Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier (the said
God, she’s on a bit of a run, Justine Greening, isn’t she? A day after it turns out she wants to let people change gender merely on their say so, without regard to their possession of wombs or gonads or XX chromosomes, she’s set her sights on the CofE and its retrograde attitude to gender – actually, come to think of it, she’s probably got the entire Christian communion in her sights. All in her capacity of Education Secretary and Women and Equalities Minister. She observed in an interview on Sky: ‘I think it is important that the church in a way keeps up and is part of a modern
The other day I frowned at Love Island. I dislike adding (in my tiny way) to such shows’ publicity, but sometimes the obvious moral objection must be made, when sexuality is tackified, and when other commentators queue up to say what kitschy fun it is. The worldly pundit smiles at my earnestness: ‘It’s the culture we live in, it goes with cultural freedom. Why bother disapproving?’ I picture a cool old cove like Simon Jenkins saying this. ‘On the other hand, maybe we do a need a new Mary Whitehouse, just to spice life up a bit,’ he smirks. Well, I want to broaden my frown to another show, Channel