Society

Thursday

13 Oct 2016

Some like it posh

Daphne’s serves Italian food in South Kensington. (I like the name because Daphne was the name Jack Lemmon chose for his female self in Some Like It Hot, although Tony Curtis — Josephine — wanted to call him Geraldine. I know no one else called Daphne, and I do not need to. Lemmon sated me.) This district, you may recall, is currently a building site, as residents try to dream their houses bigger and their noses smaller; it is a tangle of cranes, personal trainers, tax avoidance, lipstick, adultery and Ferraris swamped with parking tickets. And so Daphne’s, which was a 1980s mini-series restaurant wrought from assorted Nigel Dempster columns

The Spectator

Universities challenged

On the face of it, this year’s Nobel Prize awards have been a triumph for British scientists. No fewer than five laureates come from these shores: three physicists, one chemist and an economist. But before anyone starts praising our higher education system, there is one small snag: all five are currently working at US universities. David Thouless, who was awarded half the Physics prize, has followed a typical career path. After taking a degree at Cambridge, he took a PhD at Cornell University and a postdoc at the University of California before heading back to Britain, where he worked for 13 years at the University of Birmingham. There, he started

Dot Wordsworth

Polari

Of the contribution to English that Polari is claimed to have brought, perhaps naff is the most current-sounding. An older suggestion for its origin, recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary, is from northern English naffu, ‘simpleton’. But, in a refreshing wander through the forest of Jonathon Green’s Dictionary of Slang, which this week went online, I ran into other possibilities. Not only does he record the suggestion that it came into Polari from 16th-century Italian, gnaffa, ‘a despicable person’, he also considers a Romany origin, from naflo or nasvalo, ‘no good’. My shelves had already shrugged beneath the three fat printed volumes of the dictionary Mr Green published in 2010,

Pabulum

2282: Timely

Clockwise round the grid from 21 runs a timely quotation (9,5,3,5,2,7,3,11,5) (in ODQ) followed by the initials of its author, a 2/5. The source is 18/17. Across 8 Plump for some drinks and a sandwich (5) 9 Law-officer fills ditch for president (6) 10 Passé person knows Beatrix by name (7, hyphened) 12 Classy beaver possibly circling Beehive State (4) 14 Architect produces TV show (10) 15 Not one famous aviator, not one, develops mould (8, two words) 20 Black and gold date plant (6) 22 Piece of poetry in Pabulum’s book (4) 24 Nine bushels of dough or blubber? (3) 27 Papa enthralled by aged mimic (3) 31

James Poulos

The future looks bright for Libertarians

Not long ago, America’s Libertarians—that’s capital-L, the pros—were ecstatic. Never before had their party nominated such a heavy-hitting presidential ticket. They boasted two former Governors, both credible (but not too credible) ex-Republicans, matching up against Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, the two least popular major-party nominees in history. Governor Johnson seemed to be living proof that the GOP was sinking fast and the Libertarians offered the viable alternative. For Libertarian lifers who had suffered indignities like the abortive presidential run of Bob Barr (another ex-Republican), Johnson/Weld represented an unprecedented opportunity for unprecedented relevance. Instead, Libertarians have met with a familiar frustration. Despite the manifest weaknesses of Clinton and Trump, far too

Naomi Caine

Why it pays to be in poor health in retirement

Annuity rates are in free fall, which is bad news for anyone who wants to buy a guaranteed income at retirement. The average rate has dropped by 18 per cent in the past year, and by 27 per cent over the past five years, according to figures from Retirement Advantage. Or, put another way: someone with a £50,000 pension could have bought an average annual annuity income of £3,270 five years ago, £2,895 a year ago, and just £2,375 today, suggesting that 2016 will be the worst ever year for annuity rates. Rates are also unlikely to pick up any time soon, what with the economic uncertainty around Brexit and

Georgie Lane-Godfrey

Gstaad: Swiss charm

‘Come up, slow down’ is the official slogan for Gstaad, but they seem to have forgotten one last important phrase — ‘and blow some serious cash.’ For most visitors, money is no object. But Gstaad is making an effort to attract people with less giant budgets. While chalet owners such as Madonna give the resort its showy reputation, there is another side to it — a sleepy Swiss village where the cows outnumber people. Gstaad is picture-postcard pretty. In the village centre you’ll often see a horsedrawn carriage jing-ling around the streets. An old Bernese mountain dog named Nico rides in the passenger seat. And while the streets are lined

Michael Heath

The Battle for Britain – 13 October 2016

Pabulum

to 2279: Where it’s at II

The name was The Spectator. THESP (SARAH BERNHARDT: 37/19), EC (EAST CENTRAL: 36/20), TAT (HEMPEN MATTING: 5/15) and OR (LOGIC CIRCUIT: 35/31). First prize Eddie Looby, Longbridge, Birmingham Runners-up Rose Llewellyn, London SW10; Trevor Evans, Drulingen, France

Laura Freeman

Why I don’t buy the argument that History of Art A-level was axed for being ‘soft’

Can I tell you about one of the best weekends of my life? It involved no foreign travel, no booze, no party, no love affair, no sun, sea, shopping or beach. It was the second weekend of my A-level year and I had been set the first History of Art essay of term: on early Florentine sculpture. My teacher had lent a book from his shelves, I’d borrowed another from the library and half-a-dozen more from my mother. I sat all weekend, rapt at the kitchen table with Andrea Pisano, Lorenzo Ghiberti and Filippo Brunelleschi spread around me. I wrote a seven-page essay in my tiny monk’s handwriting and could

Charles Moore

King Bhumibol’s death stops all the clocks in Thailand

The sad news that King Bhumibol of Thailand is no longer of this world is causing considerable perplexity, because even when it became clear the King was ill, it was not possible for Thais to talk about his death. It seems that this is partly because it is a form of treason in Thailand to encompass the death of the sovereign, but also that, in Thai culture, the personal grief felt at his death will be so great that the thought of it is literally unspeakable. So foreign businesses, visitors, diplomats etc cannot find out what will actually happen when he dies, having reigned since 1946. Rumour suggests that there

Tom Goodenough

The battle for Brexit moves to the High Court

More than 17 million people voted for Brexit. Yet for some, that mandate isn’t quite enough. Today, the High Court is hearing a legal challenge on whether the Government should be allowed to pull the Article 50 trigger without the direct say-so of Parliament. The Commons might have spent hours debating Brexit over the last few days but for Gina Miller – the fund manager bringing the High Court case – only another vote will do. Here’s what she said on the Today show explaining her argument: ‘It’s actually very simple, our case is that this is a fundamental constitutional case saying that parliament and parliament alone can take away

Helen Nugent

Housing, whiplash claims, Tesco and rail compensation

The number of homes coming on to the property market has slipped further as demand climbed in September after a slow summer selling season, according to The Telegraph. The residential market survey by the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors (Rics) found that the number of new instructions to sell fell for the seventh consecutive month. Meanwhile, demand from buyers climbed for the first time since February, albeit modestly. Rics’ survey found that 8 per cent more respondents reported an increase than a decrease in the amount of new buyers, although there was a lot of variation across the country behind the headline number. This cocktail of a continually falling number of homes for sale and increasing

Brian Hancill

Mississippi hospitality

Driving into Greenwood after dark, we pull into a gas station and ask directions to a late-night grocery store. ‘Sir… I have a suggestion,’ says a young man in the queue. ‘I’ll be going that way in this big old box.’ He waves towards a magnificently clapped-out Chrysler at the fuel pumps. ‘Y’all just follow me.’ Our convoy proceeds to the store at 25mph with no turn signals. Then, with another wave, our Good Samaritan turns and rumbles back towards the gas station. He wasn’t really going our way at all. A little later the Crystal Rooms restaurant reopens its just-closed kitchen for our small party. ‘We’ll feed y’all… come

Roger Alton

The waning of Wayne

As the final chords of the Wagnerian epic that is ‘The Dropping of Wayne Rooney’ fade away, we can leave the auditorium to reflect on the momentous events we have just witnessed. Really, what a lot of fuss! Pages in the papers, endless phone-ins and enough online hot air to blow up a container-full of -Samsungs. But I suppose Rooney took it with grace and courage, insisting on facing the media alongside Gareth Southgate, the man who fired him, and saying he would always be available. Not walking off in a huff like other, more dislikeable players. Not mentioning any names, John Terry. He is a fine man, Rooney; not

Camilla Swift

Breach of Trust

Ever since it was founded in 1895, the National Trust has been considered a good thing. That oak tree sticker on the windscreen isn’t just a passport to some of the country’s finest heritage. It is a middle class status symbol declaring that you are cultured, a lover of the bucolic, someone who’d rather their children went out collecting tadpoles and tramping round nature reserves than staying in glued to an iPad. But the Trust, originally set up to ensure ‘the preservation for the benefit of the nation of lands and tenements of beauty or historic interest’ seems to have abandoned at least one of the laudable aims that made

William Cook

Berlin: The return of German pride?

On a windswept square beside the river Spree, across the road from Berlin’s Museum Island, there is a brand new building which epitomises Germany’s shifting attitude to its imperial past. For 500 years this was the site of the Berliner Schloss, seat of Prussia’s royal family. After the second world war it was demolished, and now it’s being rebuilt from scratch. The Berliner Schloss has always been a barometer of German history. It was the residence of Frederick the Great, that daft enlightened despot who put Prussia on the map. In 1914, Kaiser Bill addressed his loyal subjects from its balcony. In 1918, Karl Liebknecht stood on this balcony to

James Delingpole

Hong kong: Eating it up

The brilliant thing about Hong Kong is that you don’t have to worry for a second about all the culture you’re missing. That’s because there’s absolutely nothing to do there except shop (I got a seriously nice bespoke dinner jacket for just £400 from Lafarfalla Tailor) drink and, most importantly, eat. Oh all right, so there are some half-strenuous walks you can do in the surprisingly uncrowded countryside just outside the city (you can cab it from the centre to the pretty Shek O beach — which on weekdays is half-deserted — in just 25 minutes) but even then the main purpose of the exercise is to end up in

Emily Rhodes

Words on the street

A white van pulls up outside St Giles in the Fields, an imposing 18th century church in central London, around the corner from Tottenham Court Road station, for a couple of hours every Saturday afternoon. St Giles is known as ‘The Poets’ Church’ because it has memorials to Andrew Marvell and George Chapman, but this humble van makes the nickname more fitting. It’s a library. To be homeless is to have no fixed address, which means you can’t borrow books from a public library — but it doesn’t mean you’ve no desire to read. Quaker Homeless Action set up this mobile library in 1999, making runs into London twice a

John Gimlette

New York: Dives of the artists

Fernand Léger’s old studio now has squatters living on the doorstep. They’re an unusual sight in the new New York, especially around Bowery. These ones, at no. 222, are African and live in a huge cardboard box decorated with industrial plastic. As a pioneering modernist, Léger would have appreciated their geometry — and poverty. He’d have been less sure about the building opposite: the New Museum of Contemporary Art. It’s covered in silvery mesh, and looks like a giant speaker with a fishing boat dangling off the top. How, he might wonder, had art become so extravagant and obscure? Poor Léger, he needn’t worry. Styles may have changed, but the