According to Fred HOYLE (24), SPACE is ‘only an hour’s drive away if your car could go straight upwards’ (10 13 37 and extra letters in clues). Cars fulfilling this condition are at 5, 6, 16, 21 and 33. First prize Caroline Arms, Annapolis, MD, USA Runners-up Barry Roe, Wigston, Leicester; B. Taylor, Little Lever, Bolton
The former chief executive of News International Rebekah Brooks and her husband have given the following statement outside her London home: listen to ‘Rebekah Brooks’ statement after hacking trial acquittal’ on Audioboo
The NHS has released the findings of its investigations into Jimmy Savile’s relationship with several hospitals and the accusations of abuse. Leeds General Infirmary has been the location of the most shocking incidents, which occurred from 1962 to 2009. Victims have reported abuses ranging from inappropriate comments to sexual assault and rape. Here are the five things you need to know about the latest Savile revelations: 1. Savile ‘interfered with the bodies of deceased patients’ Long-circulated rumours about Savile and necrophilia appear to have some credence, according to the Leeds report. It appears his unfettered access to the Leeds General Infirmary led to an interest in the mortuary which ‘was
Glastonbury weekend is upon us, and the bores are out in force. West London buzzes to the sound of hoorays buying drugs, and the army surplus stalls of Portobello Market are making a killing. Conversation in these parts has been reduced to a long in-joke. Ask what’s so funny and you’ll get the same response: ‘Yah, sorry darl – it’s a Glasto thing.’ The same is probably true in every posh postcode in Britain. I’ve never been to Glastonbury and probably never will – but God have I heard enough about it. ‘Veteran’ friends look at me as one would an idiot child, explaining the life-changing wonder that I’m missing.
For the moment we only have one genius song by Tom Rosenthal, Hey Luis Don’t Bite Me (hear it below), but surely a full-blown musical isn’t far away. In the meantime we can’t wait for Hey Luis to hit the football stands: ‘There’s a party in your brain, no one is invited and no one ever came, what is going on? what on earth is going on in there? There’s magic in your feet. Diamonds in your feet, wolves in your eyes, Wait for the surprise, wait for the big surprise. Hey Luis Luis don’t bite me, Tough to be a genius, tough to be a man, tough to be a horse,
In his latest Spectator column, James Delingpole looks at a gigantic scare that lasts for decades because the experts are too embarrassed to back down… Though I’m not generally big on banning stuff, there’s one substance I would prohibit without a moment’s hesitation — probably on pain of death if that’s what it took because clearly, where vanquishing monstrous evil is concerned, no sanction is too extreme. I’m talking, of course, about the devil’s semen: semi-skimmed milk. And about its unholier cousin — aka the devil’s urine — skimmed milk. Seriously, almost nothing can conspire to ruin my day more effectively than when I order up a flat white and the barista doesn’t know
Are we seeing a global revival of religion, which is having a radical impact on politics? On this week’s View from 22 podcast, Damian Thompson debates Cristina Odone on this week’s Spectator cover feature. Is the UK and Europe unable to understand many of the current conflicts because of ardent secularism? Has our current government been too secularist; obsessed with Brangelina instead of Boko Haram? And would politics be simpler if there were no religious element at all? Isabel Hardman and Fraser Nelson discuss two political figures whose fortunes are shifting in different directions — George Osborne and Ed Miliband. Are we beginning to see the real George Osborne, who
It baffles me that German wines are still something of a hard sell in the UK. I imagine that they’re all too readily associated by consumers with that ghastly German export Liebfraumilch, which no self-respecting German will ever have heard of, let alone have drunk. Forgive me if I’m teaching you to suck eggs, but fine German Riesling, which I adore, has nothing to do with such ghastly vinous bubblegum (which is chiefly made from Müller-Thurgau) and the 2007 Weingut Göttelmann-Dautenpflänzer Riesling Kabinett Trocken ‘Halbmond’ (1), from the Nahe, is a thing of great beauty, and ideal summer fare. Bone-dry, crisp and clean, and with a nice touch of bottle
Iran, eh: who knew? Last time I checked it was the great Satan, locking up its own people, stamping out dissidents, and a centrifuge or two away from bringing nuclear winter to the world. Now it seems to be the West’s big hope in the war against the bearded hordes blitzkrieging their way through the Middle East. And as for their football team, we absolutely love them. They came just a few seconds short of severely embarrassing the hated Argies before a last-minute Messi wondergoal in their World Cup match. The crowd in Belo Horizonte clearly loved them and was full of highly photogenic young men and women in Iran
The Immigrant Church at Sletta emigrated from North Dakota 18 years ago. Built on the prairie by Norwegian settlers in the 1900s, but latterly abandoned, it was deconstructed, transported and rebuilt on the island of Radøy, off Norway’s west coast. Now it presides over the West Norway Emigration Centre, a monument to the Norwegian diaspora, where it has since been joined by a jailhouse and four other buildings also salvaged from the American Midwest. This jumbled prairie scene surprises the unwitting visitor, accustomed to the red-or-white uniformity of the wooden houses of Radøy, each one equipped with a magnificent woodpile and a flagpole bearing a tricolor pennant. The flagpole at
[audioplayer src=”http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_26_June_2014_v4.mp3″ title=”Damian Thompson vs. Cristina Odone on the role religion plays in politics” startat=44] Listen [/audioplayer]Aren’t Buddhist monks adorable? They meditate for days without needing to go to the toilet. They talk to each other in ‘grasshopper’ haikus. Their pot bellies are full of wholesome vegetarian fare. Your package tour to Southeast Asia isn’t complete without a sprinkling of them begging politely in the markets. Hollywood stars hire them for beachfront weddings because they’re so cute. Apart from the ones who are terrorists. In Burma, Buddhism has turned nasty, thanks to a gang of monks who call themselves the ‘969’, after the nine virtues of Buddha, the six elements
Driving along in the car, listening to the radio news, the boyfriend turned to me and said he thought the Michael Fabricant row a very strange one. Fabricant was being pilloried for having tweeted that he could never go on television with Yasmin Alibhai-Brown because he might ‘end up punching her in the throat’, but my man said he didn’t see what the fuss was about. ‘After all,’ he said, ‘I feel like punching you about 50 times a day.’ Reader, be assured, he was joking. Victims’ groups, hold your horses while I explain. My beloved was pretending to have punching urges for the purposes of humour. Do you see?
What image comes to mind when we think of Britain today? I was moved to contemplate this question after reading the Prime Minister’s inspiring treatise on British values, which seemed to involve ‘being quite nice’ and not referring to other people as kaffir and then trying to blow them up. Fair enough. I suppose — as an image of Britain, Sonny and Cher jihadis bringing their arcane and vicious sandblown squabble to the streets of London is perhaps a more modernist take on John Major’s vision of an old maid cycling to morning communion through the early morning mist. I suppose cyclists should be somewhere in our new vision of
Remember when masturbation was something everybody did but no one talked about? It was not most people’s idea of a conversation starter. Certainly nobody boasted about being a self-abuser. It was seen as a sorry substitute for sex, a sad stand-in for intimacy. Not any more. Masturbation has been reinvented as ‘self-love’, a healthy and positive form of self-exploration. Where once schoolboys were told it was a sin, now they’re told it is essential to good health. An NHS leaflet distributed in schools advised teens to masturbate at least twice a week, because ‘an orgasm a day’ is good for cardiovascular health. The BBC is getting in on the act,
Like any sensible, prosperous Englishman in his middle years, I spend every winter in Thailand. Indeed, I’ve been visiting the country for three decades: I can still remember my first hotel in Bangkok, a beautiful teak-stilted villa down a rat-infested alley which had the singular facility of offering heroin on room service. I went with the intention of staying a week or two. I ended up staying four months: the heroin on room service proved quite distracting. At the end of my stay I got a bill with just three things itemised: Room, Food, Powder. Now I’ve returned from maybe my fortieth visit to Thailand (I stopped doing the drugs
Khat is a leafy stimulant chewed mainly, I gather, by Somalis. This week the government banned its possession and sale. And, for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. Not being a Somali (or, indeed, a Russian murderer, whatever the sketch above might suggest) I can’t pretend that my life will now have a khat-shaped hole in it. Dimly, if I’m honest, I can remember a Swiss German hippy once giving me some leaves to chew on an Indian beach once, but they tasted horrid and I spat them out. So if I have taken khat, ever, it was then. Generally, I prefer to buy my leafy stimulants
It is blossom time in Tokyo. An unruly pack of journalists, photographers and TV crews prowls the corridors of the Grand Prince Hotel Takanawa, where a world championship is taking place. Where’s the smart money going? Who’s looking good and who’s out of sorts? Who stayed out last night and who was tucked up in bed nice and early? ‘That’s Bruce, the coach of the Canadian team, he’ll know what’s cooking,’ mutters a colleague as an anxious looking guy scuttles past. ‘And there’s the European champion,’ whispers another as a dark-suited young man darts out of a door and hurries away. A Japanese film crew sprints off in pursuit. Finally,
In 1751, William Hogarth was asked to create two prints: one depicting the evils of gin, the other the virtues of beer. Hogarth must have received a pat on the back from the brewers who commissioned him, because ‘Gin Lane’ cast gin as the greatest of all evils. It ruined mothers, and caused starvation, insanity and suicide. In ‘Beer Street’, industry and commerce thrive — and everyone is a picture of health. Gin drinking did get severely out of hand in the 18th century. In one notorious case, a woman named Judith Dufour collected her two-year-old child from the workhouse, strangled him, dumped the body and sold his clothes for 1s
A mixed case arrives from Corney & Barrow. My orders are to improvise so I pull out a bottle at random. Here it is. El Campesino, a 2013 Chardonnay (£7.13), from Chile, which has a full, direct flavour and a slightly bitter tang that cuts against the sweetness. The Dionysian experts who scour the earth on Corney & Barrow’s behalf describe it as ‘fresh’ and ‘modern’ but not ‘overly oaked’. That, I presume, is a reference to cheapskate vintners who chuck oak shavings into the barrel to enhance the flavour. No crime there, I’d say, if it produces results. Customising wine is as old as wine itself. The Romans used
11 p.m., Saturday 14 June. Football fans gather before the TV in anticipation of England vs Italy. There is quiet, save for the click and hiss of fresh lagers being opened. Football and beer are indivisible. The football was forgettable, and so — in most cases — was the lager. When was the last time you guzzled Carlstellabourg and were conscious of taste? You drink lager without noticing it. Craft beer is another matter. You can’t help but notice it — and not always in a good way, as a panel of eight seasoned drinkers discovered on the night of the England-Italy game. While waiting for kick-off, they worked their
