Society

Carola Binney

What I’d like in the Budget: more support for teachers

To start on a glamorous note: subsidised bus fares for those in full-time education outside London. I turned 16 in the same year my dad turned 60, and just as I had to pay full (and, in Oxford, whopping) bus fares, he got a free bus pass. At 16 you’re now obliged by law to be in full-time education, so it’s not possible to be earning as much as an adult – why should you pay as much? Public transport is a great thing for young people, enabling them to be independent in an environmentally and traffic-friendly way: let’s make it affordable. Then there’s the shortage of good teachers for

Camilla Swift

Why culling isn’t a black and white issue

To cull or not to cull: that is – once again – the question. This time it’s not badgers, deer, or even goats that are being discussed, but wild boar. Locals in the Forest of Dean have complained that these giant pigs are attacking their dogs, spooking the horses, causing car accidents, and tearing up gardens and football pitches. The Forestry Commission have estimated that the numbers of boar are doubling almost every year, and they believe there are currently about 800 living in the 43 square miles of woodland. If the Forestry Commission get their way, half of these would be culled. But is that really such a big

Spectator competition winners: 50 shades of…

Last week, you were asked to dream up a short story entitled “Fifty Shades of”. The entries were a bit of a mixed bag, but I enjoyed Gerard Benson’s twist on Empson’s Seven Types of Ambiguity, Josh Ekroy’s 50 Shades of Ukip and Carolyn Thomas-Coxhead’s clever, grisly tale of a woman reduced to a piece of meat. Though not all of you went the E.L. James route, Chris O’Carroll’s winning entry clearly took its lead from the queen of erotica, as well as from another publishing sensation whose appeal I find equally mystifying. He is rewarded with 50 lashes and £30, and his fellow winners pocket £25 each. Fifty Shades

In praise of those who have improved healthcare in Staffordshire

Last week, the House of Commons considered the vital matter of the Francis Report – one year on. It is quite difficult at this stage in the tragedy of Stafford hospital to recall how it all came about and the difficulties that those of us who experienced it had to endure, the patients and the victims in particular. There was complete and total resistance, a granite-like refusal, to having a proper look at what was going on. A tooth and nail battle had to be fought to get the Inquiry in the first place, under the Inquiries Act 2005. I was absolutely astonished that successive Secretaries of State completely refused,

Camilla Swift

Cheltenham Gold Cup predictions: Peter Oborne, Robin Oakley, and more

The jewel in the crown of the Cheltenham Festival – the Gold Cup – starts this afternoon at 3.20. And, unsurprisingly, today is also one of the biggest betting days of the year, with both bookies and punters hoping to recoup their losses – or improve on their winnings. We asked some of our experts who they will be putting their money on. Peter Oborne, The Spectator’s associate editor: Willie Mullins and Ruby Walsh is the combination to follow at this festival, on which basis I will be backing On His Own at decent odds of around 20-1. Robin Oakley, writer of The Turf column: I am going for Triolo

The Early Access to Innovative Medicines scheme will make us healthier for longer

Imagine this: you take a routine trip to the doctors. Except it doesn’t turn out to be routine at all. Instead, the doctor tells you that you only have months to live. Worse still, there is no certified cure. There is a potential drug that could save your life, but it’s stuck in a regulatory tangle, waiting for approval which takes years. It might come on the market in a decade. But by then, of course, it will be too late for you. Ludicrous, surely? Yet that has been the dilemma facing too many over recent years, unable to get access to the drugs that could save their lives. Decades

The poetry and poignancy of the Consumer Prices Index

Tufted carpets out, flavoured milk in. Canvas shoes in, take away coffee out. Last year we accepted spreadable butter, dropped round lettuce. In 2006 we let in the chicken kiev and waved goodbye to the baseball cap. Call me a foolish commodity fetishist but I love the Consumer Prices Index (CPI). I could happily curl up in bed reading these lists of goods that have (or haven’t) made it into the national shopping basket that is the CPI that the ONS use to track inflation. The ebb and flow of consumables (and rejectables) is as evocative and poignant as any literature could be. Reading the 2010 roll call, I almost found myself

The Spectator website through the ages

How has The Spectator weathered the first 25 years of the web? In Simon Courtauld’s excellent history of this magazine To Convey Intelligence 1928-1998, he explains how the magazine’s website was born under the direction of Kimberly Fortier: ‘Under Fortier’s influence, The Spectator’s Doughty Street house adopted a new look in 1998, with its 18th-century front door and fanlight painted bright red and, at its summer party to celebrate its 170th anniversary, a huge red bow festooned the facade. On the same evening lights were beamed on to the draped bookshelves of the literary editor’s office, announcing that The Spectator now had its own website on the Internet. It was fast becoming

How ‘de-escalate’ escalated

‘What we want to see,’ David Cameron said last week, ‘is a de-escalation.’ Or, as the Tanaiste of Ireland put it: ‘If the Russian authorities do not de-escalate this crisis, the EU will take consequential action.’ In other words: make it less serious, or we’ll take it very seriously. De-escalate sounds a nasty new word. It is indeed fairly new, first recorded in 1964. But in The Spectator for 14 September 1967, Douglas Skelton wrote from Washington: ‘A good case can be made for the thesis that the administration is seriously preparing to de-escalate the war.’ That was Vietnam. ‘Imagine the scene in the middle of next year, or even

The tragedy of Armenia (and its brandy)

It is impossible not to sympathise with Armenia. It has spent much of its history between the hammer and the anvil, trying to fend off imperial predators and usually failing. What if the Armenians had inhabited the British Isles? Apart from the savage Irish in their bogs and cabins, the main enemy would have been the French, whose malevolence could be drowned in the English Channel. With such a happy geography, Armenians would be as numerous and prosperous as we are. But neither geography nor history was benign, with one paradoxical exception. Because the Russians rescued them from the Turks, the Armenians were rarely disloyal to the Soviet Union. Even

Toby Young

Death brings out everyone’s inner Mary Whitehouse

Shortly after Bob Crow’s death was announced on Tuesday, Nigel Farage sent the following tweet: ‘Sad at the death of Bob Crow. I liked him and he also realised working-class people were having their chances damaged by the EU.’ Cue a predictable storm of Twitter outrage. Farage was attacked for trying to make political capital out of Crow’s death. The following tweet, from the ex-FT journalist Ben Fenton, was typical: ‘Bit off-key for @Nigel_Farage to link a tribute to Bob Crow to his own anti-EU rhetoric, I think.’ Now, some of those criticising Farage had a political axe to grind. They were claiming Farage had broken an unwritten rule that

I want to age like the Three Tenors

In February each year the Oldie magazine gives ‘Oldie of the Year Awards’ to people who show unusual vigour and enterprise in old age. This year’s winner was Mary Berry, the cookery teacher, who at 78 had achieved sudden fame as a presenter and judge on the BBC television show The Great British Bake Off. ‘I just love being an oldie,’ she said. ‘There’s no Botox, no implants and no tucks, and that’s how I think we should all be.’ While this surely reflects the views of Richard Ingrams, the Oldie’s founder and editor, not everyone would agree. To look one’s age as a pastry cook may be no disadvantage,

A night on a hospital ward with Paddy Leigh Fermor

The catheter stung exquisitely when I lay down. So I stood up. All night I stood by my hospital bed, tethered by my penis to the transparent collection bag hanging off the bed rail, reading Artemis Cooper’s life of Patrick Leigh Fermor. In 1931, not knowing what to do with himself, Paddy walked to Constantinople, as he called it. I rested the paperback on my pillow under the spotlight and walked with him across Europe, much of it still feudal. Our hero had just emerged from a hayrick after having a spontaneous foursome with his Serbian girlfriend and two Hungarian peasant girls they had met in a field, when I

The end of snow? Not in Gstaad

 Gstaad The American newspaper that prints only news it sees fit to poison good things recently announced ‘The end of snow’. ‘The planet has warmed 1.4 degrees Fahrenheit since the 1800s, and, as a result, snow is melting…’ Bring on the Pulitzers, snow melts! The Big Bagel Times also thundered that Europe has lost half its Alpine glacial ice since the 1850s — yes, the 1850s, when private jets ferried people such as Abe Lincoln around America, Otto von Bismarck polluted German resorts in his supercharged Mercedes-Benz, and young Taki steamed around the Med in a 100 mph speedboat powered by black slaves. Well, I for one don’t believe a

If BBC3 was allowed to keep its hits, perhaps it wouldn’t be getting booted online

So BBC3 will be online-only from next autumn. If the Beeb had presented this news as the channel being the first one to take the daring step of migrating to the internet, instead of it being booted out to save the likes of BBC4, perhaps BBC3 fans would be feeling less aggrieved. After all, as companies like Netflix demonstrate, the future of TV is probably on the web. Linear channels are just so, well, linear and old-fashioned. The Beeb says the move is part of its cost-cutting, and will result in £30 million more for BBC1 (presumably enough to replenish Sherlock’s coat supply). I had hoped that, as a consequence,

Martin Vander Weyer

Any other business: Turn down those token directorships, girls, and tell them you want to be chairman

Last Saturday was International Women’s Day, but we celebrated early in Helmsley when my Yorkshire home town was featured in national news last month as a beacon of recession-beating female entrepreneurship: 60 per cent of our new ventures have female owners. This is shaping up to be a good year for women in business generally, what with Vince Cable voicing support for all-women shortlists for directorships of FTSE 100 companies with a view to achieving 25 per cent representation by 2015, up from 20 per cent today. The Business Secretary has been busy behind the scenes, too. ‘We had a letter from Vince telling us we should appoint a female

James Delingpole

I’ve seen the future of conservatism at CPac – and it doesn’t work

[audioplayer src=”http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_13_March_2014_v4.mp3″ title=”James Delingpole and Freddy Gray discuss the ups and downs of CPac” startat=1124] Listen [/audioplayer]About the coolest guy I saw at CPac this year was this wild-eyed, middle–aged crazy wearing ‘statement’ spectacles, faded Levis and a badge on his immaculately cut, grey wool Timothy Everest suit-coat saying ‘2012 WTF?’ I was looking in the bathroom mirror at the time and the drugs were just starting to kick in. Not proper Hunter S. Thompson drugs, unfortunately. Just some imported Indian-made version of the anti-narcolepsy drug Modafinil, kind of a low-level, legal amphetamine, which I’d taken to ward off the effects of the truly Babylonian party at Breitbart’s Capitol Hill

Mary Wakefield

Libya is imploding. Why doesn’t David Cameron care?

A few days ago I went to a talk about Syria; one of those events for the concerned layman, in which a panel of experts give a briefing. Everything sounded depressingly familiar until expert number three piped up: I hear people blame Saudi Arabia and Qatar for the Islamists in Syria, he said, but in fact, they more often come from Libya. The crowd shifted in discomfort. Isn’t Libya done and dusted? Oh no, said the expert, it’s full of al-Qa’eda training camps now, especially in Benghazi. My first thought, unusually, was to feel sorry for David Cameron. Remember how proud he was on his victory visit to Tripoli at