Society

Thursday

Douglas Murray

The unfashionable truth about the riots

As the days slip by, the likelihood that anything will be learned from the recent rioting looks ever more remote. And with that suspicion comes the inevitable sense of déjà-vu. Because we have indeed been here before. In 2011 England was engulfed by riots, originating in London but leading to copycat violence across the north of England. The ostensible cause that time was the shooting by police of Mark Duggan, a charming young drug dealer who was in possession of a gun. The initial unrest in Tottenham may well have started as a result of claims that police had shot an innocent man – and an innocent black man at

Mary Wakefield Mary Wakefield

Why children have stopped reading

It’s only when you read the old stories again, to a child maybe, that you become aware of the extent to which the characters still live inside your mind, bobbing about just below the level of consciousness. I still find myself puzzling over the stories collected by the Brothers Grimm, decades after I first read them. How could Little Red Riding Hood have avoided being eaten? (We read the original, merciless version.) What should Hansel and Gretel have done? Any good book leaves its mark, but the characters from the books you loved as a child embed themselves. They inform the way you think as an adult, which is why

The Spectator

Who is your favourite character in children’s literature?

Rod Liddle Rabbits, always rabbits. I remember at age 13 forcing my poor parents to trudge despondently across hilly downland on the borders between Berkshire and Hampshire, with me jubilantly pointing out stuff like: ‘Look, it’s the combe where Bigwig met the fox!’ and ‘I think this could be the Efrafa warren!’ For a while, Watership Down jostled uneasily with the grown-up stuff I was just beginning to enjoy – Jack Kerouac, James Thurber, Ray Bradbury – but it still held a big claim on me and does today. Better than On the Road, isn’t it? Watership Down also took me back from the awkwardness of puberty to the safety

Toby Young Toby Young

Free speech stops riots 

With depressing predictability, the riots have led to calls for more censorship. Historically, it was the authoritarian right who blamed outbreaks of civil disorder on too much free speech, but this knee-jerk, illiberal reaction is now more likely to be found on the left. I’m not just thinking of Paul Mason, who called for Ofcom to revoke GB News’s broadcast licence, or even Carole Cadwalladr, who tweeted: ‘This should be our Dunblane moment. Only with social media not guns.’ I’m thinking of statements by the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary. Is Sir Keir going to urge the police to investigate his own role in ‘whipping up violence’? In his

Flora Watkins

Love it or loathe it, ragwort is winning 

White, lacy cow parsley frothing along the roadside is a familiar sight during the British summer. But 2024 is the first year I can remember when it’s been superseded by the retina-scorching yellow of ragwort. Whether you consider common ragwort (Senecio jacobaea) the ‘yellow peril’ or a precious wildflower crucial to biodiversity depends on whether you’re in the horse owner/farmer camp or a conservationist. ‘It’s the worst I’ve ever seen,’ I keep hearing from farmers and fellow horse-owners. For the first time I’ve had to pull it up from our small acreage; enough to fill a feed sack. In Appleshaw in Hampshire, villagers organised a community ragwort pull, getting an

Olivia Potts Olivia Potts

Yorkshire curd tart: a well-kept, delicious secret

There are many old dishes in the UK that are hyper-regional, whose reach has never extended beyond geographical boundaries but remain much loved where they originated. Yorkshire curd tart is a good example: it is barely known beyond God’s own county (or God’s own four counties, which now technically make up what we think of as Yorkshire). There is no good reason for this – Yorkshire curd tart is just a delicious well-kept secret. The tart enjoyed its heyday in the 17th century, when most families would have kept their own cow It was traditionally baked for Whitsun, or Pentecost, the day the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus’s disciples. Curd

Roger Alton Roger Alton

This Olympics belongs to the female athletes

You knew it was going to be a superb Olympics from the moment Celine Dion belted out an Edith Piaf classic from the Eiffel Tower. And nothing since has disappointed – not least commentator Mark Chapman having to say things like ‘She was late with her eskimo roll’ during the incomprehensible kayak cross. But amid such a banquet of sporting greatness, what to single out? This has been a fantastic Games for women. And remember that the founder of the Olympics, Pierre de Coubertin, was opposed to the participation of female athletes, largely to preserve their dignity. Different times admittedly, but even so the 1500m became an event for women

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: how do I set up two young people?

Q. I have invited some younger friends to stay with me at a family house in Spain. Among the party will be an excellent young fellow who I sense is attracted to my niece, who will also be joining us for a few days. Were I to ask if she is interested, she would think such a question ‘gross’ – but she should be, because he is an all-round star. Like so many of his age, though, he has a somewhat dithering and unconfident manner. Given that it will be too hot to dance, any thoughts about how I can help things move forward between them? They are both single.

Tanya Gold Tanya Gold

A French restaurant Glastonbury would be proud to host: Café Lapérouse reviewed

I am working my way around the restaurants of the Old War Office (OWO), now an acronym and Raffles hotel on Whitehall, because the swiftness with which the great institutions of the state have become leisure opportunities for the wrongfully rich is dark, mesmerising and, if you don’t mind too much anarchy, funny. I have reviewed the cold, painted Saison, and the lively Italian Paper Moon, which a kind reader wrote to say he loved and which I do not expect to survive. It is too joyful and well-priced for the wrongfully rich and their internal landscape of nude cashmere and paranoia. It squeaked through. The transience of the exterior

Dot Wordsworth

What is ‘thuggery’? 

The word that Sir Keir Starmer, the Prime Minister, chose to describe the action of rioters was more interesting than he perhaps knew. ‘I won’t shy away from calling it what it is – far-right thuggery.’ Thuggery throve in India, was suppressed by imperial authorities and has been revived in a different form in the gangsta culture of black America. A thug was, the OED tells us, ‘a member of a society or cult of robbers and murderers in India known for strangling their victims’. The word was first noted in English usage in 1810. Between 1826 and 1840 more than 14,000 thugs were hanged, transported, or imprisoned for life

Lloyd Evans Lloyd Evans

Being mugged changes you forever

Being mugged changes you forever. My encounter with highwaymen occurred three decades ago in a south London street, in the early evening as I emerged from a corner-shop. I was transferring some coins from one hand to the other when four men pounced on me from behind, tipped me over and dragged me down a lane between a derelict pub and a car park. I lay there surrounded, waiting for the inevitable violence, but my attackers grabbed the cash that had fallen from my hands and melted away into the night. I always avoid high-risk areas: towpaths, churchyards, parks at dusk – anywhere without cameras I was left feeling shocked,

Melissa Kite

An ode to the builder boyfriend

Relationships are about compromise and no wonder so many of us come a cropper in this department when we don’t embrace this central truth. There is a man out there (using the term loosely) who would dutifully follow my orders to go to a fancy boutique during his trip to London and buy me an Ortigia liquid soap in Zagara fragrance, but that man is not the builder boyfriend. All the time the BB has been away the spaniels have pined for him and been hypervigilant, barking at every sound A few years ago, I forced him into a shop called Evie Loves Toast to buy me this posh hand

Robin Oakley

The glory of Glorious Goodwood

You wouldn’t want to have been collecting the empties from Robins Farm, Chiddingfold, last week. There is no more sociable man in racing than George Baker: when I parked alongside him at Royal Ascot once, he had a flask of Bloody Marys on offer almost before I had the car door open. Nobody could have been better suited to celebrating triumph in the Goodwood Stewards’ Cup as he was on Saturday after Pat Cosgrave had led all the way to win the historic sprint on the 40-1 shot Get It. The cheery band who constitute the MyRacehorse & Partners syndicate and their friends provided the most joyous scenes I’ve ever

Janet de Botton

Bridge | 10 August 2024

What can you say about the Rimstedt brothers that hasn’t already been said? They returned from the American Nationals in Toronto just in time to join their father’s team, and went on to win the Chairman’s Cup in Sweden for the third year running. This hand was reported to me by a friend who was there, showing that, not only are they incredibly good, they also sometimes like to play to the gallery (see diagram). West’s little toy showed five-five in two unknown suits (yes, apparently that’s still legal in some parts of the world), and East’s 3♣ just asked to bail out as soon as possible. What was Mikael

Luke McShane

British Championships

The stench of burning rubber hung in the air as I trudged back to my hotel in Hull city centre last Saturday evening. A wheelie bin lay in the street, with a fire flickering out next to it. Everywhere there were tired-looking policemen, obviously relieved the yobs had dispersed. I too was spent, and a little deflated, though there was one brawl that day which I had relished. I’d faced the experienced grandmaster Stuart Conquest in the penultimate round of the British Championships, held in Hull’s City Hall. After five tense hours of play, I came agonisingly close to winning, though Stuart’s stout defensive effort ensured I also had to stay

The Spectator

The inherent unfairness of the Olympics

The Olympics can hardly fail to be the greatest show on Earth. For the last two weeks, the world has been transfixed by sports which attract little interest at any other time. From beach volleyball to BMX bike racing to obscure forms of wrestling – all, briefly, seem to be vitally important, such is the prestige of winning a gold medal. Yet at the same time there is something rotten about the modern Games. Their pretension to moral virtue is too often at odds with reality. They impose such a burden on their host cities that only a few countries in the world are capable of staging them. The 2024

Luke McShane

No. 813

White to play and mate in two moves. Composed by C.W.M. Feist, Hampshire Magazine, 1884. Email answers to chess@spectator.co.uk by Monday 12 August. There is a prize of £20 for the first correct answer out of a hat. Please include a postal address and allow six weeks for prize delivery. Last week’s solution 1…Rxh4+! 2 gxh4 Be5+ 3 Kh1 Qh3+ 4 Kg1 Qg2 mate Last week’s winner Simon Foale, Farnham, Surrey

The Spectator

Portrait of the week: riots and Russia’s prisoner swap

Home A week of riots, with violence against the police, threats to Muslims, burning of vehicles and looting (Greggs, Shoezone, Sainsbury’s Local) broke out in Liverpool, Sunderland, London, Hartlepool, Manchester, Hull, Aldershot, Stoke-on-Trent, Bristol, Bolton, Tamworth, Portsmouth, Weymouth, Leeds, Rotherham, Middlesbrough, Nottingham, Blackpool, Plymouth and Belfast. The Northern Ireland Assembly was recalled. Rioters attacked hotels where asylum-seekers were living. They threw fencing, beer kegs, glass bottles and furniture at police, wounding scores. Activity was coordinated on social media. The anger of most rioters was directed against Muslims in general and hotels housing asylum-seekers. ‘Save our children’ was one of the chants. This in part followed a misapprehension about the person

Victoria Lane

Spectator Competition: To the letter

In Competition 3361 you were invited to submit a passage or poem whose meaning was affected by some missing, substituted or surplus letters. I should have said ‘corrupted’ as, perhaps predictably, many of the mistakes were rude and puerile (not a complaint). Ideally the correct version could be glimpsed, giving things an alternative–universe quality. Shout-outs to Max Ross (‘Autumn makes me think of Teats’), Ralph Goldswain (‘I ask you to eject me with a lardslide’) and Janine Beacham (‘I ponder the toad not taken, the beauty of the red, red nose, and what hips my hips have missed. Ah, the powder of worms!’). The winners receive £25. To understand the