Society

Roger Alton

A new biography of Stanley Matthews

Lords laid on a nifty do the other day for the British Sports Book Awards, which was a great reminder of the quality of so much sports writing here. The best books duly won — Gideon Haigh’s perfectly pitched On Warne (Simon and Schuster), and the Sunday Times journalist David Walsh’s biblical Seven Deadly Sins: My Pursuit of Lance Armstrong (Walsh must by now have an Armstrong-themed trophy cabinet the size of Sir Alex Ferguson’s). But if you want a tip for next year, keep an eye on my former colleague Jon Henderson’s staggeringly well-researched life of Stanley Matthews, The Wizard (Yellow Jersey Press). It’s the first unauthorised biography of

Meet the greatest threat to our countryside: sheep

The section of the A83 that runs between Loch Long and Loch Fyne in western Scotland is known as the Rest and Be Thankful. It would be better described as the Get the Hell out of Here. For this, as far as I can tell, is the British trunk road most afflicted by landslips. The soil on the brae above the road is highly unstable. There have been six major slips since 2007, which have shut the road for a total of 34 days. The cost of these closures is estimated at about £290,000 a year. It’s a minor miracle that no one has yet been killed. The Scottish government

Lloyd Evans

It’s madness to slash the British Museum’s budget

The best argument in favour of state funding of the arts was made in the middle of the 18th century. In 1753 an Act of Parliament established the personal collection of Sir Hans Sloane as a national resource, ‘to be preserved and maintained not only for the Inspection and Entertainment of the learned and the curious, but for the general Use and Benefit of the Public’. But a dark cloud looms over the British Museum today. Rumour suggests (and ministers won’t deny) that the Chancellor is keen to lop a few million quid from its budget in the 2015/16 spending review which is due to be published this month. Culture

Don’t jump, Felipe!

Peering over my son’s shoulder as he forced himself through a pile of practice IGCSE maths papers in readiness for this week’s exams, I was shocked both by the absence of pounds sterling and by the ardently international imaginary first names dreamed up by the question-setters. That ‘I’ stands for ‘international’ — and goodness, you’re not allowed to forget it. ‘Nyali paid $62 for a bicycle.’ ‘Alejandro goes to Europe for a holiday. He changes 500 pesos into euros at an exchange rate of…’ ‘Abdul invested $240…’ ‘At 05 06 Mr Ho bought 850 fish at a market for $2.62 each…’ ‘On 1 January 2000 Ashraf was x years old.

Martin Vander Weyer

Crossrail: transport miracle or public sector folly?

Phyllis has gone to Tottenham Court Road, but Ada is having a day off. In fact she’s slumbering deep below us, just south of Bond Street station with her head under Grays Antique Centre. Phyllis and Ada are twin sisters, 140 metres long, weighing 1,000 tonnes each. I’m imagining them as domesticated versions of those monstrous sandworms on the planet -Arrakis in Frank Herbert’s Dune, with their crystal teeth and ‘bellows breath of cinnamon’. They are the tunnel-boring machines that are munching through London’s sub-terrain from Royal Oak to Farringdon where, some time in autumn 2014, they will bump into their cousins Elizabeth and Victoria, coming the other way from

Olfactory

In Competition No. 2799 you were invited to submit a poem about smells. Edward Thomas’s wonderfully evocative poem ‘Digging’ inspired this challenge:  ‘Today I think/ Only with scents, — scents dead leaves yield,/ And bracken, and wild carrot’s seed,/ And the square mustard field…’ Thanks to Brian Allgar, who submitted an entry that missed the deadline but brightened the judge’s day. Other star performers were Brian Murdoch, Martin Parker — ‘time to turn fetid, malodorous armpits/ to temptingly sensual, sweet-smelling charmpits’ — Robert Schechter, John MacRitchie and D.A. Prince. The six entries printed below earn their authors £25 each. The extra fiver goes to W.J. Webster. It’s like a button

Don’t privatise justice

Privatisation has been a hugely successful policy over the past 30 years. Unfortunately, though, the government seems to have learned the wrong lesson from it. The proposal to sell the Courts Service’s buildings, and transfer some of its staff to the private sector, promises to bring out the worst aspects of the policy: it gives a desperate government a chance to raise cash in a hurry, relieving the taxpayer of assets at a knockdown price. Meanwhile, it does nothing to replicate what has been good about privatisation: that it has opened up lazy state monopolies to competition. Claims that the measure will save the public purse £1 billion a year

Steerpike

David Dimbleby should read his Evelyn Waugh

It is a badly kept secret that David Dimbleby was in the Bullingdon Club and he has finally spoken about it, telling the Radio Times that he ‘loved being elected’ to the notorious Oxford dining society and that he is ‘very proud of the uniform’ that he still fits into. Refreshing honesty, especially after years of hearing politicians profess their deep shame at their involvement. Dimbleby goes on: ‘We never did these disgusting disgraceful things that Boris did. We never broke windows or got wildly drunk. It was a completely different organisation from what it became when Boris Johnson, David Cameron, and George Osborne joined, who seemed to be ashamed of it,

With 190,000 finance jobs gone, isn’t it time for banker bashing to stop?

It’s not going to be a popular rallying cry, I admit. Somehow ‘Save the Bankers’ doesn’t quite pull at the heartstrings in the same way as ‘Save the Whales’ or ‘Save the Pandas’. Yet the news comes to us today that UK banks will have slashed nearly 190,000 jobs worldwide by the end of next year from their peak staffing levels. That’s equal to the whole population of Geneva. The figure applies only to the Big Four banks of RBS, HSBC, Lloyds and Barclays, so the number for all City-based banks is probably larger. Nor is what is happening with the Square Mile’s financial institutions only a reflection of the

Alex Massie

Free Caledonia: a land of opportunity (and corporate welfare) for Big Business?

It is not unusual to hear dark warnings of what might happen if Scotland votes for independence. Big Business is flighty. It is rather more unusual to hear leading business figures suggest they might leave Scotland if the country does not vote for independence. But that’s what Jim McColl, the chief executive of Clyde Blowers Capital, has done. Scotland, he suggests, is held back by the fact that UK economic policy is dictated by the needs of the City of London and the south-east of England. I fancy there are plenty of folk in the north of England, Wales and Northern Ireland who might agree with that diagnosis. Independence is actually, I

Spectator debate: Assad is a war criminal — the West must intervene in Syria

With further reports today that Bashar Assad is deploying chemical weapons in Syria, the prospect of intervention looms larger than ever. The EU is talking about lifting its arms embargo (at Britain’s insistence) and France’s foreign minister talks about “stronger and better substantiated indications of the local use of chemical arms”. Barack Obama has indicated that the use of chemical weapons would trigger American military action – but he’ll be aware that intervention in Syria is deeply unpopular in America. He’d have not much to gain, and rather a lot to lose. But should the West go ahead anyway? On Monday 24 June, The Spectator will hold a debate at

Fraser Nelson

Britain doesn’t need a Snooping Act, or another new terrorism committee

I would have loved to have been in the room when David Cameron’s advisers were thinking of an acronym for the new anti-terror committee. Something that sounded scary enough, but not too Monty Python. They eventually went for TERFOR, according to the Mail on Sunday, although it’s still unclear what the T will stand for. But there’s still time. It reminds me of an old New Statesman competition where readers were invited to invent a committee whose acronym mocked its existence. The great Robert Conquest won, teasing the mag for its sympathetic approach to the Soviets: his proposal was Institute for New Statesman Editors and Contributors for Underwriting the Russian

Isabel Hardman

Can any government really expect to carry out ambitious reform?

That Universal Credit is one of the government projects at risk of failing is not a surprise, especially not if you’re a Spectator reader. We warned back in September 2012 that the Whitehall machine was already trying to put the brakes on the project. Officials did try their very best yesterday to avoid a big fuss about the danger this project, and others, is in, by publishing the Major Projects Authority’s annual report late on a Friday afternoon with as little fanfare as possible. It was a cynical thing to do, and also underestimated the ability of journalists following the progress of Universal Credit to read a press release properly.

Freddy Gray

Eight Golden Rules for Tragedy Tweeting

We’ve had a lot of horrible news this week, and inevitably that means a lot of tragedy tweeting. You know the sort of thing: a terror attack or a natural disaster happens, and everybody hops on the internet to share their reactions and emote ad nauseam. There’s not much point railing against this. Twitter is here to stay. But please — just so we don’t all go mad — can we lay down some basic DO NOT rules for tweeting in the wake of an appalling major news story? Below are the first eight that spring to mind, but please do add more… 1. Do not take to Twitter to

Vice is vanishing from Britain

In this week’s issue of the Spectator, Leo McKinstry argues that Britain is dropping all its most harmful habits. Here is an excerpt: ‘According to the pessimistic narrative of national decline, Britain is now drowning in the effluence of moral collapse. We inhabit a country supposedly awash with vice and decadence. If we aren’t playing poker or bingo on our computer screens, then we are watching pornography. Our streets are said to be dominated by betting shops and lap-dancing clubs, by drug addicts and binge-drinkers. Yet for all its hold on the popular imagination, the idea of worsening degeneracy in modern Britain is not backed up by the evidence. Our society is

Why, once again, a fall in student immigration is good

Yesterday came the news that net migration has once again fallen, this time to its lowest level for ten years. In the year ending September 2012, net migration was 153,000. That is a fall of 89,000 on the previous year when it reached a dizzy 242,000. This is undeniably good news. The public have consistently shown their desire to see net migration reduced and we now have a government which is committed to lowering net migration and has so far had considerable success. Many on the left, who cannot bring themselves to admit that net migration of 200,000 per year is too much for a small island such as ours,

The British paedophile who’s still on the run

In the current issue of the Spectator, I write about Warwick Spinks, a convicted British paedophile who hid in plain sight in Prague for some 15 years. In 1997, having already been released early from a 7-year (later reduced to 5-year) prison sentence delivered in 1995, Spinks violated the terms of his probation and fled the country. It was not long before he wound up in Prague, ‘the Bangkok of Europe’, where a series of British newspapers reported he was running sex tourism packages for gay men operating under the alias of ‘Willem’ and posing as a Dutch national. It was in this guise that I became acquainted with ‘Willem’,

Taki: What’s Cannes all about? Seducing someone important

Cannes It’s raining, the stars are hiding, the hacks and paparazzi are waterlogged and frustrated, and the shimmering images of the beautiful people walking up the red carpet are just that, images of glories long gone. The film festival used to be a glamorous affair when I was a young man. I remember the brouhaha when a French wannabe starlet ripped off her bra and showed them to Robert Mitchum, reputed to be by far the most intelligent actor of his time. He raised his eyebrows and congratulated her. He was walking alone on the Croisette without heavies or PR pests clearing his way. No one bothered him. That was

Low life: Life lessons at the Devon County Show

The weatherman had breezily predicted a fine, warm, spring day — and it was. We were on the road early, my grandson sitting beside me on his booster seat, keenly searching the unfolding scenery with his pellucid blue eyes for notable things to report. At three and a half years old his speech and understanding have taken a Great Leap Forward. His days of vacuous innocence are behind him. He has become garrulous and vivacious and imbued with a fervent desire for knowledge and experience. And what better thing could there be to satisfy that desire than to spend a day with his grandfather at the Devon County Show. His