Society

Saturday

Mary Killen

Dear Mary | 25 August 2007

Q. I am going to stay with some grown-ups in a house next to the beach in Suffolk. I will be the only boy of eight who is staying. The other children are too old to play with me. There is no television and I have finished the Harry Potters. What can I do? L.B., Camden Town, London A. You might follow the example of Milo Rowse, aged eight, and his friend William Polito who staged a summer display outside Milo’s house in Thorpeness. The boys filled a disused aquarium with a selection of 20 or so insects and other wildlife ranging from beetles to woodlice to newts, all found

The Spectator

Letters to the Editor | 25 August 2007

Sir: Jeremy Clarke’s interpretation of J.S. Mill (‘Can working men’s clubs survive the smoking ban?’, 18 August) is, I fear, pretty ropey. His first point, that a non-smoker forced to breath in tobacco fumes is in effect under attack and legislation may be needed to defend him, is easily disposed of. Run of the Mill Sir: Jeremy Clarke’s interpretation of J.S. Mill (‘Can working men’s clubs survive the smoking ban?’, 18 August) is, I fear, pretty ropey. His first point, that a non-smoker forced to breath in tobacco fumes is in effect under attack and legislation may be needed to defend him, is easily disposed of. Many proposed to the

Matthew Dancona

Roll up for Humphrys versus Paxman

If you didn’t hear it, don’t miss John Humphrys interviewing Jeremy Paxman on this morning’s Today programme (you can hear it online). Paxman has issued a resounding critique of British broadcasting generally and the BBC specifically which will – given the power of his brand – probably have more impact than any attack on the Corporation since Dennis Potter called John Birt a “croak-voiced Dalek”. Paxman wants television and radio to define “a clear sense of purpose”, an ethical mission beyond the imperatives of business, and he sounded, as you would expect, very plausible. Yet the appeal, frankly, of this exchange had nothing to do with the content and everything to

Theodore Dalrymple

Global Warning | 25 August 2007

The historian Sir Lewis Namier once said that in a drop of dew could be seen all the colours of the rainbow, presumably as a reply to those who accused him of writing more and more about less and less. However, it is definitely true that in the smallest interactions can be seen the temper of the times: in our case, the bad temper of the times. I was waiting for my wife in a car park in France recently when I noticed that the car next to me was British. In the car, door open, was a little boy of eight or nine. He was extremely handsome, and had

William Shawcross

Now, more than ever, Britain must stay in Iraq

William Shawcross denounces those who say we must stand firm in Afghanistan but flee the country we liberated from Saddam Hussein. The US ‘surge’ is beginning to work, and Gordon Brown must grasp that the war against Islamism is indivisible The new comfort zone for many politicians and leader-writers appears to be the notion that if Britain withdraws its troops from Iraq and sends all the freed-up forces to Afghanistan, then all will be well. Siren voices are insisting that honour would be satisfied by such a move and we would still be pulling our weight in what Gordon Brown refuses to call ‘the war on terror’ or ‘the war

Anna Blundy

We blondes face prejudice every day of our lives

It is time someone spoke out against the vicious discrimination casually meted out to blonde women in all areas of life. Attractive blonde women are especially liable to be subject to open and unapologetic abuse in the most ordinary of circumstances. Somehow, in this dark corner where the exposing floodlight of feminism has yet to shine, it is still acceptable to make sexist ‘jokes’ and it is still acceptable to state that a person’s appearance makes them unsuitable for the job. Blonde humour is the last bastion of the Bernard Manning (may he rest in peace) –style sexism that women have fought against for so long. Anyone so much as

Carol Sarler

Don’t waste time courting ‘moderate’ Muslims

Enlisting the help of ‘moderate’ Muslims is pointless Funny the difference a few weeks can make. When I went away for an extended holiday, the subtle but unmistakable consensus on the threat to life and limb was more or less as it had been for some years: that jihadists are rotten fellows, but only small in number when compared with the ‘vast majority’ of ‘moderate Muslims’ who are, of course, not culpable. At all. Of anything. Ever. When I came back, the consensus had shifted. Now, it appears, they might be a teeny bit worthy of blame after all — not for the violence itself, but for failing to keep

Frank Keating

Women in white

Just about the most warming, sun-beaming day of this monsoon summer was spent in a cuddly western nook of the Malvern Hills at blissful Colwall, watching a languid few hours’ play of a Minor Counties match between Herefordshire and Devon. President of the Devon club is venerable dumpling David Shepherd, not long retired as all cricket’s finest umpire. Roly-poly Shep still terribly misses life in the middle. No wonder — up to last year when, at 65, he had to hand in his white coat, he’d been up early and expectant and ‘gone to the cricket’ for almost half a century, first as a stalwart county pro, then as everybody’s

Hugo Rifkind Hugo Rifkind

I came so close to the ignominy of being killed by a giraffe

You will have smirked. Shame on you, but you will. Yet reluctantly, and out of respect for the recently deceased, I intend to tread lightly over the story of the Australian pet collector killed earlier this week by her own overamorous camel. I shall note, with a restrained interest, the use of the word ‘humped’ in several tabloid headlines. I may, coyly, draw your attention to the victim’s reported ‘love of exotic animals’. There, however, I shall rest. I am no ghoul. Instead, I am going to talk about a different sort of camel. G. camelopardis, to be precise, the South African giraffe. To be even more precise, I am

Rod Liddle Rod Liddle

I want three years’ paternity leave for each of my children — backdated

I am presently mulling over the idea of taking the next three years off from this journalism lark and spending the time instead on ‘paternity leave’. This is a new proposal by some Tory think tank so I am assuming that a) Cameron will win the next election and b) adopt the idea and c) have the grace to backdate it to the birth of my daughter, Emmeline, two years ago. Better still, he could backdate it to cover the birth of my two sons as well, thus giving me a total of nine years’ paid leave, which should comfortably see me through until the old liver packs up. The

Kate Chisholm

The nature of power

The weirdest moment on A Royal Recovery (Radio Four, Tuesday) was not hearing the astonished reaction of the Palace to the dramatic flip in public opinion in the days and weeks following the death of Princess Diana or the simmering hostility and blatant criticism of the Queen from Joe Public, but listening once again to the gushing tones of TB. He already sounds like yesterday’s man. The former PM must surely have regretted that all-too-quotable ‘the people’s princess’, but we were also reminded of a later occasion when he toasted the Queen at a formal lunch to celebrate her golden jubilee in 2002. ‘I am as proud as proud can

The Spectator

A travesty of justice

On Tuesday, Jack Straw, the Justice Secretary, claimed that, in the case of Philip Lawrence’s murderer, Learco Chindamo, ‘we were misled by the system’. That is true: it is monstrous that the 26-year-old Chindamo, who stabbed the head teacher to death in December 1995, will now escape deportation to Italy, the country of his birth. On Tuesday, Jack Straw, the Justice Secretary, claimed that, in the case of Philip Lawrence’s murderer, Learco Chindamo, ‘we were misled by the system’. That is true: it is monstrous that the 26-year-old Chindamo, who stabbed the head teacher to death in December 1995, will now escape deportation to Italy, the country of his birth.

Michael Tanner

Moments of despair

The Edinburgh International Festival got off to a shaky start this year. As usual, there was a large-scale orchestral and vocal work in the Usher Hall, but whereas it has normally been a choral blockbuster, this was Bernstein’s Candide, in a narrated version, with Thomas Allen doubling, or trebling, as Narrator and Pangloss and Martin. In the former role he repeated his urbane performance at the Festival Hall of two years ago, with many a nod and wink, and an overall tone of self-congratulation. His singing is now dry but of course supremely accomplished, more so than almost anyone else’s. Matthew Polenzani was a weedy Candide, Laura Aikin had little

Simon Hoggart

Spectator mini-bar offer

The name of Robert Parker, the oenological sage of Maryland, is not often invoked by British merchants, who tend to sniff that he is too keen on overflavoured wines that lack subtlety and finesse. On the other hand, when he gives a wine an over-the-top rave, they often find they can swallow their disdain. Take this ‘First Growth’ Cabernet Sauvignon 2000 (4) from Coonawarra, made by the Parker Estate (no relation). ‘Stunning …a super wine …dark, opaque, ruby/purple coloured, sensational nose of wood, fruit and herbs … full-bodied, superbly concentrated, well-balanced, just beginning to unfold. Can easily compete with the best of Bordeaux and California.’ It is indeed a wonderful

Matthew Lynn

Does Britain still need an arms industry?

The fiercer the fighting for our boys in Basra and Helmand, the more important you may think it is that Britain has a thriving arms industry to supply them. The reasons that this isn’t so can be summed up in one Arabic phrase which translates, ironically, as ‘dove of peace’: Al Yamamah. The fiercer the fighting for our boys in Basra and Helmand, the more important you may think it is that Britain has a thriving arms industry to supply them. The reasons that this isn’t so can be summed up in one Arabic phrase which translates, ironically, as ‘dove of peace’: Al Yamamah. Over the past 20 years, Saudi

John Osullivan

How Dear Bill became editor

In 1974 the Daily Telegraph was teetering on the edge of unaccustomed conflict. Maurice Green’s long and successful reign as editor was ending at the very moment when the paper’s editorship was rising in significance. In 1974 the Daily Telegraph was teetering on the edge of unaccustomed conflict. Maurice Green’s long and successful reign as editor was ending at the very moment when the paper’s editorship was rising in significance. The Tories were to lose two elections that year. A challenge to Ted Heath’s leadership, probably from Keith Joseph, already looked inevitable. How would the Telegraph lean? Green himself was a premature Thatcherite who as early as 1973 told friends

Samantha Weinberg

Climate camp: next year we’ll go for longer

It is 11 p.m. on Saturday night and I am way out of my comfort zone. With my husband, two young children and dog, I have spent the day with 1,300 climate campaigners, none of whom I knew before, in a sodden field near Heathrow’s second runway. Now the five of us are squeezed into a three-man tent, rain seeping through the sides, listening to the roar of planes taking off and landing. It’s not exactly summer camp. And yet I feel strangely elated. The irony is that we nearly didn’t come to climate camp — because of the weather. At home in Wiltshire on Saturday morning, with a nice

Paul Johnson

Visiting cathedrals? Here are England’s top ten

Recently a friend from abroad, anxious to enrich himself from our past, asked me about the cathedrals. Which must he visit, which should he visit if he had time? These are not easy questions. Many years ago I wrote a book about British cathedrals and was surprised to discover how many of them there are, if you spread the net wide enough. And also how varied they are, much more so than comparable buildings on the Continent. Our individualism turns each of them into something unique. Indeed, one of the oldest and most splendid of them, Westminster Abbey, is actually a ‘royal peculiar’. Founded, renewed and adorned by kings, it

Lucy Vickery

Blond ambition

In Competition No. 2508 you were invited to submit an acrostic poem in support of Boris Johnson’s bid to become Mayor of London, in which the first letters of each line spell out BORIS FOR MAYOR. In Competition No. 2508 you were invited to submit an acrostic poem in support of Boris Johnson’s bid to become Mayor of London, in which the first letters of each line spell out BORIS FOR MAYOR. There was an avalanche of entries of a variable standard. Predictably, Boris’s flaxen locks featured strongly — as did his mighty intellect. Equally celebrated were his plain speaking and joie de vivre, many of you echoing D.J. Taylor,

Friday

The Spectator

An opportunity to fix the broken society

When trying to understand the impact of events like the shooting of Rhys Jones, turn to the tabloids. Their readers are the ones who suffer from the “broken society” and are most at risk from the violent crime epidemic and think “it could be my son next”. The Sun is at its best today. It declares in a superb page long editorial that this is the time for a fundamental rethink. In the Daily Mail, Iain Duncan Smith provides a compelling analysis. Social breakdown, the putrid oases of deprivation in a booming Britain, has been nurtured by Labour policies. The Sun is using David Cameron’s phrase “anarchy in the UK” to