Society

Saturday

Lucy Vickery

Playing God

In Competition 2495 you were invited to submit a poem establishing the principles of a new religion. This competition was inspired by Larkin’s ‘Water’: My liturgy would employImages of sousing,A furious devout drench… A lot of entries were slightly gloomy satire recommending the twin creeds of selfishness and shopping. Commendations to Barbara Smoker and G.M. Davis, and to Moyra Blyth for her paean to the carrot, but the winning poems are printed below. The prizewinners each receive £30, and the bonus fiver goes to D.A. Prince. My faithful ones, our principles must beBoth carbon-neutral and pure, GM-free.No living creature should be harmed (though germsMay be exempted, as any gastric worms).As

Frank Keating

The boy wonder

Fasten your ear-muffs for a deafening weekend — din and dissonance, vrooms and fumes. Around Silverstone, lock up your dogs and daughters while the leaning, leather-clad boy racers sort out the British leg of the world motorcycling championship. Down on the Riviera, the straw-bales and (what we used to call) the starlets are in place for Monaco’s round-the-houses Grand Prix on Sunday, while across the pond in Indiana the world’s largest annual sporting throng has gathered for the always hairy-scary Indianapolis 500. Brits ignore most all-American sports; at home, as well, motor-cycling coverage is pretty well blanked by the mainstream backpages, though it strikes me as a more genuine sport than

Simon Nixon

A very expensive drop of Scotch

Driving through the pretty towns of Speyside, as I did last week, it’s hard to believe you’re at the centre of a booming global industry. As the road follows the course of the river into the Highlands, you can spot the chimneys of the distilleries every few miles. But they’re mostly small-scale and they still retain the look and feel of a cottage industry. At the picturesque Strathisla near Keith, with its traditional pagoda-style malting towers, pretty girls in kilts greet you at the visitor centre. At Glenlivet, I was given a guided tour by a former excise man whose job it once was to police the distillery. There’s tartan

Martin Vander Weyer Martin Vander Weyer

Hot tips in the World Bank stakes: Blair, Bono, Clarkson …but not me

Shortly after the death of John Paul II in 2005, the wise and amiable Father Dominic Milroy, former prior of the Benedictine college in Rome, leant across a dinner table and said, ‘Martin, you’d make a good candidate for Pope.’ ‘But father,’ I protested, ‘I’m not even a Catholic.’ ‘Oh don’t worry,’ he responded, ‘We can soon see about that.’ Likewise I’m glad to discover that not holding a US passport does not rule me out as a candidate to succeed Paul Wolfowitz as president of the World Bank when he departs next month, so long as I’m prepared to convert: his predecessor, Australian-born James Wolfensohn, took American citizenship in

Paul Johnson

Why we don’t know who killed Cock Robin

That fierce neighbouring cat, which has killed or scared off our mice, has not yet destroyed our robin. Cats do not enjoy eating robins. If they do so by mistake, they vomit. But that does not stop them attacking the birds for sport. We think of robins as very tame, and they are — in England. In the past we killed them for various purposes. In the 17th century robins (and sparrows) were eaten to break up kidney stones, for which a surgical operation, in those days, was dangerous if not impossible. If the surgeon was not swift and skilful enough to get the stone out within 20 minutes, the

Boris Johnson

The pursuit of happiness

You’ve got to realise they would have done it. They would have gone right ahead and swept another priceless heirloom from the mantelpiece of history. They were revving up their bulldozers, ready to roar into the ancient and irreplaceable ecosystem. Another great tree would have been felled in the forest of knowledge, and the owl of Minerva would have fled in terror from her roost. Had it not been for a few romantic reactionaries, then the technicians who run our reductionist system of education — with the complaisance of the Labour government — would by now be halfway to the demolition of the ancient history A-Level. The children of tomorrow,

Greg Clark

The only way is up

Whatever happened to social mobility? One of the most disturbing themes to emerge from the grammar schools debate and the current rash of Blair retrospectives is the discovery that even under a supposedly progressive Prime Minister, our society is holding too many people back rather than propelling them forward. And the reasons behind this reveal many deep-seated differences between the thinking of Cameron’s Conservatives and that of Brown’s Labour party. Social mobility is falling. Someone born into the poorest quarter of society 50 years ago had a greater chance of working their way up to a higher economic group than a young person today. And it’s getting worse. We have

Iain Johnstone

Happy birthday John Wayne

Iain Johnstone celebrates the centenary of the ‘Duke’ and recalls a memorable holiday off the Mexican coast with the toupee-less Hollywood legend Had he lived, John Wayne would have been 100 on Saturday. I knew him. In the spring of 1976 he invited me to go on holiday with him on the Wild Goose, his converted minesweeper. The plan was to cruise up the Pacific coast of Mexico. He told me to go to the Acapulco Hilton and he would call me when the ship was ready to sail. It was a heady time in Acapulco: Howard Hughes, who had been bed-ridden in the penthouse of the Princess Hotel, was

Friday

The Spectator

Weekend Wisdom

“A man’s first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his heart; his next, to escape the censures of the world.” Joseph Addison, The Spectator, July 20, 1711

The Spectator

Keep Trafalgar Square Green

  When I heard that they had covered Trafalgar Square in grass my reaction was that it was a ghastly gimmick. But having seen it, I’ve got to admit that it looks fantastic. Even though the weather hasn’t been the best in London these past few days, it has created the best type of summer-time ambience: think university once exams are over. Sadly, they’re getting rid of the turf tomorrow. But they really should keep the new look for the summer. After all, the London Eye was only meant to be a temporary structure and its now a beloved part of the Westminster skyline. 

Tamzin Lightwater

My first bike

Have put my name down for a Team Cameron bicycle! If I don’t get one am going to see if I can get a slogan painted on the side of my Smart car. “I ♥ Dave”, “Proud to be Dave’s Babe”, “Grammar Schools are So Yesterday”. That sort of thing. Do feel bit sorry for Mr Maude though, especially with the new lycra requirement. Also I hope they are getting the bikes from somewhere reliable. Jed’s bike is always getting something called “puncture problems” – holes in the tyres, I think – so he has to get taxis all the time which makes him very miserable. If I do get

Sarah Standing

Rising Stars

I urge you to go and visit the eagerly-awaited exhibition of emerging new London artists “Anticipation”.  Curated by Kay Saatchi and Catriona Warren it is cutting-edge without being remotely obtuse or silly. I went to the preview and initially feared most of my anticipation was going to be taken up struggling to actually get in – there were so many people desperate to get first dibbs at the reasonably priced exhibits they had to ration entry. On until 9th June at One on One Gallery, 111 Great Titchfield Street, London W1 6RY 0207-969-3958 

Sarah Standing

Home alone | 25 May 2007

Depressing thought of the day. A recent survey claims we turn into technical incompetents by the time we’re 42, becoming increasingly reliant on our children for understanding and guidance in operating gizmos and gadgets. Sadly this is true in our household. Whenever the kids go away, the parental mice can no longer play with anything. Through habit we have become totally co-dependant on them. They are our enablers. Even simple cut-and-pasting is a hit-and-miss affair often resulting in frantic phone calls dragging one or other of the kids back to help. The wrong television programmes get recorded, the oven timer beeps when it shouldn’t, every photograph taken is riddled with

Thursday

Martin Vander Weyer Martin Vander Weyer

Expect some market turbulence

In my Any Other Business column in the magazine this week I warn that the overheating of the Shanghai stock market looks highly likely to lead to a local crash – swiftly followed by a wobble on major western markets. Though I’m not expecting the wobble to be a catastrophic one, I find myself moving towards the gloomier end of the spectrum of my usual don’t-panic-it’ll-be-all-right view of stock market behaviour. Two items in today’s Daily Telegraph reinforce this. First, the ex Fed chairman Alan Greenspan says the Shanghai bubble is ‘clearly unsustainable’ and points towards ‘a dramatic contraction at some point’ – which by his standards of impenetrably oblique

The Spectator

Who needs Iowa?

Thirteen of the last fourteen nominees from the two major US parties have won the first primary  state of Iowa. The odd one out? A certain Bill Clinton in 1992, who only won 3% of the Iowa vote, to Iowa local Tom Harkin’s 76%. The Hillary campaign have now officially rejected  the strategy of “skipping” Iowa, and she is headed there this weekend to do damage repairs. But let’s not say the strategy shows panic – a Clinton did it without Iowa before, and they could do it again. (As it happens Barack Obama appears to be considering skipping the state, having missed some crucial Iowa events and spending a

Wednesday

The Spectator

Is Hillary’s camp in a panic?

If you want to know how much the race for the Democratic presidential nomination has changed since people thought that Hillary just had to turn up to win, read this story about how Team Clinton is contemplating skipping the first contest of the season in Iowa. The strategy actually makes some sense given Hillary’s relative weakness there compared to other states. But the fact her campaign is thinking of roundabout ways to win the nomination shows that the inevitability myth has been well and truly punctured. 

The Spectator

Reading aloud

A hot, hot night in a Portobello Road boookshop for a poetry reading (see my earlier post) hosted by the excellent Pass on a Poem and Oxfam, in aid of Darfur and Chad. As I stand up to read “The Day He Died” by Ted Hughes, I notice Saffron Burrows sitting in the back row of the audience. Just another night in Notting Hill, I guess. I manage to get through without fluffing my lines, I think. Then it’s over to the real talent. Our own Rachel Johnson reveals that (in addition to all her other talents) she has a beautiful speaking voice, reading Auden’s Epitaph on a Tyrant with

The Spectator

Groups of New York?

According to the Youth Justice Board, most teenage “gangs” should be referred to less abrasively as “groups”. Which makes me think how very different Martin Scorsese’s movie would have been if it had been called Groups of New York. I doubt Goodfellas would have made such an impact if it had begun with the line: “As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a group member.” And, somehow, “group rap” – or perhaps “group rhyming partnership initiatives” – doesn’t sound quite as snappy as “gangsta rap”. Still, next time you see a bunch of hoodies menacingly huddled on your street corner, you can rest assured: they’re