Society

Looking for action

Last week Sharon’s brother makes an announcement. ‘Sharon’s down this weekend. It’s her birthday,’ he says grimly. On Friday night I’m in the pub early and in she walks. She’s wearing a crop top with a glittery number ’69’ on the front. Her boyfriend is expecting her round at his place, she says, pulling her ‘bored and trapped’ face. He’s cooked a meal and got the drugs in and everything, but she can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. What she wants right now is some action. There’s a dark-haired young bloke sat in an alcove with his mates. Sharon fancies this bloke like the clappers. ‘Godboy’ she calls him.

A walk on the wild side

As I wrote last week, there I was in the middle of the South African bush wrapped in a blanket to stave off the cold. Karl, the strapping ranger, had staved off the animals, but there seemed no remission from the biting air. On our way back to the lodge, we saw some rhino immersed in a pool – perhaps in the hope that the water was warmer. Their deep-pink underbellies were about the shade of my freezing hands. The following morning, however, the weather let up. I woke to skies the colour of Anatolian waters. The sun was beating down on the copper earth. At last, I said to

Your Problems Solved | 7 December 2002

Dear Mary… Q. I rarely shoot, since I have always been a hopeless shot. However, I recently went out for a day and was rather pleased to shoot a woodcock. At the end of the day, as the keeper was loading my car, I was surprised to see only pheasants in the boot. ‘What happened to my woodcock?’ I asked. He replied, ‘Oh, Lady X [my hostess] is rather partial to woodcock. She’s kept that back for herself.’ This seemed to me rather unjust, and I wondered if I had been ‘abused’, in today’s parlance. Was I wrong to have assumed that he who shoots it gets it, so to

The greatest Briton

MAN OF THE CENTURY: WINSTON CHURCHILL AND HIS LEGENDby John Ramsden HarperCollins, £25, pp. 652, ISBN 002570343 In January 1965 John Lukacs came from France with his son to attend Churchill’s state funeral. He came, he writes in the contemporary account of his visit, reprinted in this book, in order to say ‘farewell to the spiritual father of many, including myself’. The many included those who queued in the cold to file past his coffin in Westminster Hall. Victory in 1945, they sensed, had been the achievement of the Russian and American armies. What they mourned was the man who restored their self-respect by saving them from the humiliation of

Did a conman help the Blairs buy two flats in Bristol? Yes or no?

Anyone who has ever had breakfast, lunch, dinner or any other meeting with Gordon Brown will know that he gives very little away. Some ministers are known for their bluntness and occasional indiscretions; others may sometimes drink a glass or two more wine than they should, and say things they should perhaps not have. The Iron Chancellor falls into neither category. His complete self-control makes him both formidable and rather unlovable. As has already been reported in the press, on Monday 18 November Mr Brown had breakfast at the Guardian’s offices in Farringdon Road. It is not uncommon for the paper to host such get-togethers with ministers. By the standards

Matthew Parris

‘Bogus’ asylum-seekers are not the problem; it’s the millions of genuine refugees we should worry ab

There has been another huge rise in the numbers of those seeking asylum in this country. That the figure for the last quarter is 20 per cent higher than for the equivalent period in the preceding year is disturbing enough. That it is 11 per cent higher than the preceding quarter suggests that the rate of increase is itself accelerating. When an important topic returns to the news, a columnist may choose between repeating himself and contradicting himself. I see no case for contradicting myself. Twice now for the Times I have written that what is most worrying about rises in the numbers of asylum-seekers is not that some are

The Hunting Bill is insulting and appalling – but it could be worse

Few issues have highlighted the more shameful qualities of the Blair government quite as starkly as hunting: its moral turpitude, instinctive mendacity, fundamental gutlessness, endless dithering, ugly populism and blind conformity to suburban prejudice. Labour MPs who favour a ban feel understandable resentment that after six years no Bill has reached the statute book. Tony Blair lied at least twice while attempting to ingratiate himself with anti-hunting audiences by asserting that he had voted for a ban, when in fact he had done no such thing. Fear of the Countryside Alliance, which has in the last five years produced the two largest demonstrations ever seen on the streets of London,

Speak for England

Dr Rowan Williams, who was this week ceremonially confirmed as Archbishop of Canterbury, becomes leader of a Church which is among the most mis-reported institutions in Britain. To judge from the press, one would think that the Church of England is obsessed by the issue of homosexuality, with women priests another vexatious issue, and has nothing much else to report apart from the odd vicar who absconds with someone else’s wife, these capers and controversies all taking place against a background of headlong and inevitable decline. But while it is certainly the case that an assiduous religious-affairs correspondent can always find some usually more or less obscure figure to offer

‘When artists were just tolerated’

In San Francisco in the late 1970s you could cover the entire modern art gallery scene, both commercial galleries and temporary exhibitions in museums or other public institutions, between a leisurely Saturday breakfast in Sausalito on the far side of Golden Gate Bridge – eggs Benedict and coffee perhaps – and a late lunch in the centre. Anyone who lived in London in the 1930s could have done something similar. Today, Galleries Magazine lists some 250 galleries which spread from Teddington to Hampstead and from Hammersmith to Hoxton. In 1935, there were fewer than a dozen dealers’ galleries focusing on contemporary art and they were all within walking distance of

Portrait of the Week – 30 November 2002

The Fire Brigades Union and employers’ representatives agreed to a deal on a 16 per cent pay rise, in the early hours of the morning on which an eight-day strike was to begin. But the office of Mr John Prescott, the Deputy Prime Minister, said nothing could be done till 9 a.m., and in any case, since no details were available on reformed working practices (called ‘modernisation’ by the government), no commitment to funding the deal could be given. So the strike went ahead and Mr Tony Blair, the Prime Minister, broadcast to the nation, saying, ‘This is a strike they can’t win. It would not be a defeat for

Diary – 30 November 2002

Within an hour of returning to the Commons after a sabbatical tour of ex-British South Asia I find myself plunged into the firefighters’ strike. The Blairites have long been envious of the glass-jawed opponents who queued up to be walloped by Mrs Thatcher. But during Monday’s Downing Street press conference the Prime Minister modestly disavowed the Sun’s belligerent claim that he wants to ‘do a Maggie’ on the FBU. There’s no need really; he is as evidently a conciliator as she was a warrior. It suits the milder temper of the times, despite the media’s frantic demands for victory by tea-time. Warrior Winston would not have lasted long enough to

Your Problems Solved | 30 November 2002

Dear Mary… Q. I am a hereditary peer. I am also in the auctioneering business and my work takes me to the United States, where confusion frequently arises over my Christian name. What is the most tactful way for me to correct those who have misunderstood the details on my business card and assume that my parents actually chose the name ‘Lord’ rather than it being thrust upon me, as it were?Name and address withheld A. Let us assume that you are Lord Blunderbuss and that your true Christian name is ‘Peregrine’. The very first time the misunderstanding is confirmed – when, for instance, someone says, ‘Good to meet you,

Ancient and Modern – 30 November 2002

What a fuss everyone is getting into about the funding of universities! If ministers would only sit back with their Aristotle and Plato and think about results, all would become clear. Aristotle is very keen on the telos – the goal or end of things – and when he discusses the state, he decides its telos is ‘the sharing by households and families in the good life, for the purpose of a complete and self-sufficient life’. This result being of supreme importance, state control over education is required. As he says in his Politics, ‘Since the whole city has one goal, it is evident that there must also be one

Wild times

The tiny propeller plane that seemed to be made from beaten tin dipped and shuddered in the air. One of the girls opposite me turned the colour of vegetable bouillon. The pilot briskly apologised for the turbulence which he attributed to heavy clouds and the unsettled weather, unusual for this time of year in South Africa. His confident manner was belied by the small tremor in his voice. We were, if God permitted, on our way to a game reserve called Ulusaba. It is one and a half hours (by tin plane) north of Johannesburg and owned by Richard Branson. I had never been to a game reserve before. But

Why does Downing Street encourage Dirty Des? Because he threatens the Daily Mail

One of Richard Desmond’s heroes is Rupert Murdoch, who was profiled in glowing terms in the most recent Sunday Express. The proprietor of the Express group regards the Australian-born adventurer as an outsider like himself. In fact, Desmond is far more of an outsider than Murdoch. His fortune is based on his pornographic magazines and television channels, some of which by my definition are hard-core. By comparison Murdoch – Oxford-educated, son of Sir Keith – is almost out of the top drawer. But Murdoch’s Sun did take on and topple the established Daily Mirror, introducing a new brand of popular journalism including ‘Page Three girls’. Desmond hopes to work a

Poor, proud Prescott will soon be hauled off to the knacker’s yard

The origins of government mishandling of the firefighters’ strike are to be found in the immediate aftermath of the general election in June last year, when Tony Blair failed to sack John Prescott. The Deputy Prime Minister had proved a strikingly incompetent transport secretary during the 1997-2001 Parliament. Commuters are suffering the consequences today. Prescott could easily have been farmed out to the backbenches: his infamous slugging match with a Welsh farm-worker during the election campaign gave an additional excuse. Some of the Prime Minister’s advisers wanted Prescott out, but in the end Tony Blair lacked the courage to make a clean break. It may well be that Gordon Brown

Ross Clark

Banned Wagon | 30 November 2002

Christmas shoppers are being urged to boycott the clothes store Gap on the basis that it exploits workers in the Third World. A report in the Guardian quotes a Bangladeshi who says she has her ears pulled when she makes mistakes, and a wretch from Lesotho who complains that his factory is so dusty that when he blows his nose his snot comes out the same shade of blue as the T-shirts he is making. What the report doesn’t say is that the organisation demanding the boycott, Unite, is a trade union which represents American textile workers, not their brethren in the Third World. For years Unite has campaigned against

The Empire strikes back

Ten years ago, Bristol council were apparently thinking of demolishing the building which now houses the newly opened British Empire and Commonwealth Museum. This would have been a great pity, for it was designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel as part of the world’s first purpose-built railway terminus – Bristol Temple Meads (completed 1841). And the new museum fits into the renovated Grade I listed building rather snugly, with enough room for a temporary exhibitions gallery on the top floor. In the basement, the education rooms lead directly out of the cafZ, so it’s difficult to escape the hordes of schoolchildren, though they genuinely seem to enjoy the displays – especially