Society

From Ruth Davidson Q. My mother often tells me that I look scruffy. What’s the appropriate dress for a leader of the Scottish Conservative Party? A. Your mother should relax. Your own spontaneously evolved style speaks so eloquently of egolessness that it is of wide appeal to your fan base. This is an extract from Dear Mary’s Celebrity Problems Solved, which appears in the Christmas issue of the Spectator

The doctrine of progress implies that things get better. This is clearly true in terms of scientific knowledge, though not necessarily of how that scientific knowledge is applied. It has proved broadly true, in our lifetimes, about economic and political freedom, though not so decisively that we can all sit back and relax. Is it also true of virtue? We often praise ourselves for having cast aside prejudice, taboo, imperialism, sexism and so on, but can we truthfully say that we are, on average, morally better people than our ancestors? We might simply be blind to different things. It is not difficult to make a list of virtues that are

We’re closing 2017 by republishing our twelve most-read articles of the year. Here’s No. 5: Qanta Ahmed on the strange, unwitting collaboration between liberals and extremists: I was raised as an observant Muslim in a British family. Women, I was taught, determine their own conduct — including their ‘veiling’. We’d cover our hair only if we freely chose to do so. That’s why I’m baffled by the notion that all good Muslim women should cover their hair or face. My entire family are puzzled by it too, as are millions like us. Not until recent years has the idea taken root that Muslim women are obliged by their faith to wear

Each Boxing Day my mother would take out her pen and pad, And estimate the cost price of those Christmas gifts we’d had, From relatives and family friends. And when the sum fell short, Of the monetary value for the various gifts she’d bought, She’d write it in her ledger. Underlined in red. So, Aunty Bertha, Mrs Bridges – to my mum, they were now dead. ‘A pair of socks for twenty pence! A slinky half as dear! I’ll tell you this for nothing, son – they’re getting nowt next year. I bought that cow some Matchmakers, not just mint, but orange too And all I have is ankle socks

In Dumas’ great novel, The Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantès was condemned to life imprisonment in the notorious Chateau d’If, a lonely tower off the French coast, plus an annual flogging. The human mind being what it is he couldn’t sit peacefully enjoying his sea view. Instead his anxious thoughts continually anticipated the pain to come. It isn’t clear in which month he was whipped but it seems likely that he was probably worrying about it for at least three months in advance. I know how he feels: in much the same way, I am among those who start losing sleep about Christmas Day in mid-October. No one could

I’ve seen a few spectres in my life, the most recent last year, just before New Year’s Eve. We were invited to stay with some friends in Devon. Recently restored, the house is beautiful. My daughter’s room was the sweetest: just down the corridor from ours. The first night we all slept soundly, replete with food and wine and gossip. On the second night we retired slightly earlier. I awoke at around 2 a.m. Seeing a light flickering, I walked down the corridor to my daughter’s room. She was wide awake, watching a film on my laptop. She too had woken up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I closed

From Jacob Rees-Mogg MP Q. My two eldest sons are becoming quite good at playing the trumpet but when they practise this wakes the baby. Nanny does not approve. I don’t want to discourage them. But we mustn’t upset Nanny. What do you recommend? A. Youthful trumpetry is often a precursor to fame and fortune in other areas. The late Sir Bernard Fergusson (Lord Ballantrae) entitled his memoirs The Trumpet in the Hall. Give Nanny Veronica a harmonica to join in. Let them practise in the wine cellar while she watches baby on a hand-cam. This is an extract from Dear Mary’s Celebrity Problems Solved, which appears in the Christmas

As a child, I had a horror of the idea of Christmas in a hot place. Somebody told me that in Australia they ate roast turkey on the beach. This sounded positively irreligious, and I gave no consideration to the fact that the chief subject of the Christmas story probably never enjoyed a white Christmas himself (though it can be surprisingly cold in the Judaean hills at this time of year). Actually, I never experienced a white Christmas either, on the day itself, though I do remember the evening of Boxing Day 1962 when it began to snow, and didn’t melt till March. The other day, I re-read The Sword

We’re closing 2017 by republishing our twelve most-read articles of the year. Here’s No. 9: Damian Thompson on Pope Francis: On 2 January, the Vatican published a letter from Pope Francis to the world’s bishops in which he reminded them that they must show ‘zero tolerance’ towards child abuse. The next day, the American Week magazine published an article that told the story of ‘Don Mercedes’ — Fr Mauro Inzoli, an Italian priest with a passion for expensive cars and underage boys. In 2012, Pope Benedict stripped Inzoli of his priestly faculties, effectively defrocking him. In 2014, however, they were restored to him — by Pope Francis, who warned him to