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Today

James Innes-Smith

Radiohead are joyless

Last week a Radiohead-head friend offered me a ticket for the last of their run of shows at London’s O2 Arena. The poor, deluded fool had paid several hundred quid and was looking to recoup. I politely declined, saying I would rather suffer from decompression sickness. My friend was not amused – but then that’s Radiohead fans for you; liking the band is a serious business. The band is currently on a mega tour of Europe and the reviews have been mixed. Some fans complain about the relentless flashing imagery, while others have pointed out that hanging gauze curtains around a circular stage might not be the best way to

Yesterday

Penworthy

Five bets for Newbury’s superb two-day meeting

Trainers Harry Derham and Emma Lavelle will almost certainly leave their mark at Newbury over the next two days. Whereas Britain’s most successful trainers target the Cheltenham Festival in March with their elite horses, this talented pair are more realistic and aim their best horses at this two-day meeting. For both handlers it is their local track, prize money is good and the racecourse is fair to horses so there are plenty of reasons for wanting to single out the meeting. The problem from a punting point of view is which of their horses to back. Derham is due to have six runners over the two days, while Lavelle is

Arabella Byrne

The Mansion Tax trap

All I seem to do these days is stand in the school car park having anguished, if largely pointless chats: the Mansion Tax chat. But let’s call it the Mansion Tax Mumble, since none of us seem willing to disclose the actual sum we paid for our houses. Soon we may not have to, since if your house is worth more than £2 million it will become perfectly obvious: you may never move again. It may even become the ultimate status symbol. Anyone planning to sell a house at £2.1 or 2.2 million will have to forget it since no estate agent will bother; no viewings, no clicks, no calls.

Rob Crossan

So what if Nigel Farage was the school bully?

There may well be, somewhere in this nation of ours, a long-established succession of sensitive, emotionally aware 14-year-olds who can appreciate and denounce the impact of bullying. But, honestly, none of them went to my school.  It doesn’t sound like there were many of this cadre at Dulwich College half a century ago either. At least, not if we believe the recent Guardian ‘scoop’ which claims, thanks to the testimony of Nigel Farage’s fellow pupils (much of which was made public years ago), that the Reform leader was a racist, hate-fuelled youth who taunted anyone of a different faith or ethnicity. It all sounds pretty familiar to me, though my

Wednesday

The Spectator

The Spectator’s post-Budget briefing

Watch The Spectator panel discuss the autumn Budget tonight via livestream. Stephanie Flanders, head of economics and politics at Bloomberg will be joining The Spectator’s editor Michael Gove, political editor Tim Shipman, economics editor Michael Simmons and John Porteous, Charles Stanley’s managing director of central financial services and chief client officer, to give you an insider’s take on the autumn Budget, just hours after it is announced. As the cost of Britain’s debt soars, Rachel Reeves faces tough choices about the nation’s finances. With backbenchers allergic to spending cuts and the tax burden already at a post-war high, her options are shrinking fast. Will she take bold action to tackle Britain’s structural problems and ignite growth – or

Graham Boynton

Did the Aussies cheat?

My friend Allan Lamb calls me a ‘cricket tragic’, a back-handed compliment from a former English international cricketer. So the prospect of flying out to Australia and watching the first Ashes Test in Perth was too seductive to ignore. I knew pretty early on that the cost was going to be exorbitant. A gruelling 24-hour flight – and therefore serious jet lag – meant that either a premium economy or a business-class airfare was necessary. But as this was a bucket-list moment I indulged in the latter. Then hotel prices during an Ashes Test were inevitably ramped up and six nights at an ordinary inner-city hotel ended up costing twice

Arabella Byrne

Labour’s eco-towns threaten our heritage

‘He leaped the fence, and saw that all nature was a garden’. So goes the famous Horace Walpole quote about William Kent, the 18th-century landscape designer who saw the garden and its surrounding views as single and unified. Were he alive today, Kent might very soon leap over the ha-ha he designed at the Grade I-listed Rousham House in Oxfordshire and tumble head-first into one of Labour’s new eco-town developments. His breeches rumpled, Kent might observe with some sadness that the coherence of his design is no more. Built in 1635 by Sir Robert Dormer, Rousham continues to be occupied by his descendants Charles and Angela Cottrell-Dormer. Unlike your standard

Tuesday

Ross Clark Ross Clark

Do supermarkets really make us sick?

I contemplated this piece over a bowl of porridge; not a ready-mix concoction but the raw stuff: porridge oats mixed with milk and water and eaten without any adornment whatsoever. That will win me brownie points among many nutritionists and policymakers because I was not eating an ‘ultra-processed food’ (UPF). I have a gut feeling that raw porridge is more nutritious and less full of nasty stuff. It is also much cheaper. A few years ago, while I was on a walking holiday with my son, I pointed out to him – not least because he was about to go off to university and could do with a bit of

Zoe Strimpel

When did bakeries develop literary pretensions?

I became sick of bakeries when I lived in Berlin. I alternated between a few of them, doing most of my work in a café-bakery in the then-trendy Neukölln district amid other somewhat directionless snackers and typers. After a while, I felt that commercial premises hawking cakes, pastries and cookies were no place for the would-be scholar, as I then was. I began to feel grossed out by other people’s crumbs under my laptop, depressed by the pressure, partly caused by my own boredom, to keep ordering and paying for cake and coffees. Eating cake began to seem antithetical to serious work, not its handmaiden. Eventually I discovered the charms

Monday

Alec Marsh

How to save the King’s English

When a survey of 10,000 teachers revealed this month that Britain’s primary school pupils are increasingly relying on Americanisms (the Times front page declared ‘Trash-talking children are sounding like Americans’) I realised immediately what we needed. Rex Harrison. And if not Rex Harrison himself, then a dose of arguably his greatest role – that of Henry Higgins, the cantankerous professor of phonetics who first burst into the national consciousness in 1914 with the London premiere of Pygmalion. Alas, more than 100 years on, the essential truths in George Bernard Shaw’s now near unperformable play about the dire social harm caused by entrenched illiteracy and its consequences on speech (upon which,