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Julie Burchill

Advent calendars are becoming offensively showy

Each year in the charity shop where I volunteer, the Christmas cards arrive in August; by September, they must be on the shelves. We’re a small shop and space is precious; shoes and bags which would make us a healthy profit are swept aside for half-hearted etchings of mardy robins. But at least it’s in aid of charity, and thus in keeping with the spirit of the season – even if Christmas is still almost a third of a year away.   Even more distasteful are the bastardisations of the advent calendar available to those with terminally shallow lives and more money than sense There’s a grim humour in the way

In defence of the office romance

In the wake of Philip Schofield’s ‘unwise but not illegal’ relationship with a much younger employee, ITV have issued a new policy. It requires staff members to declare the names of their ‘associates’ and the ‘nature of their relationships’ on a Google Forms questionnaire. This is frankly a pathetic attempt to stamp out abuses of power in the workplace. And it risks killing off something I feel quite strongly about: the office romance. We must protect that at all costs.  Elon Musk discourages employees from being friendly with each other as he believes ‘comradery is dangerous’ Bores think that romantic office relationships are unprofessional. In fact, they are entirely healthy

My terrible evening on a stand-up comedy course

A few years ago, I abandoned a five-year counselling course after just 40 minutes. Apparently, I couldn’t have a refund from the community college but could transfer to another course. I may have a writer’s fascination with finding things out but I have a strange aversion to being taught. Looking at the long list of courses available to me, all I could see were things I didn’t want to be taught. Computerised Accounts and Book Keeping, Burlesque Dancing and The Art of the Burgundian Netherlands. I wasn’t looking for a hobby and there was barely anything on that list that came close to piquing my interest.  A more unprepossessing bunch of

Among the Glastonbury pagans

England is a mystical place, and its epicentre is Glastonbury, known by its pagan residents as Avalon, the mythical island of the Arthurian legend. It has sacred springs, the supposed tomb of King Arthur, the Tor and ruined tower, proximity to Stonehenge and now a thriving, sprawling community of pagans, with dozens of denominations from druid to water-witch. Once dismissible as mere woo-woo fringe, paganism has become a religious force that demands serious consideration for the simple fact that it is the fastest-growing religion in Britain. In the 2021 Census, 74,000 people in the UK referred to themselves as pagans, up from 57,000 in 2011, with a further 13,000 people calling themselves Wicca. But this

James Heale

Life behind bars: so long to Westminster’s favourite landlord

If you work in politics, chances are you have drunk in the Westminster Arms. Located just off Parliament Square, every night it hosts the collection of hacks, wonks and mandarins that comprise the SW1 bubble. For 30 years, Gerry Dolan has run the pub with his mix of Irish humour and no-nonsense determination. When we meet, three days before his retirement, his roving eyes still flick up every time to scan each new patron that enters his beloved bar. ‘I have loved the Westminster Arms. It’s been a great mistress’ he says. ‘My wife ran the wine bar downstairs, and she probably worked harder than I did. I was like

Melanie McDonagh

How to make Irish barm brack

Those of us who grew up with a traditional Halloween, that is to say, in Ireland, don’t have much truck with the contemporary version. The pumpkin-coloured, gore and chocolate fest that has come to Britain via the US is gross by comparison; we had a simple version. We dressed up, but in masks and any old clothes we could lay our hands on. We had nuts and apples for bobbing, not chocolate in the shape of severed fingers. We went from house to house looking for a penny for the bobbin’, not trick or treating. And the thing you really looked forward to was barm brack. Halloween was a time

Julie Burchill

Sam Smith, please put it away

Undressing. Getting one’s kit off, whether for the lads or the ladies, depending on one’s bent. Disrobing, divesting, denuding. Slipping into something more comfortable. Giving one an eyeful. Getting ‘em off. Once we put away childish things and cease frolicking as nature intended, stripping off becomes a whole new ballgame. In our newly found state of youthful beauty, we may discover that flashing a bit of what one’s momma gave one can evoke a level of interest in others which one’s callow utterances cannot quite manage. If big-bodied nobodies are stripping off for strangers, how could we expect entertainers to keep their kit on? But equally, it’s important to know

The forgotten genius of Dennis Price

This month marks the 50th anniversary of the sad death of the actor Dennis Price, star of the classic 1949 black comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets, regarded by many to be the greatest British film of all time. Price was only 58 when he died from cirrhosis of the liver and complications following a broken hip, in a public ward of Guernsey’s main hospital. In the same way his co-star Alec Guinness stole the limelight in Kind Hearts, so the shock break-out of the Arab-Israeli Yom Kippur war did the same on the day of his death. His debts caused him to ‘beat a strategic retreat’ to the Channel Islands

Britain’s most haunted country houses

For centuries, the English country house has provided the setting for some of the most terrifying fiction in our history. These isolated buildings, with their many empty corridors, secret backstairs, shut-up attic rooms and dark corners, their inherent eeriness has made them iconic settings for chilling encounters. But which real country houses inspired their fictional counterparts? Menabilly House, Cornwall Daphne Du Maurier’s mysterious Manderley was inspired by two country houses. The exterior was based on Menabilly House in Cornwall, an estate which Du Maurier would eventually rent from the Rashleigh family five years after Rebecca’s release, while the interior was inspired by Milton Hall in Cambridgeshire. Du Maurier’s haunting description

The beautiful sadness of Matthew Perry

Matthew Perry, who died yesterday, was the funniest of the Friends – and the saddest. ‘What must it be like to not be crippled by fear and self-loathing?’ his character, Chandler Bing, asked. It seems Perry never quite figured out the answer. Chandler was a brilliant comic creation – and Perry, a melancholic clown, perfectly suited to the part. Perry stood out among his Friends castmates with his impeccable comic timing and the unique cadence with which he delivered his lines.  To most of the world, he will always be Chandler – the brilliant, charming, sad-funny clown But he was insecure and addictive. Perry once said that, when the live studio

Tips for Doncaster and Newbury tomorrow

I have a policy of not betting or tipping on jump racing until at least the first week of November. That’s because the early season form over chases and hurdles is so difficult to predict in that it is hard to know which horses are fit from their summer break and which are not. Having said that, there is no doubt that the jumps cards at Cheltenham and Kelso tomorrow excite me far more than anything offered up on the level by Doncaster or Newbury. Yet, I will nevertheless stick to my self-imposed punting rules. If this race was run every Saturday for a year, there would be a different

Gareth Roberts

My favourite, ferocious teacher

In 1979, I was 11 years old, and I had a quite remarkable teacher. Don’t worry, though – this isn’t going to be one of those anodyne paeans to an inspirational educator that the Department for Education use in their ads to lure people into teaching. In fact, if the lady I’ll refer to here as Mrs G were somehow to be reincarnated and placed in front of a Year 6 classroom of today, Ofsted would have her frogmarched out after about 20 minutes.  She once sent me to the local parade of shops to buy a box of Tampax  Mrs G was a fearsome sight – in her late

Sofia Coppola made girls sad

When Cecilia Lisbon, the youngest of the five Lisbon daughters in Sofia Coppola’s film The Virgin Suicides, winds up in the hospital having survived an attempt on her own life, the doctor tells her: ‘You’re not even old enough to know how bad life gets.’ ‘Obviously, doctor,’ Cecilia replies, ‘you’ve never been a 13-year-old girl.’ The dark edge of adolescence runs through Sofia Coppola’s films. You get a sense from even the most playful and romantic scenes that, behind the lustre of expensive clothes or dappled sunlight, girlhood is tragic and that its transformations are traumatic. Coppola’s eye for these contrasts makes her films brilliant. It also, whether she intends

Olivia Potts

Dark, bold and perfect for autumn: how to make the perfect honey cake

I did not plan to cook a loaf cake when I embarked on concocting a traditional honey cake recipe. The original plan was to explore the Russian honey cake, or medovik, which dates back to the 19th century, and has a rich history. It is the War and Peace of the cake world: thick and a real undertaking. A long, careful assembly process, with up to a dozen layers of thin sponge – flavoured with honey and baked ever so briefly – interleaved with honey-flavoured buttercream, followed by a long chill, and then covered in more buttercream and cake crumbs. It is what we cookery writers like to euphemistically call