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How I made Tyler, the Creator uncool

I tried getting my husband to go with me, but wild horses wouldn’t have dragged him so I forced a friend’s son to come instead. I’m talking about going to see Tyler, The Creator at the O2. That’s Tyler, The Creator, the magnificent hip hop artist who was banned from the UK in 2015 by then Home Secretary Theresa May on the grounds of supporting homophobia and acts of terrorism.  What, you’ve never heard of him? Well, that’s clearly because you are not as down with the kids as me. I may be a middle-class boomer from Chiswick but I’m also a raging hip hop fan and I know my

The cheapening of the Chelsea Flower Show

‘I have died and gone to heaven,’ the gentle-faced, fortysomething American beside me murmured into her phone. I turned and stared. Too late I remembered the instructions repeated in childhood not to stand with one’s mouth open. But I couldn’t help myself. In the glorious sun at Chelsea Flower Show, I – unlike my neighbour – felt like I had died and gone to hell. Tuesday morning at Chelsea Flower Show is among life’s rare treats. At least, it used to be. The whoosh of excitement crossing Royal Hospital Road, where policemen marshalled crowds; the magnetic pull towards the show gardens, where the eye was dazzled by loveliness; inside the

Wagers for Haydock and The Curragh

Astute Scottish trainer Jim Goldie cannot hide his admiration for his five-year-old sprinter AMERICAN AFFAIR, who runs at Haydock tomorrow in the Group 2 Betfred Temple Stakes (3.30 p.m.). Goldie knows a thing or two about decent speedsters having trained the likes of Jack Dexter and Hawkeyethenoo in recent years – the former, in fact, finished second in the Temple Stakes a decade ago. The veteran handler said this week that American Affair was ‘very exciting’ and up there with the best sprinters he had trained which is why Goldie has given his stable star an entry in the King Charles III Stakes at Royal Ascot next month. American Affair

Britain has lost the plot over Peppa Pig

We’ve been through a lot as a nation over the past few years. Watching politicians debate scotch eggs, finding out (without wanting to) how Prince Harry lost his virginity, Just Stop Oil’s tomato soup tantrums… so sometimes an event arises that makes you ask yourself: has this all taken a larger toll than we realised on our collective psyche? Are we, in fact, having some kind of national nervous breakdown?  The answer would appear to be a big, fat, pig-shaped yes, given the ‘breaking news’ announcement on ITV’s Good Morning Britain this week that Peppa Pig matriarch Mummy Pig had given birth to her third piglet, Evie. Peppa Pig is the hugely popular children’s TV programme

The peculiar tale of the ‘internet babies’

They already had four children, four cats, four dogs, a number of horses and a pet pig called Philip. But for Alan and Judith Kilshaw, this wasn’t enough. When IVF failed, they decided to try to adopt another child. What happened next would lead to them being pursued by the FBI, as well as a media frenzy, a fraught transcontinental legal dispute and international notoriety. In the spring of 2000, they were simply an eccentric couple living in obscurity in a ramshackle farmhouse with their children and menagerie in the small town of Buckley, north Wales. Unable to conceive again, even with medical assistance, the Kilshaws began looking into the

Wigan’s pies are grotesque and glorious

Fancy a slappy? It’s not what you think – unless you’re from Wigan, in which case you’ll know exactly what I’m offering. A slappy, otherwise known as a ‘Wigan Kebab’, is a whole pie served inside a sliced barm cake (not cake, but a soft, sweetish bread roll). Wiganers are known as ‘pie eaters’. I don’t mind a slice of mince and onion or chicken and leek every now and again, preferably in winter – but I certainly couldn’t imagine indulging on a regular basis. But if I am to eat pie, it should be in Wigan. Don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely no way I would travel to

The wild optimism of a young society

There’s a strange, near-psychedelic effect that hits you when you travel from an ageing country to a young one. It’s not in the buildings – although the buildings may be new and hastily tiled – and it’s not necessarily in the politics, culture or economic vibe. No, the shock is more human, and intimate. It is in the faces. And the noise. And the nappies. I’ve just returned from a few weeks in Central Asia: Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan. And while these nations differ in history, ethnicity and landscapes, two things bind them all. First, they all have an inexplicable penchant for a stodgy rice dish called plov (in Samarkand I

Julie Burchill

Do cyclists know how hated they are?

Cyclists. I’ve become a tolerant cove in my old age but if there’s one word certain to raise my dander, it’s cyclists. In Brighton they think they own the place, enabled by successive stupid councils, who have spent tens of thousands of pounds on cycle lanes and those eyesore e-bikes all over town. With a murderous version of droit de seigneur – at odds with their right-on, self-righteous self-image – cyclists appear to believe that walkers are a lower order who they are free to run over as they please. Cyclists in Brighton seem particularly fond of riding on pavements, where the most damage can be done. It’s like they

Stationery is quietly making a comeback

All of a sudden, our local stationery shop – the Write Stuff – has grown a shelf labelled ‘Letter Writing & Correspondence: Original Crown Mill’. And there, in ranks, are pads of beautiful writing paper – vellum and laid, cream or white, A4 or A5 – plus boxed writing sets, decorated top and bottom with flowers and/or butterflies. All with colourful envelopes to match. ‘Goodness!’ I said to Antonia, who owns the shop. ‘Who is writing letters these days?’ ‘The young,’ she said. I was astonished and charmed. Immediately, I bought a pad of Original Crown Mill Laid (Finest quality since 1870) and decided to write to the granddaughter currently