Lost his seat
‘It’s all Jacob does since he lost his seat’

‘It’s all Jacob does since he lost his seat’
‘I love American politics, it makes me feel young again.’
‘We want to do our bit to get Britain building.’
‘Tell me more about your time as a member of the proletariat.’
‘It’s all change now, Larry.’
‘That’s Sir Ed Davey’s seat.’
‘Can you identify as women?’
‘Apparently the fat lady sang her heart out on 4 July.’
‘The naughty step now and think about your toxic masculinity.’
‘Our postal votes have arrived.’
Anne Hathaway’s latest film, The Idea of You, has become Amazon’s most-streamed rom com, causing me to reflect that Hollywood’s young man/older woman scenario has changed for the better since The Graduate. Though everyone was mad for it at the time, was there ever a grimmer film about relationships? We’re meant to empathise with the over-privileged, over-grown, over-thinking spoilt brat of a hero – especially when he becomes the ‘prey’ of the much older Mrs Robinson – but that the toy boy is played by the 29-year-old Dustin Hoffman and the cougar by the 35-year-old (and far more attractive) Anne Bancroft merely highlights the misogyny of the enterprise. I used
Ian Chappell, the flinty Australian captain, has said that after giving cricket to the world the English did nothing further to develop the game. That original gift, it might be argued, was a fairly significant bequest, but Chappell could point to postwar history. In his lifetime, cricket has been shaped by Australians, West Indians, and Indians. Oh, the ghastliness of English football! The dim players, detached from the world in their grim mansions It is harder to challenge the view that the English, who codified the laws of Association Football in 1863, have spent the last century resting on their oars. The national team has won the World Cup once,
We are having a glorious July where I live in Poland. There have been pleasantly warm days. The birds are singing. The beer is cool. So, why does a sense of melancholy keep snaking around my consciousness? Well, for various reasons. I can’t claim to be the world’s most cheerful man. But one reason is that we have passed the summer solstice – the longest day of the year. I find myself wondering how on Earth it is July when March feels so recent However warm and bright it is, the days will soon grow colder and darker. The best is behind us. The worst lies ahead. Today we are
I blame Brexit. In the aftermath of the 2016 referendum, when the whole nation was still in the throes of a collective nervous breakdown, I succumbed to the prevailing mood of madness and went on a TV dating programme. No, it wasn’t Naked Attraction, the Channel 4 show in which participants strip down to reveal all to their prospective partners, but a rather more restrained show on the same channel called First Dates. I hadn’t actually even seen the programme when I noticed an ad in The Spectator appealing for single middle-aged people. I chose a Dover sole, which was an error as I was filmed plucking fishbones from my
I’d all but forgotten about David Cameron when he returned as foreign secretary under the last government, and the first thing I remembered about him, when he returned, was his chin. By which I mean its prim absence and how, combined with those thin lips and tiny mouth, more like a fish’s than a person’s, I have always found the man deeply unhandsome in a very Tory way. Starmer is the first prime minister since Tony Blair (sorry) with whom I would happily consider a saucy affair Now we have new leadership, and with it, a new paradigm of attractiveness. David Lammy, the new Foreign Secretary, is even less handsome
The moral absolutist in me believes that in every city, with its finite number of restaurants, there is such a thing as the best of all possible lunches. I don’t have to find it, but I have to get close. Mediocre doesn’t cut it. In fact, on holiday, the idea of wasting a meal on mere ‘mediocre’ fills me with crippling guilt over wasting not just money but time. What if I die before I see Paris again? I would be ashamed that I had wasted my precious mortality eating that Pret tuna niçoise salad. Laurie Lee described Spain as a place of ‘distinct appetites… chivalry, bloodshed, poetry and religious