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Monday

Robin Ashenden

I’m an unhappy shopaholic

When I was a child I had a dream, as most kids do, of entering a toyshop and being told I could carry away with me as much as would fit in a large shopping trolley. In would go every kind of Action Man, every game of Buckaroo or Operation, and enough Star Wars figurines to people a small planet. There would be no discriminating and no sense of moderation – just a great tottering tower of swag. This is to say nothing of the house-arrest constant deliveries impose on you Later though, as I got into my thirties, I took a more spartan approach. I wished for a slimmed

Friday

Nigel Jones

The ugliness of tattoos

Rishi Sunak devoted part of the last day of his doomed premiership to meeting Becky Holt, Britain’s most tattooed mother, on ITV’s This Morning show. Ms Holt was clad in a bikini which revealed much of the 95 per cent of her body surface that is covered in tattoos. After the brief encounter, she told OK magazine that the PM had been ‘really, really polite’ and had merely inquired how much her tattoos had cost. I once had a close encounter with a woman who had her last lover’s birth sign tattooed in a very intimate spot During the 20th century and earlier, British tattoos were largely confined to sailors

Gareth Roberts Gareth Roberts

What happened to the erotic film?

Sexy time at the cinema is becoming a thing of the past. That’s according to research on the prevalence of vices in top live-action films from film maven Stephen Follows. His study shows that drug taking and violence are as popular on screen as ever in the 21st century. Profanity has dipped only slightly, but sex has dropped off a cliff since the year 2000. We used to love what they used to call a steamy blockbuster. I came of age in an era where the ‘erotic thriller’ – 9½ Weeks, Fatal Attraction, Basic Instinct – were the box office draws, in which big stars lost their drawers. Comedies like

Toby Young Toby Young

The joys of Canada by train

There cannot be a lazier way of travelling across Canada than in the Rocky Mountaineer. There are luxury trains, and then there’s this. For two days, I sat in a sumptuously upholstered, air-conditioned carriage, looking out at the vast wilderness of Canada’s interior, as waiters plied me with wine, chocolates and three-course meals. When imagining my trip across the Canadian Rockies, I had envisaged plenty of bracing walks and fresh air. But by the end of my journey, I had gained five-and-a-half pounds. I went on a walk around the frozen lake accompanied by a guide who warned us about a bear known as the Boss who weighs 497lbs Admittedly,

Penworthy

Two ante-post bets from the same stable

It’s impossible not to like and admire Charlie Fellowes: he is one of those people who gives 100 per cent to whatever he sets his mind to. The Newmarket trainer’s enthusiasm for racing and the horses in his care is infectious, and he is always willing to talk to the media about plans for his stable stars.  In short, Fellowes is a wonderful ambassador for the sport and he deserves all the big-race success that he has enjoyed in his first decade as a trainer. By his own high standards, Fellowes has had a relatively quiet season so far but I am convinced that the second half of his season

Thursday

Ian Sansom

The unbearable lightness of voting

After a while you forget: was I up for Portillo, or had I gone to bed? I think I’d gone to bed. Abbott, Boateng and Bernie Grant, in bed, I definitely remember that. And Powell, accordingly, out. Was that – what? – ’87? What even was that? 1997: where the hell was I? 2010? That was the one that landed us with Cameron and Clegg, yeah? Am I right? But the 1992 general election – I definitely remember that one. That was unforgettable. I remember getting the first Tube home and listening to the Today programme before getting a couple of hours sleep I was in my twenties. Short of

Wednesday