Here is a collection of some of The Spectator’s best cartoons from the last decade, put together to take your mind off the humourless PC world we are now trapped in. Some people say they only read The Spectator for the cartoons. Who am I to argue?
Here is a collection of some of The Spectator’s best cartoons from the last decade, put together to take your mind off the humourless PC world we are now trapped in.
For too long, Britain has been complacent about the progress made by its former colony. Now we risk missing out on the important part India will play in the new economic world order. Jo Johnson on the Prime Minister’s attempt to woo New Delhi
David Cameron is, by instinct, sceptical of the Heseltinian tradition of herding businessmen onto aeroplanes bound for faraway countries. Yet when he heads to India next week, he will be accompanied not only by perhaps the largest trade delegation the country has ever seen, but by his Chancellor, Foreign Secretary, Business Secretary and other assorted ministers.
There is a point in the life of all companies where they go from being truth machines to lie machines. The honesty necessary to succeed when times are difficult, either as a start-up or as a firm fighting off disaster, becomes a tendency to distortion when the cash is flowing freely and the profits seemingly endless. Apple may not quite be there yet. But the firm regarded as the benchmark for elegant, popular technology is fast becoming one of the bad guys, a byword for the moral failings of global capitalism.
Crooks who are in prison are not burgling your house, says Theodore Dalrymple. They themselves understand that perfectly clearly: it is only sentimental mugs who don’tWhen Mr Clarke went recently to Leeds Prison, prior to announcing in a speech that prison wasn’t working and that therefore fewer people ought to be locked up, he was reported to have been much affected by the story of a man he met there who had been imprisoned for six weeks for having failed to pay child support.
LhasaI experience an electrifying culture shock upon arrival in Lhasa. Not because it is so different to what I’m used to in London, but because it is so similar. Having been raised on a diet of Tintin in Tibet and other tall tales of a snowcapped mountainous land inhabited by a mystical people, I was expecting a paranormal experience, monks in snowboots, maybe even a yeti or two. So imagine my surprise when I notice that the Tibetan man driving me from Lhasa airport to my hotel is wearing a Playboy jacket.
All too late in the day, I have come to worry about the stuff I put out in my waste bins. It is not the recycling issue that bothers me, but what council officials, poring over my detritus with rubber gloves in some sanitised hell in Maidstone, might find out about me, and what they might decide to do as a consequence. Obviously, nothing good. It never is anything good. They are not going to ring me up and say sir, as a consequence of your rubbish inspection, we’ve decided to reduce your council tax per year to what it would cost to feed a family of 12 in Mali for seven decades.
Don’t knock daytime TV, says Lloyd Evans. It may be mindless and banal, but it is entertainment in its purest formIt’s happening right now. I just had a flick-through and it’s all going on. You wouldn’t believe it. A Labrador called Pongo has been squashed by a tractor and is having his broken paw fixed at the vet. A grandmother from Dartford is trying to raise funds for her daughter-in-law’s wedding by auctioning a trunkload of heirlooms.