David Cameron was in a foul mood on Monday night. ‘Cash for Cameron’, the scandal about a Tory treasurer trying to lure donors with the prospect of dinner in the Camerons’ Downing Street flat if they coughed up £250,000, is precisely the kind of story that gets under his skin. He knows that it matters,
Was the Home Secretary Theresa May half-cut when she started ranting about alcohol in the House of Commons last week? The haste and suddenness of her intervention had the whiff of addled self-disgust about it, the self-pitying fervour of the alcoholic who is determined to get clean. As if she had been bingeing all morning
I once had an idea that it might be fun to write a technology column. What Jeremy Clarkson did with cars, I thought, and Giles Coren and A.A. Gill do with restaurants, I could do with… phones and stuff. It could be one of those launchpad-type columns, I thought, where you don’t really write about
As one who has had the pleasure of meeting Peter Cruddas, without being an undercover reporter, I see the latest scandal about party funding rather differently from most. Mr Cruddas has the curious, attractive unworldliness which often goes with being a very successful self-made businessman. He is the son of an alcoholic taxi-driver from Hackney,
As lead balloons go, last week’s Budget went down faster than James Cameron’s submersible in the Mariana Trench. The closer the small-print scrutiny afterwards, the worse it got. The pro-business measures were hardly sufficient to justify the claim that ‘this Budget unashamedly backs business’ — certainly no small businessman I met that evening, when I
