Some alien force keeps attacking my laptop. Every few seconds my anti-virus security system pings me with an audible warning of attempted forced entry, a process which paralyses all thought and makes working in a library impossible. It clearly isn’t a hacker from the News of the World, so who could it be? My wildest
I recently met a gentleman of Dorset who kindly showed me his car collection. It included an Austin Champ, the Jeep look-alike in service with the military 1954–66. Originally intended as an alternative to the Land Rover, it couldn’t hack it alongside Solihull’s finest — less adaptable, less reliable, more complex, twice as expensive. Yet
Many people have accused me of toadying up to the Murdoch gang in the past week or so, since I’m one of the few journalists willing to go on record to defend the Dirty Digger. Actually, it’s out of conviction rather than any hope of preferment. I really do believe that, on balance, Murdoch has
Toby Young suffers from Status Anxiety Forgive me if I don’t join in the orgy of sanctimony surrounding the News of the World. If any evidence is uncovered that proves a member of the paper’s staff hacked into Milly Dowler’s phone and deleted her voicemail messages, then, yes, he or she should be prosecuted to
Lambourn trainer Sylvester Kirk retains the distinctive tones of his native Donegal/Tyrone. There was just one moment during his eight years as assistant to Richard Hannon, a period which coincided with the Troubles in Northern Ireland, when he wondered if the accent was going to leave him alive. Deputed to drive the Hannons to Windsor
Someone has sent me an extraordinary newsletter from the outgoing secretary of the North Yorkshire NUT. It provides a unique insight into the leadership of the most militant of the teaching unions. As anyone with a child at school will know, the NUT has been instrumental in organising this week’s ‘day of action’ in the
I spent last weekend in Ibiza. That makes me sound like a plutocrat, but I discovered that if you’re prepared to arrive on the island at 1.15 a.m. on EasyJet it’s just about affordable. A friend who’s taken a villa invited my whole family to come and stay and that’s so rare these days I couldn’t
Never have I lost so much money in a week or more enjoyed the process of doing so, at least until Mrs Oakley sees the size of the cheque I will be writing my bookmaker. Such is the competitiveness of Royal Ascot, I shall explain, that the only certainty of the week is that the
When my son Ludo first suggested selling lemonade outside our house in Acton as a way of earning some extra pocket money, I was a bit dubious. Don’t you need a licence from the European Union before you can set up a stall in your driveway? And what about ’elf and safety? I could picture
Cliveden House, that great architectural confection above the Thames in Berkshire, is best known as the seat of the Astors and for the start of the Profumo scandal in the 1960s. The Astors were a political and financial dynasty who colonised Cliveden in the middle of the 19th century and by early in the 20th
Two weeks ago, the London Evening Standard outed me as one of four ‘celebrities’ who’d broken the super-injunction about Ryan Giggs. According to the newspaper: ‘Lawyers warned the stars could face a huge bill for damages after revealing the name of the Premier League footballer on microblogging site Twitter.’ My crime was to post the
As André Fabre walked off the Derby course following the success of Pour Moi, I watched one of the horse’s connections embrace him and declare, ‘I’ll tell you one thing. He’s a cocky little bastard, isn’t he?’ It wasn’t the horse the hugger had in mind: jockey Mickael Barzalona, despite winning by just a head
Toby Young suffers from Status Anxiety I’m writing this from the Hay Festival in Wales, which has become an annual pilgrimage for my family and me. The children can be parked in a masterclass on how to draw dragons while I slope off and listen to David Miliband being interviewed by Matthew d’Ancona. Not everyone’s
The Spectator’s supplements on Travel, since June 2011 The Spectator’s supplements on Travel, since June 2011 The Spectator Guide to Cruises — Autumn 2011 View online version | View print version 17th September 2011 The very idea of a cruise holiday sends shivers down some spines — and not necessarily shivers of excitement. There’s something
As I get older I’ve begun to obsessively monitor myself for evidence of mental deterioration. For instance, I cannot watch Match of the Day without reciting the names of as many Premier League goalkeepers as I can remember. I do it so often it has become a Pavlovian response. Another test is trying to remember
Mrs Oakley hopes it will be a lesson to me after all the abandoned umbrellas, mislaid mobiles and washbags left in hotel-room bathrooms over the years. When changing planes at Mumbai Airport at one o’clock in the morning en route for Hong Kong, I failed to pick up my laptop after the security check. Retrieving
I think I may soon have enough material for another comic memoir, this one charting my increasingly accident-prone career as a political campaigner. I’m not talking about setting up the West London Free School, which is still going swimmingly, but the strange direction my career has taken as a consequence of the political platform the
There recently left these shores a benign and fecund angel of the automotive realm, Dr Franz Josef Paefgen, retiring chairman and CEO of Bentley. Benign because he was unfailingly polite and helpful and understood the Bentley tradition and the sort of people who buy into it. Indeed, he empathised with a wider tradition than that:
I received a shocking letter from a 15-year-old schoolgirl called Carola Binney last week. It was a real marmalade dropper. In all my years I’d never seen anything quite like it. Had she really spent the past 11 years in full-time education? It scarcely seemed possible, not at a British school. To my astonishment, all
The debate on whether or not the extraordinary Frankel should contest the Derby seems to be concluded, at least in Henry Cecil’s mind, which is the place that matters. The common view seems to be that no mere horse could repeat over the undulations of the four furlongs longer Derby course the extraordinary physical explosion,