London

Is Ian Katz plotting a return to ‘snooooozepapers’?

With Katharine Viner guaranteed a final round interview to be the next Guardian editor-in-chief after winning a staff ballot, rumours are circulating that her former colleague Ian Katz is the other horse left in the race. Hot goss: final two in race for Guardian editorship are now @iankatz1000 and @KathViner, insider tells me. — Paul Waugh (@paulwaugh) March 13, 2015 Katz left his role as deputy editor of the Guardian to join the BBC as Newsnight editor in 2013. At the time, it was reported that he had grown tired of waiting for Alan Rusbridger to step down as editor. If it is the case that Katz is in the final two, his interview with the

Won’t someone please unleash the challenger banks?

In my Yorkshire town of Helmsley the NatWest branch, originally an outpost of Beckett & Co of Leeds, has closed down — collateral damage of its crippled parent RBS’s continuing struggle for viability. Our branch of the Australian-owned Yorkshire Bank, descendant of the West Riding Penny Savings institution, became an antique shop some time ago. HSBC, formerly Midland, is now a hairdressing salon. When they arrived a century ago, all three were ‘challenger banks’ of their day. But now they have gone, no challengers have ridden in to replace them — unless we count Handelsbanken, the progressively old-fashioned Swedish retail bank that has a thriving franchise down the road at

John Aubrey and his circle: those magnificent men and their flying machines

John Aubrey investigated everything from the workings of the brain, the causation of winds and the origins of Stonehenge to how to cure the fungal infection thrush by jamming a live frog into a child’s mouth (you hold it there until it — the frog — suffocates, then replace it with a fresh frog). He seemed half-cracked as often as not to less empirical 17th-century contemporaries, and for most of the next 200 years posterity forgot him. His astonishing renaissance in the last century owed much to two novelists: Anthony Powell, who published a biography, followed by a selection of Aubrey’s Brief Lives in 1949, and John Fowles, who brought

Yes, Scotland does receive an unfair share of public spending. Probably

Gulp. But what about England? That’s one of the questions to be asked in the aftermath of the latest Scottish spending and revenue figures, published today. The figures do not lie. Even when North Sea oil figures are taken into account – a geographic accident that, while welcome, remains an unearned accident – England (as a whole) subsidises other parts of the United Kingdom. This is a good thing. This is the way it is supposed to be. But – double gulp – shouldn’t Scotland be subsidising other parts of the UK too? Identifiable spending per capita in Scotland is a bit higher than in Wales, London and north-eastern England,

Is the Dorchester the designated grand hotel for fat people? The portions at its new grill say so

The Dorchester Hotel, Park Lane, is a cake floating in space. All grand hotels create a parallel universe in which their guests are returned to some great gilded and unnatural womb with mini-bar and floristry, but the Dorchester feels particularly remote; has it overplayed its myth? Or is it a combination of the traffic (Park Lane has eight traffic lanes, three roundabouts, one set of unicorn-themed gates and a monument to the dead animals of war), the net curtains (the decorative equivalent of blindness) and the strange completeness of the building? What does the Dorchester, with its curved beige frontage and yellow awnings, actually look like? Bournemouth. Or any retirement

Suburban legends: Why London’s property boom seems set to help Labour win seats

Economists have for some time spoken of a ‘great inversion’ of London, whereby property price hikes in inner London, often linked to gentrification, has made suburbia comparatively more affordable. These changes, marked in the five years since David Cameron became Prime Minister, could have a profound effect on how the general election result pans out in the city. This is especially the case given the ability of such changes to affect the social and demographic makeup of London, as people from poorer backgrounds, the young and ethnic minorities are more likely to be susceptible to price increases in the private rental market. In some ways, this is nothing new, with

Does Evgeny Lebedev fancy being Mayor of London?

While the Tories scrabble around for a candidate for the 2016 London Mayoral election, Mr S hears one millionaire is already eyeballing the 2020 race. Barely an edition of the Evening Standard fails to feature either an interview by (or with) their proprietor Evgeny Lebedev. His face is regularly found across the pages of both his publications the Standard and the Independent, most recently in an awkward interview with David Cameron. His father Alexander must have been proud, as he uploaded a photo of the two to Instagram: Evgueny recently interviewed D.Cameron.Hope a question about UK/Russia relations was raised. A photo posted by @alexanderelebedev on Feb 21, 2015 at 10:36am PST While most have put all this

The myth of the housing crisis

[audioplayer src=”http://rss.acast.com/viewfrom22/the-snp-threat-to-westminster/media.mp3″ title=”Simon Jenkins vs James Forsyth on the housebuilding myth” startat=1215] Listen [/audioplayer]There is no such thing as the English countryside. There is my countryside, your countryside and everyone else’s. Most people fight just for theirs. When David Cameron told the BBC’s Countryfile he would defend the countryside ‘as I would my own family’, many of its defenders wondered which one he meant. In the past five years a national asset that public opinion ranks with the royal family, Shakespeare and the NHS, has slid into trench warfare. Parish churches fill with protest groups. Websites seethe with fury. Planning lawyers have never been busier. The culprit has been planning

Kirstie Allsopp comes to Sir Malcolm Rifkind’s defence

Sir Malcolm Rifkind’s decision to stand down as the MP for Kensington at the next election after a ‘cash for access’ sting hasn’t pleased everyone. In fact the good people of Kensington seem rather dismayed by the move. While Rifkind’s claim that his salary of £60,000 is not enough to live on received ridicule from many lefties, those who reside in the affluent borough can at least see his point of view. Kirstie Allsopp, the television presenter, has voiced her sadness that her local MP is to quit. Oh bugger it, I might as well say it – Malcolm Rifkind is my local MP & I doubt very much they’ll manage to replace him with someone better. — Kirstie Mary

Should we actually be worried about the Syria-bound schoolgirls?

Are you terribly worried about those three London ‘schoolgirls’ who have gone off to fight for the Islamic State in Syria? I must admit I haven’t lost an awful lot of sleep over it. The BBC ran the story at interminable length on Sunday night, the implication seeming to be that we should strain every sinew to get the poor mites back home to their loving and undoubtedly well-integrated community. I don’t think they should be allowed back in any way, as it happens. And by and large, the more similarly disposed Muslims who feel an attraction to Isis actually go to Syria, the better, frankly. Or is this callous and unfeeling of

Rowleys is Did Mummy Love Me Really? food – and it’s perfect

I think Rowley’s is the perfect restaurant; but I am really a gay man. Rowley’s is at 113 Jermyn Street (the Tesco end). It was made in homage to the Wall’s sausage and ice-cream fortune, although it opened in 1976, after the Wall’s sausage and ice-cream company (I call it that because it sounds magical) was sold to Unilever (less magical). So it is quite a late homage. The Wall’s sausage and ice-cream fortune, how I love to type the words; did you know that Mr Wall moved into ice-cream so as not to sack staff in the summer months, when no one — except me and George IV —

Martin Vander Weyer

Bet on a swift Grexit

‘Will Greece exit the eurozone in 2015?’ Paddy Power was pricing ‘yes’ at 3-to-1 on Tuesday, with 5-to-2 on another Greek general election within the year and 6-to-4 on the more cautious ‘Greece to adopt an official currency other than the euro by the end of 2017.’ I’m no betting man — as I reminded myself after backing a parade of point-to-point losers on Sunday — and I defer to our in-house speculator Freddy Gray, who will offer a wider guide to political bets worth having in the forthcoming Spectator Money (7 March). But on the Greek card I’m tempted by the longer odds on the shorter timeframe, because this

Dippygate: Natural History Museum’s diplodocus sacrificed on the commercial altar

There was outcry last month when it was announced that ‘Dippy the Diplodocus’ is to be removed from the Natural History Museum’s vast Hintze Hall, where he has been greeting visitors for the last 35 years. Instead a giant skeleton of blue whale will be suspended from the ceiling, in what they spin as an ‘important and necessary change’. Officially, ‘the blue whale symbolises’ the museum’s ‘desire for people to be completely engaged in current issues about humans’ impact on the natural world and our chance to build a sustainable future.’ Or so a spokesman of the museum says. However, a source tells of a more cynical explanation for the

Tory Black & White Ball tempts Nancy Dell’Olio into politics

One of the more glamorous attendees of this week’s Tory Black and White ball was Nancy Dell’Olio. The former girlfriend of Sven Goran Eriksson attended the Conservative fundraiser as the guest of Ivan Massow, the London mayoral hopeful. When Mr S caught up with Dell’Olio after the ball, it seemed the presence of political leaders was starting to rub off on her. ‘It was good to be there, I enjoyed David’s speech,’ the Italian lawyer told Steerpike at the Fernando Botero Private View at the Opera Gallery, before talk turned to her own career. ‘I’ll tell you what, I could apply to change my passport, one of my passions is politics. My friend

Immigration, not money, will improve Scotland’s most deprived schools

I suppose we should be thankful that Nicola Sturgeon has acknowledged there’s a problem with Scotland’s public education system, even if she’s hit upon the wrong solution. Earlier this week, the First Minister announced that the Scottish -government would be trying out its version of ‘the London challenge’, a programme carried out by the last government, to address the chronic underachievement of Scotland’s most deprived children. In the past, the SNP has deflected criticisms of its education record by pointing out that Scottish 15-year-olds did marginally better than their English counterparts in the 2012 Pisa tests. But the difference between the two groups is minuscule and both have declined dramatically

EastEnders wanted to show Thatcher’s Britain. These days it would make Maggie proud

Albert Square full of Thatcherites? You ’avin a larf? No, it’s true. EastEnders, conceived 30 years ago partly as a means of enraging the Conservative party, has blossomed into a Tory commercial. Iain Duncan-Smith could watch all the wealth-creating activity in Albert Square with a syrupy smile; George Osborne could visit Phil Mitchell’s garage in a hi-vis jacket and look perfectly at home (Boris Johnson has already had a cameo pint at the Queen Vic). EastEnders portrays small businesses built up through hard work; it implies that turning to the state won’t get you anywhere; they even sent swotty teenager Libby Fox to Oxford. Never mind the affairs and addictions,

Cybersex is a dangerous world (especially for novelists)

Few first novels are as successful as S.J. Watson’s Before I Go to Sleep, which married a startling and unusual premise to a tightly controlled and claustrophobic thriller. Its only drawback was that it was a hard act to follow. Novelists tend to dump all their brilliant ideas into their first book, and the white heat of originality compensates to some extent for any want of craft. Second novels lack both advantages, and have the additional problem that readers come to them laden with expectations. Like its predecessor, Second Life is a slice of domestic noir with a woman narrator. It is set mainly in affluent corners of London, with

Rivea: a London annexe to the world’s maddest expensive restaurant

Rivea (stupid name) is in the bowels of Bulgari in Knightsbridge, a hotel which looks like a vast Virgin Upper Class lounge. It sits opposite One Hyde Park (stupid name), an apartment block which looks like a vast Virgin Upper Class lounge and which I am fairly certain appeared two weeks ago in a very silly television show called Silent Witness, in which a plutocrat was murdered with scented gas after being chased by the FSB. Was he Litvinenko, or Berezovsky, who I think was murdered for suggesting that Vladimir Putin is really Dobby the masochistic elf from Harry Potter? Who knows, but it is always gratifying when the BBC

The Tooting poisoner and the relentless rise of the urban fox

Cowering in the corner of a pet shop, I edged towards the door to try to escape as a stranger yelled at me. The man’s face was so puckered up and puce with anger that I feared I was moments away from being beaten to death with a ball-thrower or ham bone. I had only popped in to buy some dog food for the spaniel and now the spaniel was hiding behind me as a fellow customer shouted abuse. The lady who owned the pet shop was trying to appease the shouting man, who had his own dog with him, a scrappy little terrier who looked as terrified as the

Powers of persuasion: how Churchill brought America on side

In time for the 50th anniversary of Churchill’s death comes this pacy novel about his attempts to persuade the Americans to join the war. It is January 1941; President Roosevelt’s special envoy Harry Hopkins arrives in Blitz-torn London and is subjected to Churchill’s charm offensive. Hopkins, a chain-smoking, hard-drinking man of principle with a dislike of hereditary privilege, finds himself guided down every corridor of power. It’s port and cigars at Downing Street, roast pheasant at Chequers, even champagne in the prime ministerial bathroom while the great man fires questions at him from the tub, ‘a pink, round, gleaming Michelin man’. In between times, Hopkins drinks at the Black Cat