Rod Liddle is associate editor of The Spectator.
There are things that happen when you grow older — bad things, harbingers of death and decay. Past the age of 55, I mean. For example, a friend and fellow columnist confessed recently that upon rising from a sitting position he almost always unintentionally farts. A delicate little ‘glip!’ from his bottom, every time he stands
My most thrilling moment of 2016 so far — aside from watching a smug-looking woman carrying a copy of the Guardian get the heel of one shoe stuck in the escalator at Canary Wharf station (boy did she howl) — was having a Facebook friend request accepted by Trevor Lee. Trevor is a hero of mine.
I suppose spite and schadenfreude are thinnish reasons, intellectually, for wishing Donald Trump to become the next American president (and preferably with Sarah Palin, or someone similarly doolally, as veep). But they are also atavistically compelling reasons nonetheless. Think of the awful, awful people who would be outraged and offended. If you recall, 8 May
We were on our way to a party in south-east London when my friend, Rob, saw the graffiti. Sprayed with painful neatness on a wall: ‘Support Jeremy’. It suited the area so well — a small quadrant of our capital city that the inhabitants I dare say still think is ‘edgy’, even now after they’ve got
A year or so back my friend and colleague Hugo Rifkind wrote a very good piece in which he argued that the issues concerning gay rights should not be resolved simply by an elongated ‘eeeeuw’. In other words, heterosexual distaste at the practices of homosexuals should not determine general policy towards this minority. A good
My favourite Islamic scholar, the Grand Mufti of Saudi Arabia, has come out with yet another corker. He is the gift that keeps on giving. Sheikh Abdul bin Abdullah al Skeikh has decided that one of the world’s gravest sources of evil is the game chess. Never play it, he told his countrymen, for it
[audioplayer src=”http://rss.acast.com/viewfrom22/donaldtrumpsrise-racismattheoscarsandcameronscentre-rightsecret/media.mp3″ title=”Rod Liddle and Tim Robey discuss whether the Oscars are racist” startat=1039] Listen [/audioplayer]In 2017 it will be exactly 50 years since a dapper Sidney Poitier announced to Rod Steiger, in the excellent film In The Heat of the Night: ‘They call me Mr Tibbs!’ Rod Steiger, playing a somewhat right-of-centre sheriff of
So farewell, Shami Chakrabarti. The woman is stepping down as boss of Liberty, for whom – whatever your political views – she has been a hugely effective campaigner. And, further credit: for a comprehensive school girl from an ethnic minority to have achieved so much is pretty laudable, I would argue. I don’t suppose we’ll
[audioplayer src=”http://rss.acast.com/viewfrom22/projectfear/media.mp3″ title=”Rod Liddle and Kaite Welsh discuss David Bowie’s legacy” startat=678] Listen [/audioplayer]I was desperately worried that you hadn’t read or heard enough platitudinous drivel about David Bowie — and therefore felt compelled to weigh in with my own observations. In all honesty I haven’t heard so much repetitive, imbecilic guff since Mandela shuffled
Having taken the piss out of Guardian columnists for their laughably painful paroxysms over the appalling attacks upon women at Cologne railway station, credit where it’s due. The paper at least broke this story about the Swedish police being accused of covering up sex attacks by refugees at a music festival. I dare say that Deborah Orr
Still in denial, then. The liberal left, having first tried to ignore the massed sex attacks in Cologne (and in many other places across Europe), in the hope that the rest of us might not have noticed, are now attempting to explain it away. Prize for the most stupid contribution so far goes to the
The Saudis have got the new year off to a busy start, haven’t they? The authorities executed 47 people, including a rather grim-looking Sheikh Nimr al-Nimr — leading Shia cleric and children’s party balloon sculptor (giraffes a speciality). OK, I made that last bit up. He was just a heavily bearded religious agitator and probably
Who held the power in the supposedly inappropriate relationship between Labour MP Simon Danczuk and gorgeous, pouting etc seventeen-year-old Sophena Houlihan? The fragrant young lady bombarded the loopy old goat with a string of lascivious text messages, in which she fantasised about having sex with him. An odd fantasy, I admit, but each to their
Happy New Year. Sorry about my absence. I’ve been away for a couple of weeks and then, when I returned, there was no internet access and those hardworking people from BT spent ten days mulling over the problem before they tried to put it right. What a wonderful organisation. So, anyway, well done Lutz Bachmann
Why are liberals morons? I’m sure that this question has rattled around your mind before, perhaps when watching one of those fair and balanced debates between three ill-dressed but very liberal women that Newsnight puts on every evening, hosted by Kirsty Wark. You hear them tiptoeing through the -nether regions of some important political issue,
What a pleasure it was to see two socialist parties triumph in the most recent elections. First, Labour increased its share of the vote in Oldham — and then, last weekend, the Front National became France’s most popular party, securing almost 30 per cent in the first round of the country’s regional elections. Labour’s win
If you saw the BBC Ten O’Clock News last night you will have witnessed Nick Bryant’s dispassionate, even-handed treatment of Republican candidate Donald Trump. Trump had called for an end to Muslim immigration into the United States. Bryant’s face was puffed up with outrage; he almost spat out the words of the story and ended
Au contraire. Au contraire. I thought Hilary Benn’s speech was well delivered, but workmanlike in construction and told us nothing that we did not already know – and was vacuous and banal of the geopolitical consequences. I suspect it was adored by the media because it accorded with their point of view; bomb people –
We have been contemplating moving to the North, for a variety of unassailable reasons. One is the chance to gloat on a daily basis. I will immediately become the thinnest and richest man in the village, which will do my flagging middle-aged self-confidence no end of good. Indeed, on the weight issue I could cease
This is a relentlessly busy world, with so many people expressing so many different points of view. We become overwhelmed by it all, at times. So it is useful to have a few short-cuts at hand, when sieving the wheat from the chaff. Much as it is the case that we might ignore any commentator
