One of the most visceral emotions I felt in my early life was shock at a scene played out in the debating chamber of the Glasgow University Union. A young couple in opposing political tribes had embarked on a relationship; this was well known; they were both liked.
Something had gone wrong, and in a lull during one of the Union's parliamentary-style debates they had a falling out. (Their "party" benches abutted one another and both sat on their party's "front bench". As a "backbencher" I had a view from slightly above, down onto the back of both of their heads.)
[GUU debating - at least in the 80s - didn't hide that it was a practice exercise for those who wanted to become MPs. In the 80s this wasn't automatically viewed as a character defect. I took part in one debate - the one I'm remembering - as a Tory backbencher.]
However the contretemps had originated, it blew into increasingly vicious bites (from her) and belated attempts at smoothing down so as (I assume) to avoid public notice (from him.) And then she - magnificent (though not in "my" party) - leapt to her feet, pulled her arm away from him, and shouted: "I'm SICK OF YOU," before walking rapidly out of the chamber.
I was very young (maybe 16 or 17). If the scene sounds soap operatic, let me reassure you that it was closer to actual opera in its effect on me. I felt physically sick on their joint behalf, at the very transparent evidence - and thus a realisation - that what begins as mutual affection can spiral into what *feels* like revulsion (I'm sure it wasn't that bad in fact. Though that might just be ill-placed optimism.)
The debate went on, though I don't remember either the topic or the outcome. I think I learned more about human nature in the second it took the woman to grab back her arm and shout "SICK OF YOU" than the decades'-worth of novels I'd read by then had managed to impart.
I started to share this because, honestly, that "SICK OF YOU" has lived on inside my head, re-occurring as the strongest denunciation I feel towards those who engender a dislike within my "sensation/feeling" - that is: when an instinctive dislike I feel requires words, I reach for that memory - and I was going to end with how I feel it often about Andy Burnham.
That's true, as it happens, but in taking a minute or two to write this I've come to feel that the event, and my memory of it, deserves better than (just) to be used in that way. I hope both parties - both of whom were very pleasant people - went on to have good lives. And I will thank them for inadvertently causing one of those early-adult "step changes" in how I thought about the world, and the people in it. Love can be brutal, and universal harmony is impossible. Doesn't mean we shouldn't try, does it? The hand has to be extended for the rejection to be possible.
Something had gone wrong, and in a lull during one of the Union's parliamentary-style debates they had a falling out. (Their "party" benches abutted one another and both sat on their party's "front bench". As a "backbencher" I had a view from slightly above, down onto the back of both of their heads.)
[GUU debating - at least in the 80s - didn't hide that it was a practice exercise for those who wanted to become MPs. In the 80s this wasn't automatically viewed as a character defect. I took part in one debate - the one I'm remembering - as a Tory backbencher.]
However the contretemps had originated, it blew into increasingly vicious bites (from her) and belated attempts at smoothing down so as (I assume) to avoid public notice (from him.) And then she - magnificent (though not in "my" party) - leapt to her feet, pulled her arm away from him, and shouted: "I'm SICK OF YOU," before walking rapidly out of the chamber.
I was very young (maybe 16 or 17). If the scene sounds soap operatic, let me reassure you that it was closer to actual opera in its effect on me. I felt physically sick on their joint behalf, at the very transparent evidence - and thus a realisation - that what begins as mutual affection can spiral into what *feels* like revulsion (I'm sure it wasn't that bad in fact. Though that might just be ill-placed optimism.)
The debate went on, though I don't remember either the topic or the outcome. I think I learned more about human nature in the second it took the woman to grab back her arm and shout "SICK OF YOU" than the decades'-worth of novels I'd read by then had managed to impart.
I started to share this because, honestly, that "SICK OF YOU" has lived on inside my head, re-occurring as the strongest denunciation I feel towards those who engender a dislike within my "sensation/feeling" - that is: when an instinctive dislike I feel requires words, I reach for that memory - and I was going to end with how I feel it often about Andy Burnham.
That's true, as it happens, but in taking a minute or two to write this I've come to feel that the event, and my memory of it, deserves better than (just) to be used in that way. I hope both parties - both of whom were very pleasant people - went on to have good lives. And I will thank them for inadvertently causing one of those early-adult "step changes" in how I thought about the world, and the people in it. Love can be brutal, and universal harmony is impossible. Doesn't mean we shouldn't try, does it? The hand has to be extended for the rejection to be possible.
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I've signed the Free Speech Union's petition against the Government's conversion therapy ban. Add your name: stoptheconversiontherapyban.uk
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This would make a great Christmas present for the MR James fan in your life. (Hint to anyone who loves me, who may be reading this via a lurking account.) I loved Barendina's last collection of stories - everything you want as these Autumn nights get damper, mistier, gloomier.
November is a time of mists, falling leaves, early sunsets and long, dark nights. Why not settle down somewhere cosy with a book of uncanny stories? My new collection "Deep Waters: Ten More Tales from Norfolk and Beyond" is out now. To buy a copy, follow the link in the post below.
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I don't know if this matters, and I may just have missed it, but I still scan the front page of the @Telegraph first thing, and I didn't see a single mention of the New Zealand general election. Instead I read of the knife-edge result on @X. Perhaps New Zealand is too anglosphere for Axel Springer?
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It's like The Kraken Wakes, when England floods and Mike and Phyllis are holed up at the top of the EBC Tower, broadcasting to a grateful nation ("It's still raining, and civilisation is definitely over"), not the early part when the creatures drag themselves from the sea and pull people apart with sticky goo. (I hope that's not a spoiler for anyone.)
🚨 NEW: The Government's "Black Sky" contingency plans for a national water or power blackout
- Around 100 BBC staff would be deployed to run an emergency RM radio studio stocked with enough food, water and fuel to keep it running for 3 days
- The BBC would broadcast scripts through the studio, including how to ration water, what to do if toilets stop working and which food to eat first (see scripts below)
- Radio masts would switch to diesel generators to keep broadcasts going for up to 72 hours without electricity
- BBC teams would use satellite phones to stay in contact, with agreed meeting points and backup arrangements if those phones stop working
- They would also report from emergency centres across the UK using satellite-equipped BBC vehicles to help keep information flowing to the public
- Emergency services would have alternative ways to communicate if mobile phone networks stopped working
- The Government is putting £70m towards aircraft that could restore mobile phone and internet coverage across the UK for over a week
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In which Dennis once again demonstrates why he should be an MP. Contrast with Labour MPs who've been on X this week to express their inability to comprehend legislation which they themselves are passing.
I know I go on about the abomination that is the Conversion Bill a lot. I don't have children, obviously, but even reading about the Bill makes my blood boil. If I could have an early Christmas wish it would be for all of you who are blessed with children to read about this Bill and understand what Labour are trying to do.
The Bill is nothing, *nothing*, to do with being "nice" to normal gay people, and *everything* about criminalising conversations that any caring parent would have with his or her child. If it is passed it is going to make it almost impossible for our culture to move on from this gender nonsense, a nonsense that has already damaged the lives of far too many children and young people.
I know I go on about the abomination that is the Conversion Bill a lot. I don't have children, obviously, but even reading about the Bill makes my blood boil. If I could have an early Christmas wish it would be for all of you who are blessed with children to read about this Bill and understand what Labour are trying to do.
The Bill is nothing, *nothing*, to do with being "nice" to normal gay people, and *everything* about criminalising conversations that any caring parent would have with his or her child. If it is passed it is going to make it almost impossible for our culture to move on from this gender nonsense, a nonsense that has already damaged the lives of far too many children and young people.
1/ Humanists UK believe they've conducted a "fact check" on a Telegraph piece in which a mother of a trans identifying daughter sets out her fears of the conversion bill.
I intend to defend the mother and her well justified fears in this thread.
humanists.uk/2026/11/05/tel…
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Worth reposting. He was venerating Russell Brand.
Depressing to see media mission to discredit someone who stops playing their game & uses celebrity to help others. Keep going @rustyrockets.
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Our generation's Orwell, apparently.
I've met Russell Brand twice (I think):
Once when I hosted a Guardian Live event about his book in 2014.
Another time I interviewed him for The Big Issue when I was guest editing in 2015.
He also gave my publishers an endorsement for my book The Establishment, which I was mortified about at the time mostly because I thought it was so OTT it would obviously invite ridicule (which it did).
At the time I saw him as a crude means to reach disillusioned younger people with left-wing politics - the sort of people who wouldn't be reached by conventional left-wing journalists and politicians.
As a result I was willing to overlook, or just not look into, his history of problematic behaviour / statements, including sexism.
I convinced myself that he was on some sort of journey and that was a good thing. That was an obvious misjudgement.
I did think he was a bit of a chancer / had a messianic complex, but overlooked that too as a necessary evil in reaching disengaged people.
But that was clearly his main driving force and he clearly ended up concluding that right-wing politics was a better vehicle to satisfy it.
It's an important lesson in not stupidly engaging clearly problematic figures, however charismatic or however much mass appeal they have, in the service of a cause.
What I would say is that right now we should be centring the survivors of a rapist and sexual predator.
I personally don't really think those trying to point score have his survivors' interests at heart.
I would also argue that those with the big questions to answer are the right-wing figures who continue to stand by him and spread conspiratorial nonsense in his defence.
Finally, let's hope that other possible survivors of Russell Brand feel able to come forward.Community note
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How very, very apt. Anyone who pays to read Eaton was already a fool; here is the picture such fools can nail to their bedroom walls. While they're listening to their End of Politics podcasts, no doubt.
The conservative "prior" is stronger than the liberal one. I needed nothing more than my upbringing to regard Brand as a foul degenerate, irregardless his recent sex crime convictions. His psychological torture of Andrew Sachs was the proof, were any needed, of his depravity.
But let's not feel too superior. Yes, we always disliked Brand, and watched, aghast, as he was venerated, repeatedly, by men such as our current Prime Minister. But the fact remains: all those who venerated him still have legislative power over the rest of us.
The conservative "prior" is stronger than the liberal one. I needed nothing more than my upbringing to regard Brand as a foul degenerate, irregardless his recent sex crime convictions. His psychological torture of Andrew Sachs was the proof, were any needed, of his depravity.
But let's not feel too superior. Yes, we always disliked Brand, and watched, aghast, as he was venerated, repeatedly, by men such as our current Prime Minister. But the fact remains: all those who venerated him still have legislative power over the rest of us.
I haven't been on this site for a bit.
But I haven't seen anyone share the photo the New Statesman staff staged in 2013 of Russell Brand as Christ, and themselves as his disciples. It seems to have been scrubbed from the web.
It made me angry then and it makes me angry now.
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I just received the most excellent, helpful, technically proficient support from @HalifaxBank 's building insurance department. The young man in Leeds who helped me with the policy was called Mark. He said that Halifax don't issue follow-up "How did we do?" emails - which is another plus point from me to be honest - but he was *so* helpful that I would like to say "thank you" in public!
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Hey @StevePenk am loving the Rewind. Would you be able to play Texas' great riff on that Donna Summer classic, Love's Unkind, you just played? I love hearing them both together!
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I would like to share a memory and I hope @AllisonPearson doesn't mind. Cats may look at kings (and queens, at times) and all that. When I was sacked from The Telegraph, I was on holiday, in Spain. I got a mention in Private Eye, which described me as a "shire Tory" - since I lived in Hackney at the time, this felt odd. But also nice to see my name.
I'd never missed a column - the four years I had a piece on Saturday mornings I'd never missed one. It's not stressful like proper working is stressful, but it's extremely *suddenly* stressful for two-to-three hours at a time, like the time Sally phoned me when I was in Philly for my actual, non-writing, work, and it was 3am in the morning there, and I had to write a completely new column because "Charles is doing that." (My column usually appeared underneath or round the page from the inestimable Charles Moore, so I understood why he got first dibs at a topic, but on that occasion, forgive me Lord Moore, I cursed you!)
And the constancy is stressful. Even proper work allowed me to book annual leave, and I honestly found having to churn out 850 words a week - plus the 3+ blogs we were expected to produced for Telegraph Blogs - regardless of what else was happening in my life more stressful than running a department of 150 people in five countries (check me! but it's true.)
Anyway, much as I honestly didn't really enjoy pretending to be a columnist, there are a few things that have stuck with me, even 10+ years later. They are obviously the people. Sally, Chris, Robert, Damian and Will - the "editors" in Comment - all of them more skilled with words than I could ever hope to be, and all of them kind (except on those 3am calls!)
The other thing I remember is how horrible it was to be sacked! In my mainstream "statistical" life, I more or less enjoyed a monotonic improvement in status over the years. Writing is *very* different - sharp discontinuities out of the blue. With hindsight, both aspects are some of the best things ever to happen to me: that I was given the chance to write a newspaper column - that goes without saying - but being dismissed, too, was probably good for my soul.
Finally, and back to Allison. She among the excellent columnists was the kindest, most fun, and most supportive. Above I asked her forgiveness for writing - eventually! forigive all the late-night memories along the way - about her, and this is why: you're a star woman, Allison. I will never forget how you went out your way at the Sophie's Poirot party to make me feel good about myself, just after my dismissal. In my un-heterosexual way, I fell in love with you then, and your bravery in your writing since has only increased my ardour. Maybe you're Reform, maybe I'm a Tory: who cares. You're a writer, one who *matters*. Unlike with me, the Telegraph will live to regret the loss of you.
I'd never missed a column - the four years I had a piece on Saturday mornings I'd never missed one. It's not stressful like proper working is stressful, but it's extremely *suddenly* stressful for two-to-three hours at a time, like the time Sally phoned me when I was in Philly for my actual, non-writing, work, and it was 3am in the morning there, and I had to write a completely new column because "Charles is doing that." (My column usually appeared underneath or round the page from the inestimable Charles Moore, so I understood why he got first dibs at a topic, but on that occasion, forgive me Lord Moore, I cursed you!)
And the constancy is stressful. Even proper work allowed me to book annual leave, and I honestly found having to churn out 850 words a week - plus the 3+ blogs we were expected to produced for Telegraph Blogs - regardless of what else was happening in my life more stressful than running a department of 150 people in five countries (check me! but it's true.)
Anyway, much as I honestly didn't really enjoy pretending to be a columnist, there are a few things that have stuck with me, even 10+ years later. They are obviously the people. Sally, Chris, Robert, Damian and Will - the "editors" in Comment - all of them more skilled with words than I could ever hope to be, and all of them kind (except on those 3am calls!)
The other thing I remember is how horrible it was to be sacked! In my mainstream "statistical" life, I more or less enjoyed a monotonic improvement in status over the years. Writing is *very* different - sharp discontinuities out of the blue. With hindsight, both aspects are some of the best things ever to happen to me: that I was given the chance to write a newspaper column - that goes without saying - but being dismissed, too, was probably good for my soul.
Finally, and back to Allison. She among the excellent columnists was the kindest, most fun, and most supportive. Above I asked her forgiveness for writing - eventually! forigive all the late-night memories along the way - about her, and this is why: you're a star woman, Allison. I will never forget how you went out your way at the Sophie's Poirot party to make me feel good about myself, just after my dismissal. In my un-heterosexual way, I fell in love with you then, and your bravery in your writing since has only increased my ardour. Maybe you're Reform, maybe I'm a Tory: who cares. You're a writer, one who *matters*. Unlike with me, the Telegraph will live to regret the loss of you.
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I can’t believe what I’m reading @AllisonPearson Of course you will flourish but they must have gone demented to lose you.
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I’m so sick of the “clever” (credentialed, really) people slopsplaining to we thickos why spending and taxes can only go up and up and up. Save money: delete her chair, or whatever role employs her. Ask her to sell pies for a week.
Sack any “academic” who spouts economic or critical theory rubbish. It won’t save us much but the catharsis would be, honestly I think we’re at the stage, the *state*, in which such catharsis is necessary. Not sufficient, economically or politically, but necessary. We can’t face the rest of our lives being taxed to fund drivel like
this.
Sack any “academic” who spouts economic or critical theory rubbish. It won’t save us much but the catharsis would be, honestly I think we’re at the stage, the *state*, in which such catharsis is necessary. Not sufficient, economically or politically, but necessary. We can’t face the rest of our lives being taxed to fund drivel like
this.
“What I find very difficult… is the assumption you have to cut your way to be being fiscally responsible”
“There’s not a hope in hell that [Labour] are going to oversee any cuts to public spending”
Economics professor Mariana Mazzucato and Conservative MP Julia Lopez debate s spending plans.
#Newsnight
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Mario is completely right This decent bloke's frustration will be mirrored across the country. More and more businesses being squeezed out by *deliberate policy choices of the government* to make wages more expensive, utilities more expensive, NI more expensive, business rates more expensive. All to gouge more money from value-adders like this man ... to spend on welfare. Free cars for the mildly anxious, free homes for - you know who.
I pray this budget is a national turning point, the "cut through" where enough people realise that while governments can't control what happens in Iraq, they *can* and *do* control the chance of a business being solvent. This isn't to pretend that the previous Tory govts were perfect, but it's *as* absurd to pretend that this one is somehow no different. It is significantly, malevolently worse.
I pray this budget is a national turning point, the "cut through" where enough people realise that while governments can't control what happens in Iraq, they *can* and *do* control the chance of a business being solvent. This isn't to pretend that the previous Tory govts were perfect, but it's *as* absurd to pretend that this one is somehow no different. It is significantly, malevolently worse.
Utterly heartbreaking.
A must watch.
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Graeme Archer retweeted
Local piemaker explains how Burnham's first Budget will make things much worse:
"I don’t qualify for the business rates relief because I’m multi-site… I’ve got two shops, so I don’t qualify. The minimum wage has increased. I’m not saying we shouldn’t pay staff. I’m saying we can’t afford to pay them…
All my staff have been with us for years. So I’m going to have approximately a £700 a week increase. My suppliers are having an increase too. My supply bills are around £20,000 to £30,000 a week. That’ll go up 10%, so £2,000 to £3,000 a week. So that’s £4,000 a week I’ve got to find…
That’s about 20,000 to 30,000 pies a week. So my costs have gone up. I’ve got no business rates relief. The National Insurance is crippling me. The energy crisis is crippling me. I’m going to have to put my prices up,
Customers are going to get mad. I’m going to get less profit. As a family, as a director, I’ve got to take a 2% cut. So my family, my one-year-old girl. I’m taking a pay cut. The business is taking a pay cut.
How is that breathing room for me? Where’s my breathing space? John Healey, if you’re listening, where’s my breathing space? You promised me. You promised the UK breathing space. Where is it?"
"I don’t qualify for the business rates relief because I’m multi-site… I’ve got two shops, so I don’t qualify. The minimum wage has increased. I’m not saying we shouldn’t pay staff. I’m saying we can’t afford to pay them…
All my staff have been with us for years. So I’m going to have approximately a £700 a week increase. My suppliers are having an increase too. My supply bills are around £20,000 to £30,000 a week. That’ll go up 10%, so £2,000 to £3,000 a week. So that’s £4,000 a week I’ve got to find…
That’s about 20,000 to 30,000 pies a week. So my costs have gone up. I’ve got no business rates relief. The National Insurance is crippling me. The energy crisis is crippling me. I’m going to have to put my prices up,
Customers are going to get mad. I’m going to get less profit. As a family, as a director, I’ve got to take a 2% cut. So my family, my one-year-old girl. I’m taking a pay cut. The business is taking a pay cut.
How is that breathing room for me? Where’s my breathing space? John Healey, if you’re listening, where’s my breathing space? You promised me. You promised the UK breathing space. Where is it?"
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