Put out the fires

Few events have appalled London liberals so publicly as the surprise emergence of the ten MPs of the Democratic Unionist Party as a force in UK politics. The metropolitan horror has been given full expression in the Twitter railing against ‘misogynist dinosaur homophobes’ and the press caricatures of DUP politicians as overfed, bowler-hatted Orangemen slyly looting government cash. Words such as ‘vile’ and ‘disgusting’ are flung around exultantly, as all nuance is shed. And beneath this lies an unspoken, potent little thrill: how wonderful, finally, to have a bunch of people whom one can openly despise.

I fear that thrill is going to intensify very soon, when images trickle in from the imminent Twelfth of July celebrations, for which energetic loyalists are even now putting the finishing touches to their towering unlit bonfires. The Twelfth is the traditional date upon which members of the Protestant Orange Order parade through the streets and lanes of Northern Ireland, accompanied by skirling pipe music and the deep boom of the Lambeg drum.