What went wrong with Billy Bragg?

An online ding-dong is like a full complement of condiments at lunch; you wouldn’t want to live off it, but it certainly adds spice. I haven’t had a decent one in ages, but last weekend I decided to have some sport with Billy Bragg, whose decline truly reflects the culture wars which shape our times.  

A few words on Bragg for Spectator readers who probably think he’s that Geordie chap with the hairdo who used to present those arty shows on commercial television. He was born in 1957 in Barking – geography is sometimes destiny, as we shall see. Inspired by punk rock, he attempted a musical career at the age of 20; upon failing, he joined the army as a recruit aiming for the Queen’s Royal Irish Hussars of the Royal Armoured Corps. Here Bragg displayed a rare flash of originality and verve – people don’t generally career-shift from putative pop star to squaddie – but unlike those other soldiers turned singers James Blunt (who served in Kosovo) and Shaggy (the Persian Gulf) he bought himself out after completing three months basic training for a very reasonable £175.