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If you’re the type of person who pays attention to these things, you might have noticed Keir Starmer’s new attack line. ‘The joke isn’t funny anymore, prime minister,’ the Labour leader now tells Boris Johnson on a semi-regular basis – attempting to turn his opponent’s clownish entertainer shtick from electoral strength to weakness. Leaving aside the merits of the jibe, this line has one major flaw in its central premise. Namely that the leader of the opposition is evidently still under the impression that comedy has a shelf-life – whereas all evidence from our streaming habits points to that not being the case. And then some. If anything, most of

Will the news that energy bills could double usher in a little common sense when it comes to our obsession with central heating? One of Britain’s biggest energy firms has been forced to apologise after suggesting that thrifty customers might want to put on a pair of socks before whacking on the thermostat.  But we’ve only been namby-pamby about heating for a generation or two. Before then, we wrapped up warm, unashamed. Even when we’re told that Covid is far less transmissible with a bit of extra ventilation, you’d be thought mad for opening a window in the middle of winter. Our schools nowadays are like orchid greenhouses: the wall of heat greeting you as

Despite appearances, the word ‘Veganuary’ is not a part of the female anatomy – nor is it a venereal disease. It’s probably as irritating as the latter, however, and I dare say just as resistant to even the most powerful antibiotics. In case you are unfamiliar with this unsavoury neologism, its refers to an annual initiative, first launched in 2014, to get people to forgo meat, poultry, fish and dairy products for the first 31 days of the year. That’s right, it’s like an especially joyless form Dry January dreamt up for masochists – those seeking the black-belt in self-denial, and a sure-fire way to usher in the January blues.

There’s always a bit of a post-Christmas sag, isn’t there? The presents have been piled up but not actually put away yet, the tree is dropping needles like there’s no tomorrow, and those final bits and bobs of leftovers in the fridge aren’t looking terribly appealing (a weary parsnip and some withered peas do not a Christmas sandwich make). So it’s no surprise that the French have made sure there’s something to look forward to before we pack away the festive season for another year: the galette des rois. Named after the three kings of the nativity story, galettes des rois are traditionally eaten on 6 January, or Epiphany, the

The beginning of January is a blank slate. A time where we feel a sense of excitement as to what the year will bring.  As each year rolls into a new one, my hopes for the future have included the usual – more exercise, more travel, more greens… Typically, I fail to keep to my promises. I asked my family and friends if they manage to stick to their resolutions. They don’t either. It doesn’t help that we live in a society obsessed with success. There’s a fine balance between dreaming big and setting oneself up for a fall. I keep a box of my favourite poems, letters, old journals and unfinished

It is undeniably stew weather. I am, I’m afraid, one of those people who grimace all the way through summer, longing for autumn, thinking of fall-clichés: big cosy jumpers, afternoons spent reading on the sofa with a blanket, an excuse to bring out my knitting, rain drumming on the windows. Predictably, my greatest reason for embracing this time of year is the food it brings with it, and above all, is the presence of a casserole on the hob, bubbling away, slowly gaining body and flavour, and filling the kitchen with boozy, meaty, smoky smells. I have a lot of love in my heart for all kinds of stews, but

I’m entirely convinced that, when drunk in moderation, wine is good for us, with its benefits far outweighing its potential harm. It certainly reduces stress, a contributory factor in around a fifth of all heart attacks, and helps us socialise, raising our ‘feel-good’ dopamine and serotonin levels. All of which should make us think twice about a completely dry January, whatever the level of our festive indulgence. Red wines are high in chemical compounds such as resveratrol – an antibiotic agent and antioxidant which some studies suggest might play a part in protecting against heart attacks, strokes and cancer – and saponin, an antioxidant which might help reduce cholesterol. If

Life in the world’s newest republic is sweet. It’s peak season in Barbados, and another wave of Covid hasn’t stopped the rum sundowners flowing on the Caribbean island’s sugar-sand beaches. Given half the chance, many of us might well prefer to spend January wafting between beachfront restaurants and sun loungers, as the packed front-end of planes heading there during December have proved. Many of the island’s predominantly British holiday home owners have been heading to their properties on the West Coast of the island – and there will be no doubt a few villas changing hands too. ‘In the early stages of the pandemic there were a few nervous owners worrying whether

Scotland’s deputy first minister has been trying to discourage would-be New Year’s Eve revellers from travelling to England this week. Those planning to escape Scotland’s strict Covid rules with a Hogmanay trip south of the border are going against the ‘spirit’ of the restrictions, according to John Swinney. As Chloe Smith, the UK work and pensions minister, has pointed out though, Scots are ‘more than free to move around’ the UK over the New Year – Nicola Sturgeon’s SNP are not yet able to impose a hard border along the 96-mile stretch between Bella Caledonia and contaminated England. And for those Scots who do want to exercise their rights as

As we count down the remaining days and hours to 2022, a cinematic tour through ten motion pictures when midnight has special meaning. Since Midnight Mass is celebrated on the evening when Christmas Eve gives way to Christmas Day, it makes sense that the hour is not associated with evil or supernatural goings on – except, that is, for St George’s Eve. In Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), Jonathan Harker is warned: ‘It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway?’ In the US, ‘Midnight Movies’ (B-pictures and exploitation flicks) were

I’d always assumed that the hummingbird’s cake derived its name from its unapologetic sweetness: a cake so singing with fruit juice and soft caramelly sugar that it charms the (humming)birds from the trees. The origins may in fact be more prosaic: originally called the Doctor Bird cake, it was named after the national symbol of Jamaica, a type of hummingbird, only found on the island, and it first came to fame outside of Jamaica thanks to a bit of a PR stunt. It was a marketing tool, really: one of a number of recipes exported by the Jamaican Tourist Board in 1968 in little press packs sent to the USA.