Life

High life

A better class of patriot

The Fitzdares’ party at Annabel’s was not quite the kind of shindig I was expecting. After all, Fitzdares is a bespoke bookmaker, and bookies are not known for classy parties, only for classy fleecing of their clients. Not Fitzdares, however; a company I have invested in along with the Goldsmith boys and James Osborne, uncle

More from life

Borderline

For a soulless city, Phoenix certainly has an interesting airport. The last time I was here, supposedly on business, I had my boarding pass issued by a vampire and found myself being herded through security by an official dressed as a giant chicken. Then it was Halloween, but here we are on an ordinary June

Spectator Sport

At odds with England

The prediction racket is a sportswriting staple. When the World Cup kicked off three weekends ago this corner boldly blogged the prophecies for The Speccie’s website: that is, the England team would be home for the first week of Wimbledon; the Berlin final on 9 July would finish Argentina 2, Czech Republic 2 (the latter

Dear Mary

Dear Mary… | 1 July 2006

Q. Parents of one of our son’s best friends at school are famous for their tightness. The father makes ‘funny money’ in the City, but they often invite people to their house in Devon, then suggest the guests take them out to restaurants as the mother ‘can’t face’ cooking. They are people my wife and

Mind your language

Mind your language | 1 July 2006

The play Abraham Lincoln was watching when he was shot was Our American Cousin. Its English author, Tom Taylor (1817–80), reached the height of his great popularity with The Ticket-of-Leave Man, staged two years earlier, in 1863. I noticed a belittling reference to it in Stevenson the other day, so I decided to read it.