What could be more exquisite than the life of the professional gambler? I began my career in 2016 with a modest punt of £1,000 on the London mayoral election. Bingo. Sadiq Khan won and I banked a profit of £100. Then Brexit. My guess was that the pollsters had overestimated support for Remain and that
My friend replied to my text with seven sets of animal paw prints, interspersed with pink hearts and rounded off with a cat face. This was in reply to me telling her it had been nice to see her when she stayed with us in West Cork. I squinted at these emojis, trying to make
It was tasty, well-priced red Bordeaux last week and it’s tasty, well-priced white Burgundy this week. Don’t say we don’t love you. All we crave is your happiness and we work hard to attain that. By which I mean that I drink as much as I can on your behalf. Team player, that’s me. Mrs
In his independent review of the Prevent programme last year, Sir William Shawcross warned that something had gone very wrong with Britain’s counter-terrorism strategy. Instead of focusing on Islamism, Prevent was wasting its time investigating complaints of ‘far-right’ extremism from left-wing teachers, e.g. 14-year-old boys ‘caught’ watching TikTok videos of Nigel Farage. He has pointed
Q. I meet a very old and dear friend for lunch on a regular basis. We meet at a lovely family-run Italian restaurant in Charlotte Place in Fitzrovia because it is exactly halfway between where we both live. Over the years it has become rather beyond our means but we don’t like to break with
Où sont les bouteilles d’antan? For that matter, où sont les amis with whom one consumed them? These autumnally melancholic musings arose because a young friend asked me about Alan Clark. He had been reading the Diaries. Were they truthful? Was Alan really such a remarkable character? The answer was simple. An emphatic yes, on
Towards the end of the 1980s, Jeffrey Bernard, late of this magazine, sometimes used to wear grey shoes with jeans and a blazer. Those grey shoes, if ever fashionable, were out of fashion by then, like referring to young women as birds. But his writerly disposition once encouraged him to call an intimate acquaintance who
I think my earliest memory,pulling the tablecloth and tea-pot almost down on top of me, a sudden swirling in my eyes,a scattering of residues,enough to make that moment freeze the summer in our garden, musthave been when consciousness at lastpermitted time to be released. Perhaps those dregs then helped to feeda bloom still holding up
for Chris Spedding When most eyes still linger on the singer, he’s picked out of the shadows into a cone of light. No other way would he have it: More silver quiff than white, thank you, more Cochran, Vincent, defo more Elvis! Like a thing dug out of a plumber’s sack his brass slide
Holding the glorious heap of her black hair away from her head for the heat, the tall, young, I’m guessing Italian woman swivels her slender torso with such a sweet nonchalance that the no less glorious clump at her armpit is rendered unignorable. Degas might have done a sketch then and there, and Hardy was
As the joke goes, there are two ways to become a top judge. You can study law at university, then enter one of the Inns of Court as a trainee barrister, before embarking on a period of pupillage. If all goes well, you may be called to the bar. Play your cards right and you
