Alexander Larman

When I was younger, I once saw an Armani overcoat in the window of the company’s store in London and vowed that I would do everything I could to buy it. It seemed to me the quintessence of sophistication and style, being a beautifully cut, long, dark coat that flattered its wearer’s body shape and gave them the look of being classy and well-heeled. A year or two later, I was able to buy it in the New Year sales. I remember feeling like a million dollars every time I wore it. Perhaps as a precaution, I even bought another, inferior overcoat for everyday wear, so as to preserve my favourite.

Another week, another round of royal revelations. Following swiftly on from the publication of Andrew Lownie’s bestselling denigration of the Duke and Duchess of York – Entitled, there is now another tell-all account of the royal family: Valentine Low’s Power and the Palace. It has recently been serialised in the Times (appropriately enough, given that Low is that newspaper’s royal correspondent) and purports to offer a well-sourced and factually accurate account of the relationship between politics and the royal family over the past few years.

After years of dating effete Englishmen, Taylor Swift has finally found her man. The singer is engaged to Travis Kelce, that rugged all-American specimen of manliness. Their announcement has united the United States in joy: even her former nemesis Donald Trump rather surprisingly described the forthcoming union as taking place between 'a great guy [and] a terrific person.' But call me cynical: Swift's dating history has not just enriched her personal life – it has undoubtedly also helped advance her career. Her engagement is no exception.

There are certain names of puddings that, if whispered to an Englishman of a certain age, will bring back near-Proustian reveries about their childhood. Rhubarb crumble. Bakewell tart. Sticky toffee pudding. The most naughty-sounding of them all, spotted dick. These, and many more, are often dismissed with the sobriquet ‘nursery food’, but in fact only the most well-heeled of dessert-munchers would ever have enjoyed such fare in their nursery. In fact, they were mostly likely to have been encountered at various fee-paying institutions, firstly as a staple of the boarding school lunch or supper.

It has been one of the hallmarks of King Charles’s reign so far that, when he makes a commemorative or ceremonial address, especially when he is remembering Britain’s wartime victories, he usually manages to hit the correct note. He has become very adept at persuading even the most dyed-in-the-wool republicans that he is the right man at the right time. Therefore, when it was announced that he would address the nation in commemoration of the 80th anniversary of VJ Day – the grimmer, less obviously triumphal cousin of VE Day – expectations were high that the King would once again deliver. What was less expected was how personal the speech would be.

It is important for any self-respecting writer to admit when they get it wrong. So it is with an element of contrition that I must report that, despite my confident belief that the dynamic duo themselves, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, would not have their lucrative Netflix deal renewed, such an event has, indeed, come to pass. Amidst what must surely be the raucous sound of organic kombucha bottles being opened in Montecito in celebration, it has been announced that Netflix and Hal & Megs will be in business for another five years, giving the haters and naysayers ample reason to weep and gnash their teeth.

If you want one indication of the decline of Britain in 2025, it is the image that Tesco put out of their new, repellent ‘birthday cake’ sandwich, crowned with a single lonely candle. If you really despised someone, buying them one of these new sandwiches, which is essentially a Victoria sponge cake but in portable form, and offering it to them as a gift would be an effective way of indicating your disdain. However, for the rest of us, this unlovely marketing gimmick is yet another indication of how the honourable English sandwich, the office worker’s traditional lunchtime snack, has been debased and made ‘fun’. It is another reminder that the old adage that you should not play with your food is as relevant today as it has ever been.