James Innes-Smith is the author of The Seven Ages of Man – How to Live a Meaningful Life, published by Little, Brown
With so many of us forced to holiday at home this year, that most English of institutions, the country house hotel, has been experiencing something of a renaissance. The number of guests desperate for a slice of upper crust hospitality after months of slumming it at home has rocketed so you may struggle to book
Is it any surprise that research carried out by the corporation for its annual report found that more than a quarter of men feel that the BBC ‘no longer reflects people like me’? In a concerted effort to redress gender imbalance men are gradually being airbrushed out. Across much of the BBC men have become something
The Duchess of Sussex says she wants her father/son themed children’s book The Bench ‘to depict another side of masculinity — one grounded in connection, emotion, and softness.’ This assumes of course that men aren’t already connected, emotional and soft, which, as a touchy-feely kind of bloke I find a little off. Imagine if I
I would love to have been there at the original pitch meeting for Friends, ‘So yeah, it’s about a bunch of friends.’ Pitching The Office must have been similarly brusque, ‘It’s about some office workers working in an office.’ And The Simpsons? ‘Oh yeah, that’s the one about a family called… the Simpsons’. Like all
One of my favourite Alan Partridge moments — and there have been many — is the now infamous scene from I’m Alan Partridge, where north Norfolk’s most beloved DJ — Alan’s words not mine — is chased down a remote country track by a psychotic stalker. On reaching a dead end our hero leaps over a
Anyone over the age of 35 would be advised to hire a translator before rifling through the jobs section of the Guardian. Looking for a role in education? You will need a first in doublespeak just to understand what it is you are applying for. When I clicked on a listing for an ‘Infrastructure Support
All experiences are lived, of course, but it seems some experiences are more ‘lived’ than others. Truth has become a moveable feast. This may seem like a contradiction. But this is where we find ourselves. How you define the notion of truthfulness is yet another signifier of where you stand in the increasingly wearisome culture
Do 16-34 year olds still watch terrestrial TV? More importantly, will they still be watching in a year’s time when BBC 3 re-launches as a linear station? Six years ago, the youth orientated channel switched to digital-only as part of a £100 million cost cutting measure. Since then they have produced a couple of runaway successes
MeToo may have fundamentally shifted the way men and women interact, but that hasn’t stopped a musty, old turn of the century relationship manual from making a surprise comeback. In Sherry Argov’s 2001 bestseller Why Men Love Bitches, the journalist offers tips on how to bag a man. Her principal premise is a surprising one:
Britain has always prided itself on the rich diversity of its comedy output, from trouser splitting farce to cerebral satire but our genius for tickling the world’s funny bone has reached a crisis point – something has gone terribly awry. A new report on the BBC’s TV output from regulator Ofcom has classed comedy as
As culture and politics become ever more polarised, it’s tempting to retreat into the reassuring hum of our own echo chambers and positive feedback loops. But this reluctance to engage with ‘the other side’ can only corrode civil discourse. As regular readers of The Spectator will know, listening to opposing views in good faith allows
Now that we’re all stuck at home with our devices the temptation is to succumb to a vortex of internet clickbait in the vain hope that it will distract us until lockdown ends. But resist the allure of that cat video if you can and instead discover the rich seam of documentaries, lectures and long-form discussions with some of the
You could smell the stale popcorn and rancid carpet from the other end of the high street but that unmistakable Odeon odour always set my pulse racing. That was before we lost the vast art deco interior to corporate greed and short sightedness. The carving up of the beautifully ornate auditorium into three miniscule screens
The death of legendary axe grinder Eddie Van Halen is a sad reminder of how far rock music has fallen since those heady, head-banging days of the 1970s and 1980s when hairy, denim-clad blokes bestrode the earth, power-chording their way into our collective consciousness. Once the foundation of any self-respecting rock anthem, the obligatory guitar
39 min listen
As the long-awaited Russia report is released this week, we discuss Russia’s plan to unleash chaos (00:45). Plus, does Boris Johnson have a management problem with his new MPs? (14:30) And last, the pains of dating during lockdown (28:30). With Russia journalists Owen Matthews and Mary Dejevsky; the Spectator’s deputy political editor Katy Balls; Conservative
‘Diversity’ and ‘inclusion’ have become sacred doctrines within many of our major institutions, a religious fervour that has only increased since the senseless death of George Floyd. All across the globe, panicked corporations, desperate to be on the right side of history, have been rushing to meet demands for ‘systemic and structural change’, whatever that
This year’s International Conference on Men’s Issues was due to be held at St Andrew’s Stadium, the home of Birmingham City Football Club. But at the eleventh hour the club pulled the plug on the event after it was decided that a conference on men’s issues wasn’t something a football club should be aligning itself with. This isn’t
I had been in Los Angeles for less than a month when I received the call from a concerned neighbour back home in London. ‘Why are there men queuing up outside your flat at 3 a.m.?’ It was a good question. ‘And are you aware that a locksmith came over the other day to change your
On the anniversary of the Manchester Arena bombing all the talk has been of hugs and hearts; of healing and hope; of handholding and heroism. Newsreaders have spoken in self-consciously faltering tones about the resilience and defiance of those who have suffered so much. A choir sang Somewhere over the Rainbow. A minute’s silence, followed
‘Na-zi scum!’ Na-zi scum!’ ‘Na-zi scum!’ Who? Me? How come? I’m on my way to a genteel picnic in St James’s Park and appear to have strayed into the path of a virtue-signalling tsunami. A wall of raggedy demonstrators clutching anti-fascist banners inch their way towards me, faces contorted with self-righteous fury. ‘Move to the
