Society

Welcome to Tivat, the ‘Monaco of the Balkans’

“Quiet luxury” is all the rage these days, the social media algorithms tell me. On Instagram and TikTok, Americans inform their followers that clothing with no visible branding is a true status signifier, before extolling the virtues of Barbour jackets and Loro Piana shoes. Aspirational people shouldn’t drive flashy new cars, they argue; instead, they should drive a 30-year-old Range Rover – as if the inevitable engine rebuild wouldn’t cost more than most people would spend on a car. When decorating, millennial gray is wrong, garish and uninteresting; everything must be sage green with brass accents. There is nothing more quiet and luxurious than the B&Q color-matching desk.

Gareth Roberts

Why progressives were desperate to believe Jason Arday

The Jason Arday affair has been a great revealer. On the one hand, it is a glorious romp that has brought much-needed mirth to Britain. On the other, the exposure of Professor Arday isn’t really about the guileless Arday himself, but the establishment that elevated him. It has served up a moment of unavoidable clarity in which the nonsense of progressivism stands exposed like the imperial scrotum. Arday himself can hardly be blamed for this scandal. Like Puff the magic dragon, he is notable only for the effect he had on others It is a perfect storm. We have a fantasist in an environment where, for political and social status reasons, everyone takes his claims at face value, or pretends that they do because to express doubt would be to invite unwanted attention.

Freddy Gray

My debt to Rod Liddle

Rod Liddle got me into journalism. We always had The Spectator lying around the house when I was young. I soon learned to turn to him first, as most good readers of the magazine do. My father and I would often read his columns aloud to each other and laugh ourselves into fits. That was Rod’s sublime talent: he made people LOL, long before the internet did. My first job was at the Catholic Herald, and my then-boss Damian Thompson advised me to improve my writing by copying out the articles of my favorite columnist. I chose Rod, obviously, though of course I could never dream of imitating his style or imaginative wit. I particularly enjoyed his fascination with "the nematode worm which stabs itself to death with its own penis.

The Spectator

Rod Liddle, 1960-2026

Rod Liddle, The Spectator’s associate editor, has died at the age of 66. Rod, who was also a columnist for the Sunday Times of London and Sun, died at the James Cook University hospital in Middlesbrough yesterday evening, following a short illness. His children, Wilder, Tyler and Emmy said in a statement: “We’re all very saddened and shocked at the sudden passing of our wonderful father. He raised us much as you might imagine, to be inquisitive, brave and always humorous. Even in hospital in the last few weeks, he consistently held the room and never let the awful situation show. He has left a legacy that we are all incredibly proud of, he will always be our guide on how to live an extraordinary life.

Sunday

August 2, 2026

Anastasia Brown

Gen Z is going back to physical media

One of my friends has never made her own playlist. “I just get on Spotify and use what the algorithm has made for me,” she says. “If I’m in a good mood, I ask for a ‘happy playlist’.” Then again, I also have friends who are going out of their way to make life less easy. Three of them recently purchased flip phones with no internet connection. Others have bought digital cameras to lug along to every event. CDs are popping up in the center consoles of some of their cars. Even ‘purchasing’ a movie or TV show on a streaming platform doesn’t guarantee your ownership Is this just an extreme extension of the Y2K aesthetic that has overtaken Instagram feeds?

Saturday

August 1, 2026

Peter Wood

What the Odyssey means to America

In 1899 Jack London, beginning his career as a writer, sold a story to Atlantic Monthly for $120. Drawing on his experiences during the Klondike gold rush and on the Yukon River, it was a tale of an Aleutian native wandering the Arctic for years on end in search of his wife, who had been stolen by a powerful Nordic sea captain. London titled his saga, “An Odyssey of the North.

Thursday

July 30, 2026

Andrew Tettenborn

Cambridge is coming out very badly from the Jason Arday affair

I’ve never met Professor Jason Arday. I don’t know whether he has genuinely run 600 miles in six days. I also genuinely don’t know the truth about the remarkable similarities between parts of his doctoral thesis at Liverpool John Moores, which helped propel him rocket-like up the academic greasy pole to a chair at Cambridge, and passages in a dissertation written six years earlier by someone at Brunel. From the parts of Arday’s output I have seen, I have found some fairly thin gruel It is undoubtedly possible that this is nothing more than an honest, if rather careless, omission to acknowledge earlier work: academics are, after all, proverbially absent-minded, and writing theses is stressful.

Wednesday

July 29, 2026

Matthew Lynn

FIFA should be allowed to sell off the World Cup

It will bring in outside investors, open the doors to global money, enrich a handful of inside executives and, perhaps most outrageously of all, might even involve the Trump family. The plans by FIFA, the governing body that controls the World Cup, to sell a stake in the competition, have drawn predictably condemnation, not least from the British Prime Minister Andy Burnham. But hold on. This is getting ridiculous. Soccer has become the preeminent global sport precisely because it has been so successfully commercialized – and it is too late to change that now. Soccer is about the most commercialized activity on the planet. A few outside investors will hardly change that The plans to sell a stake in FIFA are more complex than the offside rule as reviewed by VAR.

Monday

July 27, 2026

Alexander Larman

There’s only one reason Meghan Markle went on MasterChef Australia

Picture the scene. You have bravely battled onto the set of MasterChef Australia, hoping that your strawberry pavlova or similar hero dish is going to be the one that sends the judges into gasps of culinary ecstasy. Then the producers and host smile conspiratorially at you and reveal that the stakes (as opposed to steaks) have been raised. There will be a guest judge, they tell you, a figure who is “a global icon, a philanthropist, a humanitarian, a woman known around the world for her heart, her voice and her deep love for home cooking”. You draw a deep breath. Who on earth is this multi-faceted hyphenate, you wonder, an all-in-one combination of saint, queen and legend?

Brendan O’Neill

We should politicize the Berlin Pride attack

Of all the platitudes trotted out after an Islamist attack, the maddest has to be: “Don’t politicize this tragedy.” The bodies of our fellow citizens are barely cold before we’re being pre-emptively told off for “exploiting” their deaths for “political ends.” But it’s already political. When a religious hysteric takes up arms against innocents, that’s a political attack. ‘Don’t be divisive’ is a demand for self-censorship masquerading as a plea for social peace The “no politics” rule was swiftly enforced following the atrocity at Berlin Pride. The minute it was announced that the suspect was an ISIS fanboy known for mingling with other Islamists, the cry went out: “Don’t politicize this. Don’t let it divide us.

Friday

July 24, 2026

Mary Killen

Dear Mary: how should I have dealt with a seat thief?

Q. When guests are leaving our house they sometimes ask: “Would you like me to strip my bed?” The truthful answer is often: “No, because you are very clean and only stayed one night and I may decide to reuse your bed for one of the hulking slob friends of my son who stay.” But if I say this, the guest might wonder if they went into “pre-used” sheets. Worst-case scenario, they do not ask and turn up downstairs with an armful of bedding. What should I do? – C.W., Stoke Abbott, Dorset A. When asked by a guest if they should strip the sheets, reply: “Please don’t. Our daily has such little self-esteem as it is, she would really mind if you cheated her of the whole job.” Q.

Julie Burchill

Therapy speak is turning us into sissies

As one who’s always been keen on putting their hand up and admitting to their faults (a perverse form of boasting, I suspect) I was always suspicious of the medicalization of character flaws which apparently render us helpless in the clammy hands of Fortuna. It was bad enough when friends who’d generally always seemed highly capable jumped on the ADHD bus in later life, suddenly flinching at loud noises when they’d spent a good deal of their lives dancing to ear-splitting techno.

Sean Thomas

British men should lean into their evil reputation

I was about 19 years old and threatening to kill myself with a Bic disposable razor (not easy: I was bluffing) when I realized that Women Love Bastards. The revelation arrived like this. I was a heartbroken student, having been dumped by, ah, let's call her Emilia. For months I mooned about, bereft, wondering why Emilia had chucked me when I was so NICE – attentive, gift-giving, loyal. Then a good female friend – bless her wicked heart – took me aside and said: "Sean, girls don't like nice. They like a guy with swagger. Stubble. Slightly mean." She sighed. "I think we prefer bastards, if I'm honest." Putting down the razor, I picked up her advice, and I have used it ever since. I’m happy to say it works.

Dot Wordsworth

The muddle over vanishingly unlikely

When my husband asked me whether I knew any mathematics at all, I replied by telling him that I had been a properly brought-up girl. The cause of our little wrangle was the phrase vanishingly unlikely. A newspaper article on scams pointed out that “only a tiny minority of oil workers are women, meaning it is vanishingly unlikely to meet a real one online.” Another said that “Britain is vanishingly unlikely to meet NATO’s target of spending 5 percent of GDP on national security by 2035.” In both those examples, vanishingly is used in the sense “infinitesimally.” But the meaning properly wanted here is “hugely” or “almost infinitely” unlikely. It is the likelihood that is vanishingly small. The unlikelihood is very great.

Christa D’Souza

Should politicians have tans?

The cult economist Adam Tooze generally discusses matters far beyond my understanding on his podcast Ones and Tooze. While roasting in my flat during London’s heatwave, however, I found myself gripped by a segment he did on the economics of beach recreation. Did you know that 50 percent of Americans going on holiday regard getting a tan as more important than the actual holiday? This correlates with the rise of the “tanfluencer” and “tanmaxxing” among Gen Z and the revival of the full-on, George Hamilton-style tan. As a bit of an old tanorexic myself (remember, fellow boomers, the smell of Bergasol?), I’m quietly thrilled. First, because if this is a competition I will almost certainly win it – spot the brownest white person in the room: that’s me!

Rory Sutherland

How to save Britain’s train stations

As a more philosophical alternative to “You don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps,” you occasionally see workplace posters which read: “Price. Speed. Quality. Pick any two.” Unless you work on public infrastructure in the UK, of course, where the sign presumably ends: “Why not consult some lawyers and avoid all three?” In our despair over HS2 we should not forget that the UK has also seen remarkable transport successes In 1922, Trumpington, in South Cambridge, briefly had its own railway station. This was built to bring visitors to the Royal Agricultural Society’s show, which ran for five days, after which the station was demolished. Nearly a century later, it was sensibly decided that South Cambridge deserved a new, more permanent station.

Sean Thomas

Is Tainan the world’s most dangerous city?

In a country full of brilliant food, the Garden Night Market in sultry Tainan, southwest Taiwan, is still a standout: a cheerful riot of steam, umami, deep-fried tofu and loud, vivacious chatter. Families drift past in loose formation, grandparents hefting toddlers with fruit ices, flirting teenagers orbiting bubble-tea stalls, couples sharing hot skewers of squid, pork and chicken gizzards. Almost everyone plays lurid and inexplicable games involving teddy bears and claw machines. I eat sublime oyster omelettes slick with sweet chili pepper sauce, then hot soup dumplings that collapse into scalding, savory bliss. Someone presses popcorn chicken into my hand. It is dangerously moreish. The next morning, Tainan feels sun-blessed and unhurried.

Catriona Olding

Trapped with the plane passengers from Hell

Under late June’s ferocious heat dome, during what turned out to be an almost eight-hour drive to join Martin Vander Weyer and his guests for three nights in the Dordogne, my car was telling me it wouldn’t start due to a recurring AdBlue emissions fault. And my old phone was pegging out. At home I hadn’t had hot water – or cold – for five days because the boiler was broken. There was also a leak. I had to turn the water on and off at the mains when I needed it. Life was turning out to be more troglodyte than I bargained for. Although the water, when it ran, was chilly, my brain was overheating even before the temperature hit 111 degrees in the Dordogne. Like in the UK, I don’t have enough income or savings to cover all my bills.

Lloyd Evans

How has Tower Hamlets really spent my council tax?

How does Tower Hamlets spend my council tax? I’ve been shoveling cash at them for 19 years so I strolled along to the new town hall to find out where the money goes. The new town hall cost a packet, clearly. Carved out of the Royal London Hospital, the spacious lobby looks cool, stylish and reassuringly anonymous, like a private bank in Zurich. Glass doors swish apart and I enter the debating chamber where the councillors sit at a curved monodesk opposite the public gallery. Everything is slick and hypermodern. The pristine floor glows beneath the recessed lights. I had expected an ordinary meeting but I seem to have stumbled on an important debate.

Tali Fraser

The Welsh government’s mad decolonization plans

A teenager in Wales might want to play video games, hang out with friends or even, dare I suggest it, read a book. The Welsh government, however, would prefer they put on a headset and confront their “unconscious bias.” It has created a £1.2 million metaverse, the “world’s first anti-racist virtual world,” to teach Welsh teens about their “white privilege.” But this is only one element of an official commitment to end racism by 2030. Not today, not yesterday, but a specific year in the future. The idea for an Anti-racist Wales Action Plan – ArWAP – was born following fervor around the Black Lives Matter movement, and an official plan followed in 2022.

Matt Ridley

Turtle doves and the myth of rewilding

In the latest success story for reintroducing species to the British countryside, turtle doves, reared in captivity and released at three locations in Somerset and Devon last year, have returned to breed. Turtle doves have steeply declined in numbers, hanging on in the south and east of the country, but this scheme opens a new front in the battle to save the species as a British summer visitor. In May 2025, 244 captive-bred turtle doves were set free across three sites. Like others of their species, they spent the winter in Africa but a handful found their way back to southwest England this summer. Reintroductions like this are now all the rage among conservationists because it is a policy that can have spectacular results.

Charles Moore

Burnham’s solutions must not lie in the 1970s

Andy Burnham is right. The cost of living is foremost in people’s minds just now. Naturally his electricity bill VAT holiday and freeze of bus fares find agreement in television news vox pops and focus groups. But he offers no explanation for the causes and concentrates only on the symptoms. Obviously, the removal of the 5 percent VAT will be nice for consumers. But underlying inflation today relates to government debauchery of money and disruptions of supply caused by Donald Trump’s tariffs and his short war, by Vladimir Putin’s long war and Ed Miliband’s net-zero trap, which makes us pay expensive green levies and bans new domestic fossil-fuel production. The remedy does not lie in the 1970s-style pretense that things can be made cheaper by fiat.

Thursday

July 23, 2026

Olivia Potts

My quest for the perfect muffuletta

Everyone knows the story of the Earl of Sandwich: keen not to interrupt a late night card game at his club, he asked for roast beef to be sliced and put between two slices of bread, to allow him to eat it with his hands without stopping his game. And lo, the sandwich was born. But perhaps less familiar to us is that 140 years later, some 4,500 miles away from the Earl’s cribbage game, another problem was being observed, and was solved in a strikingly similar way. The turn of the 20th century saw an influx of Sicilian immigrants to New Orleans; almost 300,000 arrived in the city between the 1880s and 1920s, setting up shop (literally) in the French Quarter, in an area that became known as Little Palermo.

Steve Morris

Are you a party bore?

Some years ago, I managed to get an invitation to a very exclusive party. One of the guests was Prince Philip, consort to Elizabeth II, and some way into the evening he drifted over in my direction. He used the classic royal conversation opener: “Hello, what’s been keeping you busy?” “I work in marketing,” I replied. “Oh dear,” he said. He turned away and went to find someone more interesting. I was officially boring. That’s fine, because I have made it my lifetime’s work to seek out the boring at parties. Those who drone on, those who tell the same story over and over, and those with that odd nasal monotone that makes most people desperate to escape their company. I am not alone in this. C.S. Lewis did the same thing.