Spectator Life

Joe Rogan is wildly popular with men because his podcast most closely approximates the way the majority of us speak, think and interact with one another. By turns funny, clever, stupid, thoughtful and irreverent, there is nothing else like it in the media. This means it needs to be cancelled. If you’re trying to organise a cultural revolution and bring down the patriarchy, the existence of The Joe Rogan Experience – a bastion of relatively guiltless masculinity that draws an audience of tens of millions of men three times a week – is unhelpful in the extreme.

A suitcase landed in my garden. It seemed to have come from the sky. Soon after, two policemen urgently knocked on my door. Confused, I invited them in, they hurriedly went to retrieve the bag. Inside was a load of money, drugs and keys belonging to expensive cars. They inquired if the items were mine. ‘Certainly not,’ I said. After they’d gone, I was filled with questions. That evening the policemen returned and I was interviewed for an hour. I asked them for more information, but they were unable to tell me anything. Drug deals occur regularly on our street. They happen in a flash; a hand through a car window, bowed heads and hushed voices. The flying suitcase incident added a touch of reality to one of my favourite past times which is crime fiction.

‘Nobody has stronger opinions about Joe Rogan than people who have never listened to Joe Rogan,’ is Edward Snowden’s view but I am the exception that proves the rule because the more I listen to him the more I profess my love for him. At points in the past year, the Joe Rogan podcast has been all that’s prevented me hurling myself out of the window with Elizabeth Day’s latest book. If you feel isolated and lonely in the post-lockdown world you might find yourself – among the legions of truck drivers stuck in cabs and Amazon workers waiting for robots to replace them – falling for him too.

Recently, at a London dinner party, I found myself sitting next to a beautiful young woman with a PhD in physics and a passion for bondage. At first I thought: I’ve hit the jackpot! Brains-Beauty-Bondage — here she is: wife number three! And then she treated me to a long monologue on the joys of bondage; the intricacies of knot-tying, bondage etiquette, arcane bondage practices from roughly the Middle Ages to the present (or so it seemed), plus her own bondage biography. Believe me, there’s no bore like a bondage bore. Granted, we boring old heterosexuals have our faults and our limitations. We lack glamour. We rarely bonk outside the box. But at least we can laugh at ourselves; we’re happy to recognize the comedy — and the tragedy — of erotic life.

My name is John Sturgis and I am a Wordle addict. It’s not quite heroin or crack cocaine but it did have me hooked within minutes of trying it. And I have been chasing the high that those first hits gave me ever since. Or at least, I was a Wordle addict. Just two weeks ago I was confidently predicting that this was a hobby that I would keep up on a daily basis until I went to the grave. I was completely sold. Today that seems a much less likely scenario. I hear of people who find it so easy they are now attempting it in French or Spanish Wordle was invented by a British geek, Josh Wardle, working in the US tech sector, the game’s name a wordplay, natch, on his surname. He launched it for family and friends last summer and went public in the autumn.

The 'American Downton' has just hit our screens in the form of The Gilded Age on HBO, a busty, curtain-heavy romp through the moneyed boudoirs of late nineteenth-century New York starring Cynthia Nixon and Christine Baranski. Written by Julian Fellowes, the man who has done more PR for the upper classes than the Windsors could ever dream of, the drama sets its sights on that most nebulous of concepts, American aristocracy. But wait, they don’t have an aristocracy, I hear you cry. Oh but they do, retorts Fellowes. Just look at all the upstairs downstairs drama, sudden destitution of young fatherless women a la Sense and Sensibility, and bitchy sniping in earshot of the servants.

After some lengthy troughs and fallows, iconic Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar is enjoying a purple patch with critical acclaim for 2019’s autobiographical Pain & Glory and his new picture Parallel Mothers. Star Penélope Cruz is tipped to have a good chance of winning the Best Actress Academy Award for her performance as middle-aged mother-to-be Janis Martinez. But if anyone believes that advancing years (he turned 72 last September) have tamed the provocateur, they should think again, as the film’s theatrical release poster (featuring a lactating nipple) was temporarily censored by Instagram.

The news that former England manager Roy Hodgson is the new manager of Watford Football Club at the grand old age of 74 has generated quite a lot of excitement. Much of it, of course, is focused on his age ­– 74 is undoubtedly old for a Premiership Football manager, particularly when you consider he’ll be three times the age of his players. Don’t forget that when Sir Alex Ferguson retired as manager of Manchester United in 2013 he was 71, which is positively Jurassic in the land of football. Hodgson’s even older. But we shouldn’t be surprised or indeed sceptical about this, because come 2050, chances are we’ll all be doing a Roy Hodgson. Not managing Watford, but working.

A friend told me awhile ago that whenever they saw my name they’d think ‘Oh no – what has she done to upset people now!’ I was mildly miffed at the time but, as a long-standing defender of Katie Price – the criminal formerly known as Jordan – this is invariably my reaction these days on seeing her name. Seeing her dressed up as a nun to launch her foray into OnlyFans, even I was moved to tut. As an admirer of KP’s sauciness and stoicism, I have watched her antics over the past few years with the feeling of growing dismay which I suspect many of my ex-friends feel viewing my own epic game of Snakes & Ladders with the English media.

You've got to hand it to Ozark, Jason Bateman's showy crime series about a slippery financial adviser who becomes immersed with Mexican drug cartels. In the years since its debut, the narco drama (whose final season arrived on Netflix last week) has been on somewhat of a journey. And then some. When it premiered back in 2017 – with an opening episode in which Bateman's character, Marty Bird, goes from sexless marriage to a near-death encounter with a drug kingpin – its shtick felt too obviously derivative to be taken seriously. Here was a drama, you felt, that had been commissioned for one purpose: to serve as Netflix's 'next up' show for viewers who'd just binged Breaking Bad and couldn't be bothered to reach for the remote.

There’s a school of feminist thought which says that women in the public eye should never have scraps with each other. I disagree. I don’t recall anyone ever commenting that when young black male rappers have big public beef with each other they’re being disloyal to the civil rights movement by refusing to speak with one united voice. But this is the way of the Woke. All other oppressed groups – riot! Women – be good little trans-maids and don’t report rapists to the police.

A friend told me recently that the only time she and her husband get passionate these days is when they are yelling abuse at each other across the cup-holders of their Renault Hybrid. He complains that she drives like an anxious old lady while she's convinced he's an entitled prat behind the wheel. During every mangled gear change, every junction missed, every failed three-point turn each reminds the other of his or her imbecility. It's all displacement of course – these disproportionate attacks are never really about whether one of you forgot to indicate. Outside the confines of their hybrid, the couple in question live a life of quiet, seething resentment just like the rest of us.

'An aristocracy in a republic is like a chicken whose head has been cut off; it may run about in a lively way, but in fact it is dead'. So said Nancy Mitford as far back as 1955 in her Enquiry into the Identifiable Characteristics of the English Aristocracy. More than half a century later, English aristocrats though – just about, even in the era of Prince Andrew – living in a monarchy, are still running about like headless chickens. This time, however, there are camera crews following them offering the entire thing up for public consumption on ITV’s new three-part series Keeping Up With The Aristocrats, the first episode of which aired last night. Are they dead? The jury’s out on that one but they do want you to know that they’re broke.

Billionaires (especially of the tech variety) are constantly in the news. From the ‘space’ exploration antics of Messrs Bezos, Musk and Branson to the guilty verdicts recently handed out to Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes and of course, the possibility of criminal charges against former POTUS Donald Trump (who still claims billionaire status, despite wife Melania’s current yard sale). Elizabeth Holmes will be the subject of Adam (Don't Look Up) McKay's upcoming biopic Bad Blood, with Jennifer Lawrence playing the suspiciously baritone-voiced grifter. Incidentally, Mark Rylance played tech billionaire Peter Isherwell in Don’t Look Up (2021), a character owing an obvious debt to the oddly enunciating trio of Musk, Zuckerberg, and Holmes.

'Johnson apologises for lockdown garden party' announced the Times on Wednesday. But did he? It’s quite a skill, the non-apology, and our Prime Minister is a non-apologiser par excellence, the Nureyev of not really meaning it. Academics working in conflict resolution have analysed what makes a good apology and come up with six elements: expressing regret, explaining what went wrong, acknowledging responsibility, declaring repentance, offering repair and requesting forgiveness. In response, I offer you here six ways to make sure your apology is as empty of content as a wine bottle after a Downing Street garden party: Make it conditional Or what the comedian Harry Shearer calls an 'Ifpology' (as in I’m sorry if…).

It’s become a bit trite to talk about the ills of social media. Hypocritical too, as such debates are often conducted within the very same arena of social media, which reminds me of the early eighties and adults telling me to steer well clear of smoking whilst lighting another superking off the one just going out. A less remarked upon social ill is the danger of ‘listening to stuff’. Hear me out. The last few years have been a golden age for audio entertainment: the explosion of podcasts, the popularity of audiobooks and those high production value documentaries that now ‘drop’ on BBC Sounds with all the pomp of the latest episode of Succession. The technology to produce this sort of output has been around a while.

Will the news that energy bills could double usher in a little common sense when it comes to our obsession with central heating? One of Britain's biggest energy firms has been forced to apologise after suggesting that thrifty customers might want to put on a pair of socks before whacking on the thermostat.  But we've only been namby-pamby about heating for a generation or two. Before then, we wrapped up warm, unashamed. Even when we’re told that Covid is far less transmissible with a bit of extra ventilation, you'd be thought mad for opening a window in the middle of winter. Our schools nowadays are like orchid greenhouses: the wall of heat greeting you as you walk in makes you wonder how anyone does any work at all. But open a window?

The 79th Golden Globe Awards take place on Sunday 9th January at The Beverly Hilton, Beverly Hills, California. The awards this year are not without controversy. The Golden Globes usual U.S. broadcaster NBC, together with various media outlets, actors, and other creative types say that they will shun the ceremony over the Hollywood Foreign Press Association’s failure to increase the diversity of the organisation’s membership. Most notably Tom Cruise handed back the Golden Globes he achieved for Magnolia, Jerry Maguire and Born on the Fourth of July. In response to this and other criticisms, in early May 2021, the HFPA announced a plan to increase membership with a 'specific focus on recruiting Black members' and resolving assorted 'ethical lapses'.

The beginning of January is a blank slate. A time where we feel a sense of excitement as to what the year will bring.  As each year rolls into a new one, my hopes for the future have included the usual – more exercise, more travel, more greens… Typically, I fail to keep to my promises. I asked my family and friends if they manage to stick to their resolutions. They don’t either. It doesn’t help that we live in a society obsessed with success. There's a fine balance between dreaming big and setting oneself up for a fall. I keep a box of my favourite poems, letters, old journals and unfinished stories. Within these stamps of the past, I can see paths not taken, disappointments, failures and mistakes.

As we count down the remaining days and hours to 2022, a cinematic tour through ten motion pictures when midnight has special meaning. Since Midnight Mass is celebrated on the evening when Christmas Eve gives way to Christmas Day, it makes sense that the hour is not associated with evil or supernatural goings on – except, that is, for St George’s Eve. In Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), Jonathan Harker is warned: 'It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway?

We're closing the year by republishing our ten most popular articles in 2021. Here's number four: Zoe Strimpel writing in February about how popular portrayals of the past are being changed to fit the present.  The first thing you notice about Bridgerton, Netflix’s big winter blockbuster set in Regency England, is how bad it is: an expensive assemblage of clichés that smacks of the American’s-eye view of Britain’s aristocratic past. The dialogue is execrable, the ladies’ pouts infuriating. But bad things can be good, especially when it comes to sexy period romps. Bridgerton is no different. The story follows the elder children of the Bridgerton family as they look for love in a utopian sprawl of courtly landscape and sociality.

The White Lotus https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkLeP3rLJdk Every now and then, you see a new series — Succession, say, or Chernobyl or To the Lake — which reminds you why you watch TV. The latest such joy is The White Lotus (Sky Atlantic), a darkly comic satirical drama created, written and directed by Mike White. It starts with an enticing hook: Shane (Jake Lacy), a handsome, moneyed, basic, mummy’s boy jock in a Cornell baseball cap is in a departure lounge being quizzed by a nosy couple about what we gather was the honeymoon from hell. Meanwhile, a cardboard box marked ‘human remains’ is being loaded into the hold of the aircraft. And where exactly is Shane’s bride?