Spectator Life

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 war. Whether you see the subjectivity of lived experience as a progressive force for good or just another postmodern mash-up will depend on your age and political persuasion. Those who view experience through the lens of victimhood - mostly the activist young - tend to see objectivity as a tool of oppression.

The Union Jack is back. No TV interview with a government minister is complete without a flag and their departments have been ordered to hoist them above their offices. Soon our country will look like a never-ending Golden Jubilee street party, but with neither refreshments nor festivities. We’d all like a street party, but many are embarrassed by constant flag waving, especially when the flag in question is the Union Jack. The students of London's Pimlico Academy were so put out by the idea of flags that they even went as far as to argue that the Union Jack flying outside their school was an emblem of racism, demanding that the headteacher took it down. Since it's now the job of pupils and protestors to decide school rules, he duly granted them their wishes.

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 such as the all-conquering Fleabag, hence the decision to have another crack at broadening their appeal to a rapidly dwindling youth market where TV sets are a rarity and scheduling anathema.   Once it is up and running again in January will the channel be able to fulfil its remit by appealing to a broad spectrum of younger viewers most of whom have already switched to subscription platforms?

Next week marks the 40th anniversary of Hugh Hudson’s Chariots of Fire, the Oscar-winning true tale of Olympic glory which captured the affections of critics and mass audiences alike. Fondly cited by everyone from Maggie Thatcher to Joe Biden, parodied by Mr. Bean, beloved and bemoaned for its Vangelis score and heightened slow-mo cinematography, Chariots reliably jerks tears from most filmgoers of a certain generation. Yet, four decades on, the film has lost none of its vitality, even for the newcomer. Indeed, so far from being a faded relic of its era, it still crackles with a sharp and nuanced screenplay that offers particularly apt food for thought in a news age dominated by debates over discrimination, both racial and ideological.

Many of us have been watching in awe at the profound impact that Meghan and Harry’s Oprah interview has had on the fight against endemic injustice. There has been an outpouring of empathy for the Duchess's suffering at the hands of the British. Not only has she had to live through the public spectacle of a royal wedding, she has had to endure the indignity of public scrutiny every time she wishes to travel by private jet. This is not how a victim should be treated. The Duchess is riding on a wave of American support and has challenged one of the oldest institutions on earth. She shows us that the world can be turned upside down when the power of suffering is successfully harnessed.

If your genetic code survived the Pleistocene epoch, and prospered sufficiently that you find yourself reading this, I feel I ought to warn you that you are in great danger. For though the woolly marmoset and sabre-toothed sloth may be extinct, a new apex predator has emerged: human beings, or more specifically, other human beings. In this latest evolutionary cycle, they have turned cannibalistic, traversing great swathes of the webosphere at high speed to feast on their favoured delicacy: you and your opinions. Far from becoming a more civilised species, we are in the midst of an epidemic of cancellations. We have no dinner dates to bail on, so we cancel each other instead. It can be for almost anything — a racist sneeze here, a transphobic pair of shoes there.

He might now be one of the most powerful men in global media, but I find whenever I see a photograph of Nick Clegg, Orwell’s quote about everyone getting the face they deserve by 50 comes to mind. Now 54, the remnants of the boyish idealist are still just about there, but the eyes to me are ledgers of too much unhappy compromise – deadened, I always assume, by the principles he felt forced by David Cameron to sacrifice for personal advancement, and by the amazing decision to see out the remaining years of a career spent failing upwards as Mark Zuckerberg’s lavishly remunerated PR lickspittle. For a decade and more, Clegg positioned himself as the good guy of British politics – radiating sixth form actor star power at every opportunity.

It’s Mother’s Day and, once again, I muse on how little some friends really know one. I never expect anything in a friendship that I can’t return – hence I do not look for loyalty or kindness – but the only area in which I am ceaselessly short-changed is in the business of being seen as one truly is. Michel Polac may have opined that ‘To be loved is to accept to be mistaken for who you are not’, but I like someone who sees me clearly. You can slander my reputation and I won’t turn a hair (I’ll probably put you on the payroll), but if you dare insinuate at this time of year that I must be feeling mis because of my dismal record on that front, I will immediately dismiss you as a sentimental half-wit with the perception of a pit-pony.

The world is obsessed with clutter. Today, untidiness is seen as a moral failure and messy people are cast as incontinent reprobates lacking in all self-discipline. In his new book, Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life, Jordan Peterson tells readers that cleaning up their homes and offices is nothing less than a ‘moral obligation’. Brits seem to agree. Princess Anne was recently criticised and urged to declutter after viewers glimpsed her living room at Gatcombe Park, whilst Channel 5 is planning a new TV show in which Nick Knowles helps messy homeowners tidy up. With the end of lockdown in sight, UK charity shops are expecting a huge boom in donations as Britons rush to declutter.

As if the Labour party didn’t have enough to worry about with its withering opinion poll ratings, yesterday’s Times reveals that party officials are warning MPs of another potential danger: malicious TikTok parodies. The paper reports that Sir Keir himself is one of several Labour MPs whose names have been used by hard-left TikTok pranksters keen to cause trouble for the party’s Leadership. One user is apparently impersonating a shadow cabinet minister while using the antifa-linked slogan ACAB (all cops are bastards). Labour is now apparently lobbying the Chinese-owned video giant to remove the false accounts to avoid confusion. Well, quelle surprise really.