Ed Davey needs to grow up

Sir Ed Davey has released a Christmas single. No, really.

Called ‘Love is Enough’, it is, of course, all in aid of a good cause. The Lib Dem leader has joined forces with the Bath Philharmonia’s Young Carers’ Choir to raise awareness of the difficulties encountered by young carers – something Sir Ed has personal experience of.

You’ll forgive me for not reviewing the track itself because, as a heavy metal fan, I barely made it through the first 90 seconds. The issue, though, is not the lack of shredding guitar riffs but the ongoing lack of seriousness from a man who now leads the third-biggest party in the House of Commons.

In September, I wrote on these pages that voters who switched to the Lib Dems ‘will now want to see that their decision has gone towards electing a serious set of politicians, not a circus.’ My view has not shifted in the time since.

The Labour government, barely six months into its miserable reign, is a mess and has already lost its first cabinet member. Kemi Badenoch still has a lot of work to do to get the Tory house in order. There is political room for the Lib Dems to carve out space on the liberal, centre ground, but they are focusing on stunts instead of planting their flag there.

Not that Lib Dem MPs seem to agree with me. Tom Morrison told me that ‘as a former punk singer myself, I am fully supportive of Ed’s latest venture.’ The party’s deputy chief whip added that the song is ‘a great idea and not only will raise money for a great cause but will also drive more awareness about young carers who are some of the most vulnerable and sometimes most forgotten people in our communities. The whole thing should be applauded.’

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His colleague, former leader and current environment spokesperson Tim Farron, agreed. He pointed out that his boss ‘won’t be the first Lib Dem leader to have a chart hit’ – a reference to the autotuned remix of Sir Nick Clegg’s ‘I’m sorry’ statement. ‘It’s a very good use of his position and his authority speaking from a carer’s perspective,’ added Farron. (I note that the Lib Dems remain too cowardly to release the infamous video of Sir Nick miming along to Carly Rae Jepsen’s ‘Call Me Maybe’.)

In one sense, Morrison and Farron are right. The Lib Dems, and Sir Ed in particular, have done a genuinely good job of putting the issues around carers and the broader social care system on the agenda. However, it is hard to see that yet another stunt is a good way of continuing this serious debate. Sir Ed does have authority in this area and should therefore speak from that position. Indeed, the best part of the Lib Dems’ successful election campaign was a serious party political broadcast when the leader told his personal story, not when he was splashing around in a wet suit. They should learn from that.

Alongside all this, the Liberal Democrats are using their TikTok account to publish clips which, in recent times, can only be described as excruciating. Among other things, they involve the party leader dancing around in Christmas attire, challenging Sir Keir Starmer to matches on a football video game and mimicking that scene with cardboard signs from Love Actually. Sir Ed has also told the BBC’s Newscast that his advisers have now told him he leads the ‘Rizz Dems’. (Rizz, as I’m sure all Spectator readers know, is social media parlance for sexiness or charisma.)

Sir Ed does have a genuine sense of humour, but he is also a serious man who cares about serious things. By focusing on one, not the other, he risks becoming a joke – and that would be a terrible shame.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe these antics remain the right approach. I’m writing about them after all. However, gimmicks eventually lose their novelty value after a certain time, and carers, farmers and whoever else the Lib Dems choose to stick up for surely deserve a bit better than being used for attention-seeking stunts.

I’m not sure the public are going to tolerate this carry-on for much longer either. Recent polling from YouGov shows just 19 per cent feel ‘optimistic’, with 30 per cent feeling ‘frustrated’ and 39 per cent feeling ‘stressed’. Ongoing images of a senior politician clowning around are surely going to get on their nerves and backfire. The same pollster already measures Sir Ed’s approval at just 19 per cent, although his fame is at 77 per cent.

I don’t wish to be Scrooge. But if Sir Ed Davey and his party really want to raise important issues and bring about change, they need to get serious.

New MPs were more likely to back assisted dying

Does wisdom come with age? MPs have just voted by a margin of 55 to back a bill to legalise assisted suicide. In what was the first Commons vote on assisted death for a decade, MPs voted 330 to 275 in favour of the bill. 

The new intake of parliamentarians – those first elected in 2024 or returning after an enforced absence – were nearly twice as likely to back assisted suicide than any other intake.

You might think this is just because most of the new MPs sit on Labour’s benches. Well, perhaps. But this was a free vote on an issue of conscience so we wouldn’t necessarily expect it to fall on party lines.

With almost no other parliament experiencing the pleasure of so many new MPs, Mr S will be keeping a close eye on a group that is clearly going to wield great power for years to come.

Wishing you a joyless and guilt-ridden Thanksgiving

Elsewhere in the world, they just call Thanksgiving “Thursday.” But in the addled minds of some on America’s progressive left, it’s something far worse.

Joy Reid aired her “Thanksgiving message to MAGA trolls,” in which she discussed her “alternative” Thanksgiving idea for those who voted for Donald Trump: “Make your own dinner, MAGA, make your own sandwiches, wipe your own tears, troll among yourselves with Elon and leave us alone. You’ve got your heart’s desire: the president you dreamed of, and worship instead of Jesus.” 

Meanwhile, the Los Angeles Timesoffered an ode to illegal immigrants and Axios’s Russell Contreras published a piece about the myth of Thanksgiving — Contreras preempted the heat his piece created on X, having posted a few days prior about his decampment to the fever swamps of BlueSky. 

“Genocide,” Jewish Voice for Peace, a radical group in George Soros’s network, tweeted. “Land theft. Ethnic cleansing. Environmental destruction. Forced displacement of people from their homes, and sequestration into isolated areas with (artificially) scarce resources. Criminalization and surveillance.” That’s right, JVP is talking about Thanksgiving. 

The group, which posted an intimidating-looking graphic about “land dispossession” in Israel and America, advocated for Native Americans and for Palestinians to overthrow their conquerors via “right of return” and “#LandBack,” respectively. 

“On this day, Indigenous people and allies confront the settler-colonial narratives of ‘Thanksgiving,’ observing it instead as a National Day of Mourning,” the group wrote. “The whitewashed story of unity with the Wampanoag people — who have long lived in southeastern Massachusetts and eastern Rhode Island — obscures the true history and ongoing violence against Indigenous life.” Cheerful stuff. 

While the majority of elected officials of both parties are in the pro-Thanksgiving camp, Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib was the fly in America’s ointment once more. “This Thanksgiving, we mourn the Indigenous people killed by European settlers and the United States in order to steal their land,” she wrote. “From here to Palestine, we stand in solidarity with all Indigenous people as they fight for freedom on their own land.” 

Tlaib also posted a land acknowledgement of sorts, paying homage to “the Peoria, Anishinabewaki, Bodwéwadmi, Myaamia, Meškwahki·aša·hina, Wyandot, Peoria [sic] and Mississauga peoples whose land we’re on.” 

Not all progressives, Cockburn should note, were sourpusses this Thanksgiving season. Senator Bernie Sanders published a completely normal Thanksgiving post that paid homage to Norman Rockwell. That said, let’s wait and see what Tlaib and her pals do when Christmas and Hanukkah roll around…

MAGA Thanksgiving versus MAHA Thanksgiving

When you have a big family, Thanksgiving is a wonderful time to get everyone together, share a plate of turkey and reflect on all that you’re grateful for. Elon Musk, the X CEO and sire of many offspring, opted for a lower-key affair, however: he was spotted on President-elect Trump’s table at the Mar-a-Lago festivities yesterday, dancing to “YMCA” as he broke bread with his mother Maye, Melania and Barron Trump. 

On the opposite coast, prospective health secretary RFK Jr. showed how it’s done, gathering five of his children and his wife Cheryl Hines. 

RFK also offered an insight into how he keeps his turkey “healthy,” posting a video of him slowly deep-frying it in boiling beef tallow as Hines nervously watches on. Cockburn isn’t sure just how good idea it is to cook that close to a wooden crosshatch fence — but he can’t fault the look of the bird. Let’s all look forward to a seed oil-free celebration in a year’s time.

You will not regret inviting Cockburn to your Christmas party (he promises)

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful… DC is getting into the Christmas spirit already. Cockburn spotted a tree on New York Avenue well over two weeks ago — and last Friday we even got a sprinkling of morning snow. But the time of goodwill shall not truly be upon us… until the shindigs start.

Once again, Cockburn is offering his services as your seasonal scribe, your Capitol Hill Clement Clark Moore — he will document the misdeeds of your Christmas party, this year, as every year. Send your invitations to cockburn@thespectator.com and he will shoot down your chimney, dangling his baubles, to feast on your milk and cookies (or bourbon, if you have it).

He will be on his best behavior — or not, whatever your preference. Solicit away — it does keep this newsletter lively, after all…

DC gets the Jack Schlossberg lookalike contest it deserves

Around 500 or so brown-haired white women gathered in Meridian Hill Park Sunday afternoon for DC’s version of the recent viral “lookalike contest” trend. Their objective was ostensibly to find the best doppelgänger of Jack Schlossberg, TikTok sensation and grandson of JFK. Though many in attendance appeared to have another motive: becoming the next woman to mysteriously perish at the hands of a Kennedy after a fling. “God gave you everything but our numbers,” read one handmade placard. Toward the front, one of the organizers brandished an “I’m single” sign. “This is so silly,” she said, as the attendees and judges whittled down the contenders, through voice votes and Schlossberg trivia. 

Daniel Bonomo, a twenty-five-year-old Georgetown grad student, ultimately won out over the other white men and nonbinaries. “I’m gonna go watch Wicked now,” he told the crowd. He received gift cards and a cash prize. 

Not in attendance: Schlossberg himself, to the disappointment of many. Perhaps he was too busy gearing up for a week of flamethrowing Pod Save America on Instagram…

Will the assisted dying bill become law?

The assisted dying bill has passed its second reading. After an emotionally charged debate, MPs have voted 330 to 275 in support of private members bill – a majority of 55. It means that Labour backbencher Kim Leadbeater will now take her bill to committee stage for further scrutiny as parliament edges closer to giving some terminally ill people the right to end their lives in England and Wales.

This comes after weeks of debate and criticism, including within Keir Starmer’s own cabinet – with both the Health Secretary Wes Streeting and the Justice Secretary Shabana Mahmood voicing concerns over the bill, which would allow those with just six months to live to seek help to end their own lives.

So, will the ‘Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill’ now become law? That’s still not a given. The bill will now be subject to more scrutiny than today’s five hour debate could offer (more than 160 MPs requested to speak but time restraints meant this was not possible for everyone) with further votes to come. What’s more, some of the MPs who backed it today could oppose it later down the line. One of the most powerful arguments in today’s debate was the plea for MPs to support the bill to allow it to pass at second reading even if they had doubts – as these could be looked at later down the line. It means there will be an effort by sceptical MPs to develop the bill further and address various safeguarding concerns that remain.

As for how the free vote played out, 234 Labour MPs backed the bill compared to 23 Conservative MPs. For the noes, 147 Labour MPs voted against along with 92 Tory MPs. While a higher percentage of the Tory party is against the bill, the Labour party is clearly divided on the issue.

When it comes to the cabinet, Keir Starmer unsurprisingly backed the bill along with Chancellor Rachel Reeves and Home Secretary Yvette Cooper – the Foreign Secretary David Lammy voted against. On the Tory side, Rishi Sunak was the only former Conservative prime minister not to declare their stance ahead of the vote. He voted for the bill, along with former chancellor Jeremy Hunt. As the bill moves to the next stage, this marks a win for the pro-assisted dying lobby but the debate is far from over.

Full list: how the cabinet voted on assisted dying

This afternoon the House of Commons voted to support assisted dying for the first time. By a majority of 55, MPs decided to back Kim Leadbeater’s Private Members’ Bill, with 330 recorded ‘Aye’ votes against 275 ‘Nays.’ More than a third of the cabinet were against the move which the Prime Minister, Chancellor and Home Secretary all decided to support.

Some 234 Labour MPs voted for the measure, with 147 against. By contrast, 92 Tories voted against it, with 23 – including Rishi Sunak – backing the measure. The party most in favour was the Liberal Democrats, with 61 of their 72 MPs supporting Leadbeater’s legislation and just 11 against. Below you can see the full list of how each cabinet minister in the Commons chose to vote:

Aye votes (14):

1. Keir Starmer, Prime Minister
2. Rachel Reeves, Chancellor of the Exchequer
3. Yvette Cooper, Home Secretary
4. Pat McFadden, Minister for the Cabinet Office
5. John Healey, Defence Secretary
6. Ed Miliband, Energy Secretary
7. Liz Kendall, Work and Pensions Secretary
8. Peter Kyle, Science Secretary
9. Lisa Nandy, Culture Secretary
10. Steve Reed, Environment Secretary
11. Heidi Alexander, Transport Secretary
12. Lucy Powell, Leader of the House of Commons
13. Hilary Benn, Northern Ireland Secretary
14. Jo Stevens, Wales Secretary
15. Alan Campbell, Chief Whip

Nay votes (8):

1. Angela Rayner, Deputy Prime Minister
2. David Lammy, Foreign Secretary
3. Shabana Mahmood, Justice Secretary
4. Wes Streeting, Health Secretary
5. Jonathan Reynolds, Business Secretary
6. Bridget Phillipson, Education Secretary
7. Darren Jones, Chief Secretary to the Treasury
8. Anneliese Dodds, Equalities Minister

Abstentions (1):

1. Ian Murray, Scotland Secretary

MPs back assisted dying, but was the debate long enough?

The debate on assisted dying, which culminated in a victory for those in favour, hasn’t been long enough – we knew that from the start – but it has been a very good one. There have been some very powerful arguments on both sides. There has also been a division between those who think that voting for the legislation at this stage is merely a qualified agreement to let it receive further scrutiny, and those who see it as an endorsement, both of the principle and of the detail. 

A number of MPs who spoke in favour, including David Davis and Liz Saville-Roberts, nonetheless raised concerns with the drafting, with the latter saying she would vote against the bill at later stages if it did not receive the length of debate and scrutiny that it still deserved. Labour’s Marie Tidball similarly said she would be voting in favour for the bill to proceed to the next stage. She spoke powerfully from her own experience as a disabled person, and at one stage as a child in hospital telling her parents that she wanted to die.

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Tidball said this gave her a glimpse of wanting to live her death as she had lived her life. She said the bill was tightly drawn around the final stage of terminal illness for adults. But there were changes she wanted to see at committee stage, including strengthening the way the choice is presented, and embedding mandatory language in the bill around a code of practice on palliative care. She said she trusted Leadbeater to champion these amendments. 

Luke Evans, a Conservative doctor, spoke in favour of the bill by arguing that it was not an either/or choice between assisted dying and palliative care, but that in some instances palliative care was never going to be sufficient. Like another doctor who had spoken earlier, he cited the example of neck cancer and the inability of medical science to come up with a solution to the eventual dissection by the cancer of the carotid artery other than ‘dark towels for the blood’ and counselling relatives in advance of that event. 

Others, such as Labour’s Jess Asato, set out quite how pervasive coercion is within our society and how very poorly medical professionals and the judiciary have been trained to recognise it. Her speech and those of others highlighted the many inadequacies in our society when it comes to vulnerable people. But there were very few MPs who spoke today who had much confidence that this was at all a black-and-white issue.

Russia’s tanking ruble spells trouble for Putin

Russia’s ruble is in trouble. The currency has plunged to its lowest rate against the dollar since the weeks after the outbreak of war against Ukraine. On Wednesday, the ruble hit 110 against the dollar for the first time since 16 March 2022. The currency has recovered slightly, to 108 against the dollar this morning, but in Moscow people are worried.

Russians who lived through the tumultuous years after the collapse of the Soviet Union know all about the dangers of currency devaluation. While, clearly, things aren’t as bad as they were in the 1990s, the long memories of this period haunt Russians. This is a country where the currency has lost a huge chunk of its value in the past quarter of a century. It’s no surprise that, as a result, people follow the exchange rate closely and associate it with the economy’s overall health.

The current devaluation is far from catastrophic, but it’s a sign of a sick economy, suffering from both the enormously costly war against Ukraine as well as western sanctions.

The immediate trigger for the ruble’s drop this week came from the United States. On 21 November, the outgoing Biden administration sanctioned some 50 Russian banks and financial companies, including Gazprombank, which serviced payments for gas exports. This created a dollar rush. But make no mistake: the ruble’s devaluation has been on the cards for some time.

While Russian president Vladimir Putin had done his best to shake off sanctions against his country’s financial system, these are starting to bite badly. The share of the ‘unfriendly’ currencies, which includes dollars, euros, pounds and every other currency issued by Ukraine’s allies, in Russia’s revenue from exports has declined from the beginning of 2022. As a result, there are far fewer dollars to buy, driving up the value.

Western sanctions also prevent carry-trade or a flow of cheaply-borrowed dollars into high-interest-bearing rubles. Previously, a drop in the ruble’s value increased import prices and, consequently, inflation, which the Central Bank combated with a rate hike. In the past, when the ruble was fully convertible, foreigners rushed into the Russian market following devaluations in anticipation of a rise in the Bank of Russia base rate. Now, this is simply not possible due to sanctions. Thus, this means there are even fewer dollars in the market.

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The sanctions’ effects don’t end there. Since December 2023, when the US started targeting financial institutions servicing Russian exports and imports with secondary sanctions, the cost of cross-border operations has risen constantly. This has resulted in a rise in import prices and a decline in export revenue, thus tilting the exchange balance towards a weaker ruble. 

Then came a strengthening of the dollar and a decline in oil prices following Donald Trump’s presidential victory, delivering Russia fewer bucks for every export barrel. 

At home, fiscal spending increased in the fourth quarter as the government injected previously allocated but unused budgetary funds. It’s a regular occurrence, although this year’s numbers were higher than in previous years, creating an overhang of rubles.

In October, the government allowed exporters hungry for dollars for their operational activities to repatriate a quarter of their foreign exchange revenue rather than half previously. This deprived the market of even more dollars.

The sanctions against Gazprombank followed, along with a rising demand for dollars in anticipation of further shortages. The Russian currency tanked without the foreigners, with fewer dollars to buy and an oversupply of rubles.

The rate drop will raise inflation, the scourge of the Central Bank. Previously, a cheaper rouble would have boosted domestic output as consumers switched to homemade goods and services from more expensive imports. However, the Russian economy is overheated and lacks the capacity to increase production. So, the inflationary effect is higher than before 2022.

A 10 per cent drop in the exchange rate can now be expected to raise inflation by about 0.5 percentage points, compared to around 0.2 in happier days. The Central Bank of Russia, mandated with taming inflation, has few options to react. 

It can’t hike interest rates very far from an already painful 21 per cent, as this would risk causing non-military producers to slow to stagnation and flirt with bankruptcy. It can’t directly intervene in the foreign exchange market, as half of its reserves have been frozen since the outbreak of war in 2022, and its stash of dollars is much smaller. 

At the same time, the Bank doesn’t have the luxury of relying on China’s supply of renminbi. China has shown zero appetite for providing liquidity and swap lines to its ally. 

So, the Bank of Russia has so far done the most straightforward thing: it temporarily stopped buying foreign currency from the market, as dictated by the Russian fiscal policy of moving additional oil revenue to the rainy-day National Wellbeing Fund. This provided some support to the ruble but didn’t remove either the causes of the devaluation or the threat of the inflation uptick.

The most reliable arrow remaining in Moscow’s quiver is for Putin to kindly ask exporters to sell more of their foreign exchange revenue for rubles. But that would deprive them of much-needed resources to finance their sales. 

It’s becoming all-to-clear that there are no good remedies for the Russian economy’s malaise apart from ending the war; the mother of Russia’s problems.

Ireland has been living beyond its means for far too long

Today, an Irish election takes place which has seen parties from the left, right, and centre seek to outbid each other in making extravagant electoral promises. 

While Irish government over-spending on vanity projects is nothing new, recently public service profligacy has risen to entirely new heights. €350,000 was forked out on a bicycle shed for parliamentarians. It seems it won’t even protect their bicycles from that most common form of Irish weather: rain. 

A children’s hospital that was scheduled to cost €650,000 is now running at €2.2 billion, and it’s still not finished. And the daddy of them all, a proposed metro link from Dublin airport to the city centre is currently estimated to cost between €2.3 billion and €9.5 billion – what could possibly go wrong? Its opponents fear that the true costs of this infrastructure project could end up making HS2 look like a model of financial planning and probity by comparison.

Yet the fiscal foundation upon which this lavish public sector spending spree is based has ‘flight risk’ written all over it. With 60 per cent of Irish corporate tax revenue coming from just ten US multinationals, Ireland has always been extremely vulnerable. Then three weeks ago that risk exposure became dramatically worse with the election of Donald Trump.

Still two months out from being sworn in, Trump is already roiling international markets with his nightly tariff tweets. He has been signalling a Savonarola-like determination to make a bonfire of the trade vanities by tackling US trade imbalances.

Irish political leaders are extremely concerned that the incoming President could kill the golden goose that lays the Irish corporate tax revenue eggs. This week on the election stump, Taoiseach Simon Harris admitted the scale of the risk facing Ireland: ‘If three US companies left Ireland it could cost us €10 billion in corporation tax.’

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American administrations have long-standing concerns over what are seen as Irish tax shenanigans and the resulting massive trade distortions. 

In 2015 Irish GDP jumped by an eye-watering (some said, magical) 26 per cent. Such spectacular GDP growth rates merely required a few extra planeloads of Viagra from Pfizer’s Cork plant and some bulk transfers of software licenses from Microsoft in Dublin. At the time, this phenomenon was dubbed ‘leprechaun economics’ by Nobel economics laureate Paul Krugman.

When he was chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, Democrat lawmaker Charlie Rangel, used to launch regular broadsides against the iniquities of the Irish corporate tax system which he claimed was ‘stealing’ US tax revenue. Yet nothing was done about it because Irish lobbying in the US has been hugely successful. That is due in part to its very close affinities with the Democratic party elites, such as the Clintons.

That type of shamrock-and-shillelagh diplomacy also worked extremely well during Joe Biden’s presidency. It is very unlikely, however, to cut the mustard with the incoming Trump administration.

Indeed, his Commerce Secretary nominee, Howard Lutnick, has already pointed the finger at Ireland saying, it is ‘nonsense that Ireland of all places runs a trade surplus at our expense.’ 

It may still be too early to assess how Trump’s trade turbulence will affect the Irish economy, but, so far, the omens are not good.

Are MPs rising to the assisted dying debate?

What are MPs actually debating today? Some of them seem a bit confused. We have had two hours so far of the debate on the second reading of Kim Leadbeater’s Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill, and a number of them seem to be talking about entirely different  things. Some are poring over the detail of the legislation, with Leadbeater pointing to the safeguards she has had written into it, and Danny Kruger arguing that some of the definitions of the people who can act as a proxy for patient are too loose, meaning that there is still a risk of abuse of the legislation. But then, there have been others who have wanted to argue about the principle of the legislation, rather than what is written in it.

A classic example came from Layla Moran, chair of the  health select committee. She is in favour of the  bill, though didn’t want to talk about it in detail. Instead, she said:

I will be voting for this bill today because I want this conversation to continue now… there will be members who will be making the moral case today, and I want to hear them, but to those MPs who might be minded to vote for it on principle but are worried about the details about how we might change a word here, or the role of clinicians or MPs, or whatever it may be, may I urge them to reconsider the question they’re asking themselves today. This is the second reading the media is asking all of us, are you for or against this bill? I would urge you to think of this question differently. The question I think we and I will be answering today is, do I want to keep talking?

She was interrupted by James Cleverly, who objected that ‘we are talking about the specifics of this bill. This is not a theoretical discussion, it is about the specifics of the bill’. Moran replied that his query about why the bill was being denied to children if it was a positive should be ‘put in bill committee at later stages’. This is a misreading of the legislative process, but it is entirely understandable within the context of the way MPs normally approach legislation. Their arguments throughout tend to be about the principles at stake, not the drafting of something they’ve never read. They rarely consider the details of what is written, because they rarely need to: when following a party whip, they have the luxury of being able to trust that someone else has thought about the specifics. Today, they are all alone and having to make up their own minds. 

In general, the impact of being left to make up their minds has had a galvanising effect on MPs. Their speeches so far have largely been very good and considered on both sides. Some have drawn on their own expert experience from working in the healthcare sector: once again, both in support of and in opposition to the bill. The speeches have also been very moving, as you would expect. All MPs have cited examples of people at the end of their lives to back up their arguments in favour and against the legislation. There have been some quite tender moments where a member has grown emotional while talking about a loved one, and a colleague has intervened on them to give them a chance to collect themselves. 

Leadbeater also tried to emphasise that she wanted as much scrutiny as possible in the following stages, saying she was minded to move an amendment that would allow the bill committee to take evidence from experts. Others argued that if parliament defeated this legislation again today, it would be another ten years before parliament had a chance to debate this. Some opponents, such as Rachael Maskell, tried to repeat the framing of the debate back in 2015, which was that if MPs couldn’t conclude beyond reasonable doubt that this was a safe bill, they should vote against. The view of the Commons is not clear yet from the speeches, and neither is it fully clear that everyone speaking understands what they are supposed to be doing. 

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What if assisted dying turned out to save lives?

Who would envy being an MP today when called upon to vote on a matter of conscience: the assisted dying bill? The issue cuts across party lines, and so whichever way they vote they will offend a good proportion of their own voters. But on the other hand, for once they are being trusted to use their own judgement rather than hiding behind party whips. That, surely, must be liberating.

And which of us can say we haven’t found ourselves feeling that we must come down on one side or the other? I have a feeling that, were I in the House of Commons, I would still be wavering as I approached the lobbies. There is something deeply disturbing about assisted suicide. The British state stopped executing people 60 years ago; it feels odd that it might again seize the power to take life, even in circumstances where that is what people want.

You only have to look at what has happened in Canada, Belgium and the Netherlands to see the truth behind the ‘slippery slope’ argument. What started in Canada as something which could only be undertaken where death was reasonably foreseeable rapidly evolved beyond that. Assisted dying in those countries has been extended.

I would worry, too, what victory in the assisted dying vote would mean for abortion. The pro-abortion lobby would take it as a sign that Britain was inexorably moving away from fuddy-duddy pro-life arguments and towards the full decriminalisation of abortion – which involves terminating the lives of humans who very much don’t get a say in the matter.

So for all those reasons I am a ‘no’. Yet still there is a niggling argument in the back on my mind: what if assisted dying actually turned out to save lives? It is an argument we haven’t heard much over the past few weeks, although it has popped up on previous occasions when the matter has been debated. Whether or not society sanctions assisted suicide, unassisted suicide will always be with us. However good is palliative care, or however effective the tremendous work of the Samaritans, there will always be people who will choose to take their own lives in order to save themselves from suffering a drawn-out terminal illness. For many, it is not just a question of pain and loss of faculties but the loss of independence. But anyone who is minded to take the quick route out faces a choice: do they do the deed now, while they can, or do they risk waiting until it is too late, when they have lost the ability to do so? Were they to know that assisted suicide would be available at a later point in their illness, it might well make people less inclined to take their lives.

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I am reminded of the case of Chris Woodhead, the former Ofsted chief who in 2009 announced that he had been diagnosed with motor neurone disease. Initially, he suggested that he was not minded to live out the progress of his disease. He became a campaigner for assisted dying, saying: “I am clear in my own mind that it is better to end it than continue a life that is extremely frustrating for me and onerous to others who are living with me.”

He added: “The truth is I would be more likely to drive myself in a wheelchair off a cliff in Cornwall than go to Dignitas and speak to a bearded social worker”.

Yet Woodhead never did drive his wheelchair off a cliff. He died in 2015 aged 68, at home. Having clearly contemplated suicide while he could, he ended up seeing out his disease. I never knew him and don’t know what quality of life he had in his final years. But if the comfort of knowing that assisted suicide were available at a later date dissuades able people from taking their lives that seems to me a rather good thing. I am not sure that it would be enough to make me march through the ‘ayes’ lobby, but it is an argument which deserves to be considered.

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Does anyone know how many people live in Britain?

Can Britain trust its economic statistics? The nation’s arbiters of numerical truth, the Office for National Statistics, yesterday released what on the face of it was good news for the Home Office and a vindication of the previous Conservative government’s policies to reduce worker visas and the number of dependants of migrants arriving in the UK. But in truth – and in the same data dump – the previous year’s figure had been revised up so much (by 307,000) that had it not been, the net migration figure published yesterday would have matched the previous record high.

These revisions matter. Douglas McWilliams, founder of the Centre for Economics and Business Research, calculates that the new figures mean the previous June population estimate changes by a large enough amount that the second quarter fall in GDP per capita may be twice as bad as officially estimated (from 0.3 per cent to 0.6 per cent). Changes in population impact how we view our economic history.

Of course, there’s always going to be a margin of error when it comes to migration – or any statistical estimates, for that matter. And huge underestimates in migration figures are nothing new. The campaign group ‘the3million’ operated on figures that suggested there were three million EU citizens living in Britain during Brexit. But in the end, the true figure turned out to be closer to six million.

During the pandemic, too, vaccine data suggested we didn’t know how many people lived in the country. Vaccination coverage rates in some areas reached more than 100 per cent. How? Because more people were vaccinated than existed in the official population figures used to calculate the rates: clear proof that the UK population has repeatedly been undercounted. Other records from the NHS have found that, as of September, there were 63 million patients registered to GPs in England – yet the official population is 57 million.

Jobs data – arguably far more important to Britain’s economic prospects – is potentially error-strewn, too. Swati Dhingra, a member of the Bank of England’s rate-setting committee, criticised the country’s labour market statistics this week, saying: ‘I grew up in India. There are a billion people there. We managed to get the labour force survey answered… I don’t find it particularly plausible that that’s hard to do.’

Her comments refer to problems with the ONS’s labour force survey, which has struggled, since the lockdowns, with poor response rates which render the data produced from the survey unreliable. ONS statisticians are working on a ‘transformed’ version of the crucial survey, but reports suggest it could take until 2027 for the improved version to come into effect. It could be that there may be more staff in the workforce than official figures suggest.

Some blame the ONS’s move to Wales in 2007 for the chaos. When it happened, nine in ten London-based staff chose to leave their jobs rather than move to Newport. A review by economist Sir Charles Bean found that ‘the loss of statistical expertise which resulted from the relocation decision has had a significant – though not necessarily permanent – detrimental effect on the capability of ONS and the quality of its output’. I think this was unfair then, and now: the ONS staff in Newport are some of the best and brightest working in their field (though I should declare that my first foray into serious employment was at the National Records of Scotland – the ONS’s tartan sister).

The issue, I think, is in large part due to changes in working practices brought about by the pandemic. The ONS stopped going door to door for many of its surveys, relying instead on online responses and telephone calls. In Scotland, this approach led to what many would call a completely failed Census. A year-long delay and an over-reliance on online, rather than in-person, methodologies led to Scotland’s census being released 444 days after England’s, and with a response rate of just 89 per cent – well short of the 94 and 97 per cent achieved in England and Wales respectively.

For policymakers, rate setters and businesses to make proper decisions to guide our country’s economy we need robust, reliable and trusted statistics. Investment may be necessary for the ONS to get boots back on the ground and return to more reliable door-knocking methods for surveys and data gathering. It won’t be as simple as that. But whatever the solution turns out to be, it is a problem that can no longer be ignored.

Why I voted against the assisted dying bill

Why would anyone vote to prolong the suffering of others? That is the question that bears heavily on me and my colleagues as we prepare to vote on the private members bill to legalise assisted suicide today. It is with a heavy heart as a progressive that I will be voting against the bill.

Reducing suffering is part of the reason people take part in public life. This is especially the case, if you believe as I do, in enabling people to have more control and autonomy over their lives. 

Earlier this month, I held a ‘listening event’ about assisted dying in my constituency of East Thanet. It was an emotional experience. Many people are clearly traumatised by having to watch their loved ones suffer. 

I was deeply moved by the personal and emotional stories of love and loss people shared with me. Many more have shared their experiences by email. I will take all this with me when I enter the voting lobbies today.

I know the difference a planned for and supported death can make for the family of a person with a terminal illness. My own grandfather died in a hospice surrounded by his family and at peace. I would hope that we can achieve that for those who need and want it. 

However, we also need to be mindful of practicalities when we legislate. This is not just about those with loving families and friends – we also have to protect the vulnerable from bad actors. 

How will the law apply to those who do not have full capacity, such as those with learning disabilities or the mentally ill? How will the law protect those who consider themselves a burden, even if the law provides protection for people from external pressures? And what happens if the care options a person wants are not available, and so they choose assisted death instead? 

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This is a serious issue at this time. The NHS is in a parlous state. Palliative and hospice care is in no better a position. Hospice UK says the sector’s finances are the worst they have been for 20 years, with many providers forced to cut services, close patient beds, and make staff redundant.

I am hugely concerned that vulnerable people will be left in the unacceptable position of factoring the quality of care they might receive into a choice about whether to end their own life. I cannot simply overlook that reality because I am sympathetic to the broader principle of allowing people greater choice.

In California, where assisted dying is legal, the law kicks in when people are deemed to have six months to live, as is proposed here. That is also the time when Medicare means you will have your hospice costs covered. We have no such reliable coverage here. If we care about dignity, these practicalities matter.

I am also considering the impact on those who care for the dying, including doctors and nurses, as well as family and friends. The testimony we have heard tells us that doctors involved in the assisted dying process find it extremely traumatising. These are people who deal with death every day. This is not an argument against the law, but we should be aware of its implications. 

I cannot say that I will not change my mind about assisted dying in the future if the state of end-of-life care improves. But right now, I cannot vote for a change in the law while palliative care is in such a parlous state. I genuinely cannot tell which way the vote will go today. But right now, I have made up my mind that Britain is not ready to legalise assisted dying, which is why I will be voting against.

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Three bets for tomorrow and a Welsh National tip

As regular readers of this column will know, I often like to back horses from up-and-coming yards, rather than the big stables, in the search of value. A progressive horse is often much bigger odds than he (or she) should be simply because it hails from a yard that is rarely in the spotlight.

With this in mind, I am hoping that the consistent mare OOH BETTY will outrun her odds tomorrow for the Dorset yard of Ben Clarke in the ultra-competitive Coral Racing Club Intermediate Handicap Hurdle, better known as the ‘Gerry Fielden’ (Newbury, 2.25 p.m.).

There was plenty to like about her last run of the season at Cheltenham in April when she was not disgraced behind Jeremy Scott’s Festival winning mare, Golden Ace. There was even more to like when, after wind surgery, she made her seasonal debut at Sandown earlier this month and comfortably defeated her six rivals.

Ooh Betty has been raised 6 lbs by the handicapper for that fine effort but she may have more improvement in her. Clarke has a strike rate of 25 per cent for the season and has had his string in good form over the past fortnight (two winners from seven runners for a strike rate of 29 per cent). Ben Jones, who rides most of the handler’s best horses, is in the saddle tomorrow too.

Clarke has already proved he knows how to place a good horse to win a top prize: The Galloping Bear, for example, won the Surrey National for him in January 2022 and then went on to be a close second in the Eider Chase at Newcastle just over a year later.

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However, the best handicapped horse in tomorrow’s contest could well be Harry Derham’s QUEENS GAMBLE, who had her last season curtailed by injury. Her official mark of 130 looks lenient but she has been off the course for the best part of a year.

However, with the ground drying out and therefore more in her favour, I am happy to take a chance on her fitness. Back Queens Gamble 1 point each way at 7-1 with Coral or Ladbrokes, both paying four places.

BOWTOGREATNESS has long been highly thought of by his handler Ben Pauling only to disappoint on the racetrack, including at the Cheltenham Festival in March. However, he showed plenty of zest for the game when winning a five-runner handicap at Newbury on his seasonal debut three weeks ago.

He defeated a well-backed horse of Kim Bailey’s, Destroytheevidence, and that form looks decent. Pauling said after that win, ‘Bowtogreatness lost the know-how to win a race, but I think he’ll come on a ton for winning. He jumped brilliantly and he’s a very nice horse.’

Still rated only 133, Bowtogreatness can win again for joint owners Harry Redknapp and Pauling’s wife, Sophie, when he contests the BetMGM Rehearsal Handicap Chase tomorrow (Newcastle 3.20 p.m.). Back him each way at 11-2 with William Hill, paying four places. At one stage in his career, this eight-year-old gelding was said to prefer soft ground but he seems to prefer better ground as he has got older. The trip of a shade under three miles should be ideal for him too.

Of those at bigger odds in the race, expect an improved run compared with his last effort from Richard Hobson’s Some Scope, who disappointed at Cheltenham on his seasonal debut (pulled up) in October but who has now had wind surgery.

I have already put up my bet for tomorrow’s Coral Gold Cup in the form of Broadway Boy at 10-1, four places and he could even go off favourite tomorrow at nearer half those odds. I was tempted to go in double-handed in tomorrow’s big race of the day with Galia Des Liteaux. However, Dan Skelton’s mare would prefer softer ground and half a mile further so I will leave it at just the one bet.

But I can’t resist backing a horse at big odds in my favourite handicap chase of the season: the Coral Welsh Grand National at Chepstow. Indeed, if I knew that this horse would run to his best, I would keep backing him every day from now to 27 December.

However, since running a superb race in a red-hot running of the Ultima Handicap Chase at the Cheltenham Festival in March 2023, MONBEG GENIUS has continued to be frustrating due to a mixture of setbacks and poor runs. Last season, Jonjo O’Neill’s eight-year-old gelding was pulled up twice in his four runs and was third and fifth in his other two.

However, there was plenty to like about his seasonal debut at Haydock when second behind Fontaine Collonges earlier this month and he is on a lovely official mark of 144 for the Welsh National. He had an entry in the BoyleSports Becher Chase a week tomorrow but I would expect him to swerve that race in favour of a crack at the big Chepstow prize after Christmas.

We know Monbeg Genius loves Chepstow and we know he will relish the likely soft ground at the track. Back him each way at 20-1 with either SkyBet, Paddy Power or Betfair, all paying four places, and hope he stays sound for the next month.

Pending:

1 point each way Ooh Betty at 14-1 for the “Gerry Fielden”, paying 1/5^th odds, 5 places.

1 point each way Queens Gamble at 7-1 for the “Gerry Fielden”, paying 1/5^th odds, 4 places.

1 point each way Bowtogreatness at 11-2 for the Rehearsal Handicap, paying 1/5th odds, 4 places.

1 point each way Broadway Boy at 10-1 for the Coral Gold Cup, paying ¼ odds, 4 places.

1 point each way Gaboriot at 10-1 for the Becher Chase, paying ¼ odds, 4 places.

1 point each way Monbeg Genius at 20-1 for the Welsh Grand National, paying ¼ odds, 4 places.

Last weekend: – 2 points

1 point each way Ahoy Senor at 6-1 in the Betfair Chase, paying 1/5^th odds, 3 places. Unplaced. – 2 points.

2024-5 jump season running total: – 13.2 points.

2024 flat season: + 41.4 points on all tips.

2023-4 jump season: + 42.01 points on all tips.

2023 flat season: – 48.22 points on all tips.

2022-3 jump season: + 54.3 points on all tips.

Tories take poll lead over Starmer’s Labour

Kemi Badenoch’s Tories have overtaken Labour for the first time in three years on The Spectator Data Hub’s poll tracker. This morning’s update gives the Conservatives a one-point lead over Keir Starmer’s Labour after a steady upward trend since July’s election.

Steerpike wonders how much is down to Rishi Sunak's surprisingly successful stint as leader of the opposition, Badenoch's first few weeks in the job or Starmer's ever sinking satisfaction ratings. The leftie leader now finds himself with more than half the country seeing him 'unfavourably' and with a net satisfaction rating of -29.

Meanwhile, Mr S's gambling friends note that both Badenoch and Starmer only have 50/50 odds at the bookies' of leading their parties into the next election. Has that ever been the case for both party leaders before?

Will Ireland’s fed-up voters punish the Taoiseach in the snap election?

Will the elections taking place across Ireland today result in a whole new government? Not really, is the conclusion most Irish citizens seem to be coming to. ‘It’ll be the same two main parties in government – nothing will change,’ one hospitality manager notes reluctantly, nodding to the current three-party coalition in the Dáil of the centre-right Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil with the left-wing Greens. ‘Ireland likes a moderate government,’ another voter added. ‘Anything that’s not radical.’ 

The current Taoiseach, Fine Gael’s Simon Harris, saw his popularity soar by 17 points to 55 per cent just months after he replaced Leo Varadkar in March. His party is expected to take enough seats to enter into another coalition with Micheál Martin’s Fianna Fáil – and with the number of seats in the Dáil increasing to 174, a third party will likely be needed again to reach the required government-forming majority of 88. Frustration about the lack of housing and calls for childcare and health service reforms are key priorities in this poll, while immigration remains a bugbear across the country – something independent contenders have been keen to capitalise on. And so while voters may not expect an entirely new government set-up, the progress made by smaller parties will be much more telling about the shift in the electorate’s mood. 

For their part, Harris’s lot is not expected to outdo their last result: widespread cynicism about the current Irish government and politicians in general has led to concerns of the impact of voter apathy on this poll. Despite the Taoiseach’s positive personal ratings, Fine Gael has suffered an exodus of longstanding politicians and is leaning heavily on Harris’s personal ratings, opting instead for a presidential-style campaign which splashes Harris’s face most prominently across its signage. Whether it is working is a different matter: the final Ipsos B&A poll for the Irish Times puts Fine Gael in third place with voters on 19 per cent, down six points, while support for Sinn Féin and Fianna Fáil has jumped by a point or two respectively. 

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Opposition politicians and dissatisfied voters have sniffed at the current government’s ‘glitterball’ budget, announced only a month before Harris called the snap poll. ‘The handouts are there to sway people,’ says a bartender in Dublin’s Temple Bar district. ‘It’s given folk a pre-election boost so they’ll vote favourably, but it’s full of one-offs. They’ve promised to better address the concerns of the [hospitality] industry – if they get back in.’ Fears of a low turnout are regularly heard in grumblings about the timing of the election, with the three-week long campaign period regularly cited as a reason for the lack of engagement from both voters and parties. ‘I’ve only had Fianna Fáil leaflets through my door,’ laments one voter, while Dubliners remark on how the campaign efforts of independents are more noticeable than those of mainstream groups. 

And there are certainly some interesting independent candidates running, with the capital city alone offering voters a fascinating selection. In Dublin Central, constituents have the option to back convicted criminal Gerry Hutch, currently bailed from a Lanzarote jail, who has, with a degree of irony, called for better policing and more guards. Although an unlikely candidate, it is thought ‘The Monk’ could perform well with the city’s socially deprived communities fed up with the status quo. Former MEP Clare Daly is also competing in the constituency against Sinn Féin leader Mary Lou McDonald as a left-wing independent. Given her high profile and general likeability, it is thought she too could hoover up a lot of the area’s anti-establishment vote. 

Meanwhile right-wing groups are approaching this election with more strategy than in previous polls: social media has become key, with activists regularly posting on Telegram channels to help corral support for their candidates. Several parties heralding the ‘Ireland for the Irish’ slogan have also come together under the National Alliance umbrella so as not to split the right-wing vote in each constituency. Not that everything has gone without a hitch. The anti-immigration movement recently faced pressure after a bizarre fallout over the ownership of €400,000 (£330,000) of gold bars saw National Party leader Justin Barrett quickly ousted. He has now formed a rival far-right group, Clann Éireann.

Smaller parties and independents are expected to benefit from a growing resentment towards mainstream politicians in the Emerald Isle. The Greens have been lauded for their contributions in government, while Ireland’s Labour party has been described by political lecturer Professor Gary Murphy as ‘bullish’ about their prospects. Some minority parties have floated the idea of forming a left-wing bloc to enter the Dáil in coalition with Fine Gael, but the Taoiseach has already rubbished the idea of a six-party coalition.

Sinn Féin is interested in the proposal – but it is not thought likely that, if it came to it, the smaller far-left parties would be all that keen to join forces with McDonald’s lot. Her party performed well in this year’s local elections, but support for the progressive group has more recently stagnated and it is thought unlikely Sinn Féin will get near government this year.

The dissatisfaction with mainstream politicians has been a defining element of this election campaign and ultimately the real story of this election will lie with the small political parties and the gains – or losses – they make. The outcome of today’s vote may not change Ireland’s political set-up all that much, but its citizens certainly don’t want things to remain the same. Housing, homelessness and the perception of a declining quality of life are issues that have plagued the outgoing government and they will continue to present significant challenges for the next. The lack of progress made on these issues by Ireland’s new government after this election will only serve to embolden the country’s colourful cast of independents at the next.

Louise Haigh’s resignation raises questions for Keir Starmer

Keir Starmer is one cabinet minister down. This morning Louise Haigh resigned as Transport Secretary following the revelation that she had pleaded guilty to a criminal offence in 2014. Haigh admitted fraud by false representation at a magistrates’ court after she incorrectly told the police that a work mobile had been stolen in 2013. She was then convicted and received a conditional discharge. The incident occurred six months before she became an MP.

Announcing her resignation this morning in a letter to the Prime Minister, Haigh said she remained ‘totally committed to our political project’ but had concluded it would be ‘best served by my supporting you from outside government’. Notably, Haigh states that Starmer was already aware of the fraud conviction. In response to her resignation letter, Starmer has replied:

‘Thank you for all you have done to deliver this government’s ambitious transport agenda. You have made huge strides to take our rail system back into public ownership through the creation of Great British Railways, investing £1bn in our vital bus services and lowering cost for motorists. I know you still have a huge contribution to make in the future.’

The comments clearly leave the door open for a return to frontline politics in the future. Starmer knew about the conviction prior to the press reports on Thursday. Haigh is understood to have disclosed the conviction when she was first appointed to his shadow cabinet. As the conviction has now been spent it is no longer on her record. Haigh has made clear her regret over the incident and the advice she was given at the time on how to respond.

It does raise the question of Starmer’s judgment. If he was fine with it when it was not public knowledge, did he want Haigh to remain in post? Or did he want her to go after the press reports – and Haigh would have been pushed if she had not quit of her own accord? Is the problem her spent conviction or that the story is a ‘distraction’? The feeling of some in the party is it was clear her position was untenable so Haigh has done the right thing by going quickly. The hope will be that the story now goes away.

However, the Tories are already going on the attack over the revelation that Starmer knew about the conviction. A Conservative party spokesman says: ‘In her resignation letter, she states that Keir Starmer was already aware of the fraud conviction, which raises questions as to why the prime minister appointed Ms Haigh to cabinet with responsibility for a £30bn budget?’ The story will now move to questions over the judgment of the Prime Minister.

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How the Groucho lost its lustre

This week, the Groucho Club in Soho had its licence suspended by Westminster Council after a request from the Metropolitan police, who are investigating a ‘serious criminal offence’ said to have taken place on its grounds. Beyond ‘serious’, the crime has yet to be specified. But one thing is certain: the Groucho has gone down (at least temporarily) in a hail of bad vibes, all the famous fun and games grinding to an infamous halt. 

I used to be a member of the Groucho, having taken advantage of its offer for under 30s. I spent much time carousing in its seductive, plush interiors. Kate Moss talked to me once on a boozy festive evening, telling me how much she loved panto. A friend and I drunkenly offered to buy Jon Hamm, aka Don Draper in Mad Men, a cocktail (he refused); on another evening we had a very long evening with Andrew Scott, aka (at the time) Moriarty in the Sherlock with Benedict Cumberbatch. I saw Stephen Fry there, and kissed several famous men.

But over time, the Groucho lost its lustre. I stopped seeing the toast of Primrose Hill, Hampstead and even Hollywood in it, and instead noticed a constant stream of what looked like reality TV stars and people who worked in marketing, advertising, PR, and other forms of media business. When it stopped being what it had always been – a home for actors and writers; a British institution, in short – I began to notice the cost of drinks and membership more. 

Slowly I stopped enthusiastically suggesting to everyone that we met at the Groucho, or trying to persuade those who weren’t sure to go there because it was so fun. Part of it was that I got older and began to lose the taste to let my hair down in quite that way. Another was that I left London for a year to pursue a masters degree. When I returned, the place just wasn’t as good. And so after another year of hoping it would become great again, I resigned my membership.

I have not joined another club since, though not because it has not been suggested, especially by friends who are themselves members of, say, Soho House or the grander ones in Mayfair and the Mall – and not because there is not an appealing sense of saying: ‘meet me at my club’.

My reasoning is this. Clubs are nice, but you have to be in a certain financial place to sustain the breeziness required of always paying for your guests’ big nights out, as is unavoidable at most of the real classics, without being tortured afterwards by whether they pay you back in kind or in cash. Have a friend for a glass at the Carlton Club or the Garrick (now open to women), and it goes right on your account, no menus or prices in sight. When I join my elderly friend Paul, a long-time reader who is now in his 80s, at the East India Club in Mayfair, the straitened gentleman must bankroll my curry (or my sandwich, depending on where we dine).

Clubs, one begins to realise, are also just a bit odd. Is there a problem with drinking with friends in public? I have no problem with elitism and elites but social exclusivity has always made me uneasy; perhaps as I was never in the inner circles, or the very coolest groups, at school or university. It is very nice to meet interesting people and a wide array of them, but is it the case that the most interesting people can afford to, or are drawn to, joining private members’ clubs? I suspect interesting people can be found elsewhere. And so can PLU ‘people like us’. 

Professionally, there are obvious uses to clubs – networking in media circles at Soho House, or politics at 5 Hertford Street. The Groucho was more about watching a carnivalesque world go by and having lots of daring, flirty, frank encounters, but it was also about drinks to impress. Personally, I made no professional contacts there, but I always thought I might.

But when it comes to enjoying an evening with friends, I can see no reason why a club is any better than a pub. The atmosphere and tipples available at a cosy old pub are unrivalled. The world goes by in pubs too. The beer is delicious. There is Champagne to be had, and crisps, and sometimes decent food. Nothing is more convenient than a pub – unlike the journey to Mayfair or Shoreditch for most people who live in normal places. 

It is informal. No need to worry about no-trainers rules. And it’s egalitarian: a round goes noticed as an act of generosity, but nobody has to fork out long-term so that they can be seen in social splendour and their friends can drink at their side. 

The truth, of course, is that when I am asked to drink in someone’s club, I gladly accept. The vain and eager part of me is as present as it is in anyone else – maybe even more, due to those teenage years of acute social insecurity. But am I willing to beg leave to pay good money to belong to a court of peacocking? Not right now, at least not in Starmer’s penurious Britain, and not while there are still pubs on most good corners in Britain.

There’s nothing radical about flying the Palestine flag

I have a confession to make: when those Maccabi Tel Aviv fans tore down a Palestine flag in Amsterdam a few weeks back, I let out a little cheer. Yes, I know the boisterous lads did other things in the Dutch capital that were definitely bad. The left never tires of telling us what thugs and brutes these young Israelis allegedly are. But that one act, that tiny revolt against the omnipresence of the Palestine colours in the cities of Europe – that I welcomed.

For two reasons. First, because it made perfect sense to me that Israelis might feel vexed and possibly even distressed by the sight of this flag flapping from the balcony of every smug residence in the capitals of this continent.

After all, this was the flag under which hundreds of their fellow citizens were raped, tortured and murdered just a year ago. To the fashionably Israelophobic of the Euro activist classes, waving the Palestine flag might just be a convenient way to prove your moral worth to your fellow intimates in right-thinking society. But to Israelis the flag can prick awful memories of the worst slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust. I connected with the passion with which those young fellows dragged down that flag. Thuggish? Maybe. Understandable? Definitely.

The second reason I yelped with approval is because there are just too many of these flags now, right? They’re everywhere. Take a walk round London and you’ll see more Palestine flags than Union flags. You might even see more Palestine flags than Pride flags. If someone from the 1950s got time-warped to London 2024, their first remark would be: ‘Sh*t, we got conquered?’

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The Palestine colours are inescapable. The middle classes drape them over their shoulders when they bravely take a break from Saturday brunching to march against the Jewish State. They flutter from lampposts. There isn’t a campus in the land that is not adorned in the red, black, white and green of Palestine.

There are TikTok videos advising the young on how to ‘Palestine’ their outfits. How about matching a red beret with a green blouse and black trousers so that everyone you encounter will know what an amazingly moral person you are? 

Don’t get me started on the keffiyeh, the uniform of the self-righteous, the sartorial signifier of political rectitude. There are posh white kids out there who spent years howling ‘Cultural appropriation!’ at people like Katy Perry for putting her hair in cornrows who now parade through the streets dressed like Arabs.

Now the trade unions are encouraging people to show up to work in the Palestine colours. Yesterday was ‘Workplace Day of Action for an Immediate Ceasefire in Gaza’. The TUC (Trades Union Congress) says workers should wear ‘red, green [and] black or a Palestinian keffiyeh’. How about taking photos to ‘share on social media’, it suggests. Of course. That’s the whole point of donning the Palestine colours: to take a preening pic and put it online.

This has got to be one of the TUC’s worst ideas ever. And that’s saying something. What about our Jewish colleagues? Do their feelings count for nought? Some on the left scoff at the idea that Jews might feel offended by the sight of the Palestine flag. It’s a scoffing that would carry more weight if it wasn’t coming from the kind of people who take fright at everything from un-PC jokes to gender-critical feminism. Listen, if you can feel offended by JK Rowling referring to people with penises as men, then Jews can feel put out by the flag under which a thousand of their co-religionists were butchered last year.

I know what people will say: displaying the Palestine colours is a way of showing solidarity with a beleaguered people. I don’t buy it. I think these ubiquitous flags – these eyesores, to be frank – have far more to do with us than with Palestinians. Not content with commandeering the keffiyeh and making it the hot must-have of polite society, now the left seizes the Palestine flag and makes it a thing the city elites might hang from their windows so their neighbours will know they’re Good.

It’s less about solidarity than a kind of cultural supremacism. Like the Pride flag, the Palestine flag has become a banner under which the influencer classes outline and enforce their supposedly superior beliefs. Its omnipresence feels oppressive. First and foremost to Jews, but also to those of us who’ve long since tired of our towns and cities being turned into soapboxes by an activist class that loves nothing more than impressing its moral dominion over us little folk.

There’s an ironically conformist bent to these ostentatious displays of the Palestine colours. Radical? Come off it – it’s the means with which one proves one’s worthiness for the dinner-party circle. If you want to be radical, wave the Israel flag. People will splutter and rage and manhandle you. They will grab your flag and run off with it. They will destroy it like some Dark Ages hysteric burying a blasphemous icon. Try it – it’s wonderful.

The Groucho Club died years ago

On hearing that the Groucho Club has been closed after the Metropolitan Police alleged ‘a recent serious criminal offence’, I felt a shiver of something I wasn’t quite sure of – one part sorrow, one part joy, shaken over ice-cold memories and served straight up. To some, the Groucho might have been some poncy private members’ club but for me – from 1985 to 1995, between the ages of 25 and 35 – it was where I struck deals and enemies, fell in love with pretty strangers and went off those to whom I had promised to be true. The Groucho is where I became ‘Julie Burchill’, for better or worse.

As a shy, provincial, working-class virgin, I’d always dreamed of being a famous writer in That London – I slept beneath a map of the Tube whereas other girls favoured pin-ups from Jackie magazine – but though I got there at 17, I stupidly married the first man I had sex with and allowed him to lead me back to his Essex hometown, where I tried my best to be a decent person for a few years. But it wasn’t meant to be and by 1984 I was having an affair with a young boulevardier who lived on the King’s Road and spent his evenings in the West End. One day we were rendezvousing in Soho’s Colony Club, at 41 Dean Street; as we left, we passed an old townhouse at number 45 being revamped – it was the Groucho Club. There was something in the air that day, and not just lust; I decided to run away with him then and there. Within weeks I was back in London, with a second chance at making it. Without the Groucho, I’m not sure it could have happened as spectacularly as it did.

We thought it would be a place for old rogues to talk about their glory days – and indeed, Jeffrey Bernard was a fixture, hiding from various publishers who had given him advances for the same book – but within weeks of opening, media twenty-somethings like myself were spending most of our leisure time and a good deal of our working time there. The big newspapers were keen to hire us upstarts from the pop and style press, and huge amounts of money were washing around. Then there was the newly enshrined institution of all-day drinking – the 1988 Licensing Act permitted pubs and bars to open from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m., whereas before they had to close between 3 p.m. and 5:30 p.m., breaking any attempt at a session. It was hard to say where business ended and pleasure began. To save time, we did both at once.

It’s ironic that the club was named for the saying by the most famous Marx brother (‘I don’t want to belong to any club that would accept me as a member’) because although I styled myself Queen of the Groucho Club (cringe!) I never actually joined. I was taken on as something of a mascot; I was rich, generous and polite – a lovely combo – and I made friends with the staff quickly. Most of them were older than me and perhaps felt protective due to my squeaky voice and reckless ways, but the tips didn’t hurt.

I’d sometimes go there three times a day: make my son breakfast and see him off to school, have a line and put on some lippy and cab it over for a breakfast meeting with an editor, go home and write a column, back there for lunch with a publisher, cab home and write a chapter of my dirty book Ambition, welcome my son in from school, make tea for him, play video games with him and put him to bed with a story, settle the babysitter in and then off for the evening’s entertainment. Oh, those Wild West Wonderland evenings! My media set was soon joined by the Young British Artists (Damien Hirst putting his £20,000 Turner Prize money behind the bar for free drinks for all), Britpop groups (Blur were the house band) and assorted alleged ‘comedians’ (including the one who, when drunk, was forever flashing something that looked like a penis – only smaller), all accompanied by more lines than W.H. Auden’s face. It might have looked cliquey from the outside but, as with the Swinging Sixties, there was no nepotism and a great deal of meritocracy – unlike these days when the lively arts have been colonised by the posh. This was my life for ten years; I enjoyed it so much that even though these were the glory days of travel journalism and I was offered numerous First Class jaunts, it never even crossed my mind to go on holiday – I was living the dream and I didn’t want to miss a thing.

Of course, you saw a nasty side to some people, as everyone was so ‘relaxed’ among their own kind; my antipathy to ‘National Treasures’ was formed at the Groucho, based on the horrible way many of them behaved towards the staff, especially a famously unfunny pair of clowns, whose marriage is now no more. (Their divorce was the only thing they did that ever made me laugh.) But I could be a bit of a high-handed and hard-hearted hustler myself; I was forever getting my husband to ‘have a word’ with famous people who sat at my table hoping to exchange a bon mot (or drugs) with me, and ‘remove’ them from my table if they didn’t get the hint. It was easy to get big-headed if you were favoured; once, I pitched up late with my retinue to find all the tables taken. After a few minutes, the manager and a brace of waiters swept in carrying a table aloft, which they proceeded to set up for my gang, pushing occupied tables aside. I saw that scene years later in Goodfellas.

Still, it was an extraordinarily easy-going place to be, especially considering so many egos were present, which is why the news of police involvement came as a shock. I presumed that it must be drug-related, but that puzzled me too; drug use was very open there – it was almost like we had diplomatic immunity. There was a ‘no drugs’ rule in theory – but the nickname of one upstairs room, the Peruvian Procurement Department, made a nonsense of this. One man came back to my table and said, ‘Would you believe it? I just saw a man urinating in the cocaine room.’ For me, the club’s growing hypocrisy about drugs – marked by the blackballing of Toby Young for daring to write about the copious use there, in 2001 when Matthew Freud took over the club – was when the rot set in.

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Sour times were just around the corner. Two years ago my once-beloved drinking compadre, now bitter enemy in the culture wars, Zoe Williams, wrote in the Guardian: ‘The peak of the Groucho Club was the Julie Burchill era, before she went hell-for-leather anti-woke, when she used to do nice things, such as giving £20 notes to homeless people. This was the late 80s, early 90s, when those were the people we lionised, the ones who were kind to people on the streets, not the Bullingdon Club tradition of burning £50 notes in front of them.’

One unfortunate incident revealed the entitlement of the new wave of members, more likely to be actors than hacks; whereas I gave money to the homeless, in 2007 Alan ‘Jonathan Creek’ Davies bit the ear of a homeless man outside the club who wanted only to shake his hand: ‘He suddenly went for my left ear. It was incredibly painful. I shrieked and my eyes were watering. He hung on and drew blood.’

Of course, the Groucho has been ‘ruined’ more times than my nostrils. In 2016 a letter from a dozen old-timers to the manager complained that the club had ‘lost its unique feel’ and become ‘too corporate’ and that new members were not from ‘the traditional media/arts background’. A current member told me: ‘They’ve gone hard on private events, so often you can’t get a seat, which sort of defeats the point of the whole thing.’ Another complained: ‘It’s full of old people – sixty-somethings going off to the loos to do coke. They’ve been desperate to try to get young people in, but the young people they’ve got are kind of weird. I saw Alex James from Blur in there the other day with his son – they both had the same haircut, the one he’s had since the 1990s, which made me feel sort of sad.’

I would say this, at 65, wouldn’t I, but I don’t think the anxiety and sobriety of the young generation ever helps get the party started, and sure enough, the old members have complained about the young members using the club as a workspace rather than a speakeasy. (In my twenties, contrastingly, I once described it larkily as ‘a youth club with sex, drink and drugs.’) It’s always the way, though, with places of public fun: first come the interesting people, then come the beautiful people, then come the rich people, then come the posh people – and it’s done, because posh people are oxygen-stealers. I can’t help not wanting to be in the same room as Princess Eugenie, unrepentant talent-snob that I am.

When the company Artfarm bought it for £40 million two years back, it was bound to become respectable. But not respectable enough, apparently – I’ve been told that the alleged offences aren’t anything to do with drugs, but are very serious indeed. Whatever the outcome, it’s a bitter irony that we louche guttersnipes were never accused of being involved in anything but the most juvenile and self-harming of misdemeanours while the new ‘respectable’ Groucho stands accused of being the location of one of the worst crimes imaginable. In a statement sent to members on Friday afternoon, the club said:

Reports that a serious crime may have taken place at the Groucho have been widely circulated. At this stage we would like to take the opportunity to both assure you and confirm that the club (or indeed its staff or members) are not considered a suspect in any allegation of serious crime.

The club took the decision to voluntarily close its doors for practical reasons for a short period of time following agreement with the council that there should be a temporary suspension of our licence. We are working on matters relating to some of the licence conditions.

Inevitably there has been some misinformation circulating. As soon as we have any further information we can share with you, we will of course do so.

Whatever the club says, it seems unlikely to reopen any time soon. I can’t say I’m sorry; I loved the Groucho – it was my office and my playpen for a solid decade when I experienced enough fun, love and money for nine lifetimes – but it died a long time ago, when the bohemians left and the businessmen took over. The police inquiry seems merely part of the last rites. Its passing makes me think of something Cyril Connolly (who would surely have adored it there) once said of our culture in general: ‘It is closing time in the gardens of the West and from now on an artist will be judged only by the resonance of his solitude or the quality of his despair.’ Or indeed, as in the blissful days of my gilded youth, his ability to put £20,000 behind the bar without turning a hair.

Bring back suet!

Stir-up Sunday may be behind us, but it’s not too late to make your Christmas pudding – and do you know what that means? Yep, sourcing decent beef suet. Suet is the king of fats. It adds to the pudding’s keeping quality, texture and flavour. My recipe calls for half a pound of suet (see below for the recipe in full – it was my great-aunt’s) but the good stuff is hard to find. You can get pellets of suet in a packet from supermarkets, but the real thing, grated into light flakes, is another story: much nicer and lighter. Some inferior recipes suggest butter instead, but good as butter is, it just doesn’t cut it for a Christmas pudding.

Suet is the hard creamy fat around the beef kidney. The best bits come in solid lumps; if you get suet that’s too intermingled with membrane it’s harder to grate. When it’s fresh it has a delicious smell (as far as I’m concerned) and a slightly pinkish colour. It should be grated, I say, rather than chopped, for lightness. A Christmas pudding made with suet and old beer is a thing of beauty and it will keep for months.

So, what’s the problem getting fresh suet? Most big abattoirs nowadays take the kidney suet out of the animal – presumably to sell to the packet suet company – and if your butcher doesn’t specifically request it, he won’t get it. You’ll look for it in vain in supermarkets. H.G. Walter, the upmarket London butcher, does ask for it, and gets it separately from the rest of the carcase. Charlie Hinds there observes that it has increased in popularity recently with restaurants and keen cooks, probably because of the renaissance in British cooking thanks to chefs such as Fergus Henderson.

It makes a lovely dripping (for which I’d just use the scraps) and has a high smoking point (so burns less easily than other fats). If your supplier kills his own beasts, you’re in business; I used to get it from my friend at the farmers’ market, who’d throw it in for nothing, but nowadays you can expect to pay at least a fiver for 500g. You can get it online if you don’t have a butcher.

Suet used to be the default ingredient for British puddings, notably steak and kidney, but sweet too. We can argue whether a nice log of plain suet pudding, boiled, in a puddle of golden syrup has the edge on a jam roly poly and whether a Sussex pond pudding (with a whole lemon plus sugar and butter in the middle) beats both, but really in winter, we should be eating all sorts. You can, if you try hard, find good steak and kidney pudding in old-fashioned restaurants such as Rules, but it takes a chef with a sense of tradition to get it out there. And let’s not forget dumplings, delicious in a stew or stewed apple.

I could add: eat responsibly, because it’s the kind of fat cardiologists warn you against – but you know that. It’s time, I say, for a suet renaissance. The British embrace foreign fats – Italian lardo, or pork fat, is quite the fashion – but just try finding decent lard or best suet. Suet is the counter-cultural ingredient: off-puttingly pasty on Instagram but so very delicious on the plate. Bring it back.

Ellen’s Christmas pudding

This is a simple recipe: no cherries, nuts or brandy – but it’s very good. The quantities below make a large pudding – if there’s not many of you, halve the quantities and use two small eggs or one large egg, and adjust the cooking time accordingly.

You will need

• Half a pound (225g) each of raisins, currants and sultanas (if you can get hold of dried raisins on the vine, use those, but remove stalks and pips)
• 4oz (115g) mixed peel
• 6oz (170g) brown sugar
• 12oz (340g) breadcrumbs
• 12oz (340g) plain flour
• A little spice
• 8oz (225g) grated suet
• Three eggs
• Half a pint of old beer
• A sixpence or the equivalent, wrapped in a bit of greaseproof paper

How to make it

1. Mix all the ingredients in a large bowl, getting everyone you can find to pitch in.
2. When thoroughly mixed, transfer to a large pudding basin (about 1.5 litre), stick the sixpence in the middle and put a double circle of greaseproof paper over the top of the mixture. Fasten a pudding cloth over the basin, making a small fold in the middle, and tie securely with string. (If any cloth hangs down, gather the ends up and secure them with a safety pin.)
3. Put in a big saucepan, large enough for you to be able to top up the boiling water as needed, and boil for six hours.
4. Allow to cool and store in a larder or cupboard.
5. On Christmas Day, reheat by boiling for another three hours.