Brendan O’Neill

For surreal moments, this will take some beating: I’m in a pub watching the prime minister announce the closure of pubs. It was my first instinct when I saw an online news report saying all pubs would be forced to close as of this evening: to leave my office and get into a pub. I need one more pub pint. I need one more pub memory to sustain me through the dark months of tragic home-boozing that lie ahead for all of us. The first thing I saw when I arrived was a gaggle of tipsy blokes staring at a TV that had its volume cranked right up. Boris was solemnly announcing the regrettable cancellation of every freeborn Englishman’s right to go to the pub. I couldn’t tell if was being jokey or not. But no one in here is laughing.

Remoaners are having the mother of all meltdowns. What’s rankled them this time? The Brexit 50p, of course. Yes, they’re now raging against a coin. I’m genuinely starting to worry about these people. To clarify, I’m not talking about Remain voters. There were 16.1m of those and the vast majority of them are perfectly normal people who understand how democracy works. They aren’t having sleepless nights about the new 50p, released to mark the UK's departure from the EU. No, I mean hardcore Remainers, the FBPE people, the folks who think Brexit is literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to Blightly.

It is actually fitting that Harry and Meghan’s decision to leave the UK is being referred to as Megxit. Because this royal temper tantrum, this flouncing out of the UK by the most painfully PC couple in monarchical history, has much in common with Brexit. Like Brexit, it has exposed the vast moral divide that now separates the new elite, of which H&M are key figureheads, from ordinary people. Like Brexit, it has confirmed that this nation is now split, in David Goodhart’s words, between 'Anywhere' people and 'Somewhere' people. 'Anywheres' are post-national, geographically mobile and often sniffy about those old, apparently outdated values of community life and familial loyalty. And 'Somewheres' view nation, place, family and belonging as incredibly important.

Finally, Hollywood has received the thrashing it so richly deserves. The self-satisfied movie elites have been called out — to use their own PC parlance — over their hypocritical moral preening and hollow woke posturing. Courtesy of our very own Ricky Gervais, Hollywood’s right-on bubble has been burst, and what a brilliant sight it was. Gervais’s one-man war on Hollywood cant took place at last night’s Golden Globes. He was presenting (‘for the last time’, he said, no doubt rightly). He spared no one. He mocked individuals over everything from their dating habits (Leonardo DiCaprio) to their height (Martin Scorsese). And he mocked all of them, the entire industry, over their vacuous moral pretensions.

The Labour party has lost the plot. That is the only explanation for the bizarre, self-destructive antics it has been engaged in since its drubbing in the December election. It has learnt nothing. It is blissfully and stupidly carrying on down the path of Remainerism and/ or Corbynism that lost it the election. Instead of taking a breather and asking why working-class voters rejected it en masse last month, Labour is doubling down on its unpopular nonsense. Pretty much every door-stepping canvasser and opinion pollster said the same thing about Labour’s historically awful showing in working-class ‘red wall’ constituencies: it was down to the party’s betrayal of Brexit or to its embrace of eccentric Corbynista blather — or both.

We’re closing 2019 by republishing our ten most-read articles of the year. Here’s No. 2: Brendan O'Neill on the January episode of Question Time when the audience cheered for no deal: How brilliant was that cheer on Question Time last night? Isabel Oakeshott said Theresa May should just walk away from the EU. Fiona Bruce asked her if she meant we should pursue ‘No Deal’. ‘Yes’, said Oakeshott and there it was, instantly, contagiously, the loudest cheer I can remember hearing from a Question Time audience. This was no polite applause or murmur of approval. It was a statement — a noisy, rebellious statement of the people’s continuing and profound attachment to the idea of leaving the European Union, deal or no deal.

Stormzy has a song called Shut Up. ‘Oi rudeboy, shut up’, he raps. I wish he’d take his own advice. His predictable political musings are getting boring. His Corbyn cheering went down like a cup of cold sick with the populace. And his chattering-class views are just embarrassing for someone who claims to be grime. It’s time for a temporary vow of silence, Stormzy. His latest ‘controversial’ utterance came at his former primary school. He told a bunch of seven-year-olds there that their new PM, Boris Johnson, is a ‘very, very bad man’.

The ‘red wall’ has fallen. Brick by brick. Almost every bit of it. Seats held by Labour for decades have been seized by the Tories. To me, this is the most exciting thing in this extraordinary election. It feels almost revolutionary. Working people have smashed years and years of tradition and laid to waste the nauseating, paternalistic idea that they would vote for a donkey so long as it was wearing a red rosette. The ‘red wall’ results are staggering. In Bolsover, held by Dennis Skinner since 1970, the Tories now have a 5,000+ majority. Former mining towns like Bishop Auckland and Sedgefield — Tony Blair’s old seat — fell to the Tories.

When’s the Question Time for over-60s, then? Or maybe even over-75s? After all, elderly people face specific social problems: pension issues, care, loneliness. And yet they aren’t getting their very own QT, unlike under-30s, who are. Tonight the BBC is hosting a special youth version of its flagship political show and in the process it is sending out a pretty disturbing message: young people’s views matter more than old people’s. Presented by Emma Barnett and featuring politicians from across the spectrum, tonight’s QT for millennials promises to be an irritating affair. It’s not that I have anything against young people — I was young myself, once. It’s more that self-consciously youthful politics has become a bit woe-is-me.