Brendan O’Neill

If you were in any doubt that we live in mean-spirited and vengeful times, then Complimentgate should put you straight. Complimentgate is the name I'm giving to the naming and shaming of a solicitor who had the temerity to say something nice about a woman's looks. For doing this, for paying someone a compliment, he has now become an object of Twitter-ridicule, fodder for the insatiable global outrage industry, which rails not only against people who are abusive online but also against people who are nice. No one is safe from their virtual slings and arrows. The man in question is Alexander Carter-Silk. Via LinkedIn, he sent what the press is bizarrely referring to as a 'controversial message' to one Charlotte Proudman, a barrister.

Why do leftists care more about Muslims than they do about Jews? If that sounds confrontational, consider this: this week, the Met Police released the latest hate-crime figures for London. They show that offences against Jews have risen by 93% over the past year, while offences against Muslims have risen by 70%. And guess which story the BBC, Guardian and Independent, those voices of the British liberal conscience, have chosen to flag up? Yep, the 70% hike in Islamophobic attacks, not the nearly 100% hike in anti-Semitic offences. The BBC's headline is 'Islamophobic crime in London "up by 70%"'. The Guardian's is 'Hate crimes against Muslims soar in London'. The Indie opts for 'Hate crimes against Muslims in London "up by 70%"'. What about the crimes against Jews?

Have you seen the dead Syrian child yet? Look at his lifeless body. His head buried in the sand. His sad, resigned posture after he and his family made the treacherous journey from Syria to Turkey only to wash up dead on a Turkish beach. Isn’t this just the saddest photo you’ve ever seen? And gross too? Quick, share it! Show it to your friends — on Twitter, Facebook — so that they will feel sad and grossed-out too. Gather round, everyone: stare at the dead Syrian child. We all know about the problem of sexual pornography on the internet. Now we need to talk about the problem of moral pornography.

Harvey Proctor has done us all a favour. His press conference last week about the hysterical allegations being made against him by ‘Nick’ (an anonymous bloke) and the paedo-obsessed police has helped expose the medieval madness of the post-Savile paedophile panic. Proctor has been accused of torturing and murdering boys at wild Westminster sex parties that were also frequented by Edward Heath and Leon Brittan. If you believe that, you'll believe anything.

Here’s a sentence I never thought I would write: I feel sorry for Hillary Clinton. Following months of scandal over her email shenanigans (in a nutshell: she’s been using a private email address rather than her government one) she’s just had to hand her email server to the FBI. And anyone who has so much as a smidgen of the DNA that makes up the empathy gene must surely be thinking to him or herself: ‘Oof. Poor Hillary.’ Imagine having to pass every email you’d ever written — whether in jest, anger or horniness — to the powers-that-be, knowing they could be pored over in public.

Nothing better sums up the out-of-touchness of public-health prigs than the debate about so-called binge drinking. To these teetotal, ciggie-dodging suits, for whom fun is the foulest of f-words, and who are such miserabilists that they’re made sad by the idea of happy hour, anything more than four units of booze a day for a bloke, and three for a lady, counts as binging.Four units is two pints of weak lager. Three units is a large glass of wine. Are these people for real? That’s lunch for many of us. On party nights most of us have more than that before we even don our glad rags and leave the house. Consider it pre-drunkenness, in anticipation of actual drunkenness, which is often followed by blind drunkenness.

Not content with Facebooking our every foible, Instagramming the births of our children and live-tweeting our daily lives, more and more of us are now making a public spectacle of dying. We’re inviting strangers not merely to ‘like’ expertly filtered photos of our breakfasts, but to admire the way we peg out. Nothing better captures the death of privacy than this publicisation of death. It began with the literary set. It’s a rare writer these days diagnosed with a terminal illness who doesn’t get a book out of it. Jenny Diski is the latest public dyer. She’s giving readers of the London Review of Books a blow-by-blow account of her death by lung cancer, covering everything from the diagnosis to her chemo sessions.

Imagine if a Ukip politician wrote about being on an aeroplane that was 'heaving' with black people. Imagine if he described becoming suspicious of them, and assuming, on the basis of no evidence, just a hunch, that they must be flying overseas to get up to no good. Imagine if he complained to British police about this 'heaving' group of dark-skinned air travellers, and the police agreed to interrogate them upon their return to Britain. There would be outrage. We'd see this as racialised suspicion. In which case, why has there been no outrage, not so much as a raised eyebrow, over what the Lib Dem Baroness Jenny Tonge did at the end of last week? Baroness Tonge wrote about a flight she recently took from Heathrow to Addis Ababa.

Imagine if Education Secretary Nicky Morgan went into a mosque and told the praying blokes to put their shoes back on. Or if she bowled into a Catholic school and said: ‘The look of anguish on Christ’s face in that crucifix hanging on your wall could upset children. Please take it down.’ We would be outraged (I hope). We’d wonder what business it is of politicians to tell people how they may express their religious convictions. So why isn’t there more discomfort over Morgan’s launch of an investigation into a Jewish sect’s decree that women may not drive children to its schools? The Belz sect, which is ultra-Orthodox, runs two schools in Stamford Hill.

I feel torn on pianist James Rhodes’ victory at the Supreme Court yesterday. On one hand, the lifting of the legal injunction preventing him from publishing his child-abuse memoir is a great strike for freedom of speech. But on the other hand — another child abuse memoir? Really? Rhodes had an injunction taken out against him by his ex-wife. She claimed his autobiography, which is being published by Canongate, might cause ‘serious harm’ to their son, should he read it. She went to the High Court to try to secure a ban on the more difficult stuff in Rhodes’ memoir: the parts detailing the sexual abuse he suffered as a kid. She failed, but she did secure a temporary injunction on publication of the book.