James McSweeney

All Hallows' Eve is almost upon us and busy-bodies everywhere are sharpening their knives ahead of the inevitable annual costume scandal. For ordinary party-goers, there is reason to be fearful. Pick the wrong outfit and the consequences – getting fired, kicked out of university, ending up on the front page of a national newspaper – might be with you for the rest of your life.  Thankfully, the National Union of Students has stepped in to help. Urging every reveller to 'check and double-check their costume', the NUS has published an updated set of guidelines on how to be woke-macabre. 'Halloween should be fun and most of us love it', says the NUS. 'But sometimes, there can be detrimental stereotypes hidden behind a costume'.

After a long period of disruption, the Metropolitan Police's decision to crack down on Extinction Rebellion and clear them from the streets was greeted with cheers across the capital last week. The actions of the police are certainly understandable. This month, the Met had to request urgent reinforcements from dozens of forces across the country, including 100 officers from Scotland. And if the idea of Scots keeping the peace in the English capital wasn’t embarrassing enough for the force, the newcomers rubbed salt in the wound by leaving Scottish police stickers on the Met's vehicles. Londoners, many of whom are sympathetic to the movement, have also had their patience stretched.

I was five years old when the world first ended. That was in 2000, the year that a United Nations official predicted 11 years before that entire nations would be wiped out by rising sea levels. Since then, I have survived the Arctic melting on at least six separate occasions (2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 and 2018), to say nothing of the geopolitical chaos that followed the oil shortages of 2015. As of last year, my troubles have been worsened by the complete submersion of the Maldives, which has narrowed my holiday options. This week, as I ventured into London to shop for a woolly jumper and flippers ahead of next year’s 'Siberianisation' of England and disappearance of the Arctic, I was surprised to be confronted with a street full of lively campers with placards.