Jimmy Nicholls

I’ve always admired Jimmy Carr’s line on the distinction between old-fashioned communism and the newer, woker sort. ‘Instead of trying to redistribute wealth, which is a perfectly reasonable thing to want to do, they want to redistribute status,’ he explains. ‘And that is a recipe for… madness.’ Beyond the pork barrel tone we’ll have to get used to over the next few years, the most remarkable thing about Burnham’s wheeze is his ambition to equalise status between different educational tracks Perhaps one shouldn’t be surprised at Carr’s talent for the astute given his educational pedigree. Before becoming Britain’s leading offensive comedian, Carr graduated from Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, with a first-class degree in social and political science.

Criticising m’learned friends has been a risky undertaking since a certain newspaper described a few beaks as ‘enemies of the people’ during the kerfuffle about Europe a few years back. In the age of populism, you are either a defender of the rule of law or an incipient fascist accusing an honest judge of being an ‘ex-Olympic fencer’. It is therefore with some trepidation that I’d like to suggest the government’s plans to restrict jury trials might not in fact signal the end of democracy.

In politics, as in life, it helps to get your excuses in early. That presumably is why, ahead of tomorrow’s Budget, Keir Starmer has mounted a vanguard action in defence of his chancellor Rachel Reeves. ‘I’m acutely aware that women get much more abuse and criticism than men do and I think it's about time we acknowledge that,’ he told broadcasters over the weekend. Starmer was responding to earlier complaints from Reeves that she is the victim of patronising  – and, even worse, male – armchair critics. ‘I’m sick of people mansplaining how to be chancellor to me,’ she told the Times, adding in a grumble about those nefarious ‘boys who now write newspaper columns’.

Recent years have not been kind to the politics of George Monbiot. The journalist’s column records growing dismay at the inexorable march of neoliberalism, the growing list of Brexit benefits, and the West’s reluctance to disarm Israel and leave it to the tender mercies of its neighbours. But contra Labour’s favourite party tune, things can always get worse. And faced with the prospect of Nigel Farage entering 10 Downing Street by 2029, Monbiot has come up with a canny solution. Writing in the Guardian, he has pleaded with the government to change the constitution so that the deplorables at the gate cannot implement their agenda.

Of all the industries you’d think would know how to avoid a shakedown, the gambling sector is if anything overqualified. Centuries of experience working with crooks, debt collectors and hapless punters should surely have provided all the training needed to make an offer nobody can refuse. Alas, Rachel Reeves appears to have ensnared even the bookies in her tax grab. With the Chancellor seeking unsympathetic victims for her impending Budget, the best line the gambling industry could find was that further taxes on its activities would force it to shutter some of its tastefully-decorated high street outlets.

At a time when quarterly economic growth in the UK is flatlining at 0.3 per cent, it’s good to learn that not every industry in Britain is in mortal peril. While their customers have seen better days, coffin makers report that the average casket width has grown from 18-20 inches to a girthy 20-24 inches. As a 15.8 per cent increase, it’s the definition of an upsell and the kind of growth that only countries that have fired their chief statistician can hope to achieve. You’d think it would be a boom time for the National Association of Funeral Directors, who, given their trade, must rarely be in the mood for celebrating.

It was a hairy situation. At a drab corporate dinner in a posh hotel basement, one of my fellow diners grew increasingly prickly. My publication had committed some slight against him – perhaps passing him over for one of our phoney awards, more likely misspelling his name. Unassuaged by my non-apologies, the fur was beginning to fly, though with as much ferocity as Bagpuss might muster. As my assailant stared at my luscious locks cascading onto my chest, he decided things must get personal. He leant across the table and yelled: ‘And get your hair cut!’ The advice wasn’t without merit; I’m perennially in need of a trim. But the incident spoke to something darker in the soul of British men, borne of frustration, drink, and perhaps subconscious lust.

Almost half of 16 to 21-year-olds wish they had grown up without the internet. A similar portion are even calling for a social media curfew, with a quarter wanting phones banned in schools, according to research from the British Standards Institution. Really? The truth is that Zoomers – those born between 1997 and 2012 – don't know how lucky they are to have come of age during an era in which they had access to the web. The truth is that Zoomers don't know how lucky they are While my own generation of Millennials were early guinea pigs for Facebook, Twitter and – for the connoisseurs out there – MSN Messenger, much of our teenage lives remained firmly analogue.