Rod Liddle

The last time I took my wife to watch Millwall play a home game, a gentleman a few rows in front of us took grave exception to the behaviour of an opposing player and identified him, very loudly, as the author of The Critique of Pure Reason – repeatedly and with venom. Having vented his spleen, he turned to sit down and caught sight of my wife. An expression of contrition spread across his face and he said to me in a conciliatory tone: ‘I am very sorry for using such language in front of your lovely lady.’ The apology, you will note, was to me, not to my wife. Such is the arcane concept of chivalry and decent manly behaviour down The Den. I accepted his apology with a smile.

I’ve just broken one of my own golden rules – never buy a book that has won the Booker Prize, because it will be crap. So I have only myself to blame. The rule of mine has held reasonably true, with a few exceptions, since the wonderful David Storey won it in 1976 for Saville.  The committee, whoever is on it, will always choose a book which accords with their asinine political beliefs, especially if it is a ‘warning’ kind of a book. It never used to be quite like that, but that’s how literature is these days. Write a book from a perspective unloved by the metro chattering class and you’ll be lucky to be published, never mind awarded a prize.

I notice that the police are not treating the killings of those children in Southport as a terrorist attack. While the principal suspect has been charged with allegedly producing ricin and allegedly possessing a PDF document called ‘Military Studies in the Jihad Against the Tyrants: the al Qaeda training manual’, we have been told that no terror motive has been established.  The possibility that the perpetratoris a bit wacko is not allowable: it’s the politics that’s to blame My friend and colleague Douglas Murray dealt, admirably, with the Southport business last week.

There are many reasons to remember Quincy Jones, who has died aged 91 in Los Angeles. Let me deal with just one. Jones was responsible for the soundtrack of one of the most remarkable films of the 1960s, In The Heat of The Night, which is still in my all-time top ten of movies. Directed by the peerless Norman Jewison (who also died this year, aged 97), the film is mostly remembered for the clever, nuanced performances from the two leading actors and the sometimes electric interplay between them – Rod Steiger as the tired, reflexively bigoted and lonely white sheriff of a small Mississippi steel town and Sidney Poitier as the suave, articulate, black detective from Philadelphia who is unfortunately deposited in this backwater and immediately accused of murder.

I have been trying to interest MPs of all parties in joining my call to persuade Barbados to say ‘thank you’ to Britain for the extra 17 years of life they enjoy as a consequence of their distant ancestors having been forcibly transported, hundreds of years ago, from Africa to the Caribbean. Nobody is quite biting my hand off at the moment, I have to say. They seem to think that the issue is a little ticklish right now. It would be difficult to make the charge of present culpability stick in any reasonable court of law, surely? I had mentioned the whole business on last week’s Any Questions? but the audience seemed too appalled even to boo and sat there with their middle-class jaws sagging open, as if they’d just been touched up.

I wonder if we should join with the radical campaigning organisation Buy Larger Mansions (BLM) in order to protest about both the verdict in the Chris Kaba case and indeed the racism inherent in the Metropolitan Police? Perhaps we can get Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer to wear some BLM badges on Match of the Day and recreate the heady, exciting atmosphere of 2020 when white liberals in the US and here decided that George Floyd was a kind of combination of Toussaint Louverture and Rosa Parks, rather than a former criminal jailed eight times, including for robbery with a deadly weapon.

Are homosexuals and transgendered people more at risk from natural disasters than the rest of the population? I dare say there is a robust tranche of right-of-centre opinion which holds that they are indeed more at risk and that by and large this is a very good thing. Natural disasters are sometimes called ‘acts of God’ and those of a deeply conservative disposition may be inclined to see them as a punishment from the Almighty for grave transgressions of a sexual or gender nature. It is God doing what God does best – a spot of appropriate smiting.