Rod Liddle

Rod Liddle

Rod Liddle is associate editor of The Spectator.

Let’s not mess with the sparrowhawks

It’s unlikely that birds of prey have anything to do with the decline in garden songbirds, says Rod Liddle, and anyway, what right have we got to play God with wildlife? But oh! The crewel sparrer’hawk E spies im in is snuggery, E sharpens up is bleedin’ claws An rips im aht by thuggery anon, 19th c. There was a fearful commotion outside, in the garden, a screeching and frantic flapping, the sound of water being urgently displaced, of aggression and terror. I rushed to the door and looked through the glass; three feet away from me, in my daughter’s half-collapsed paddling pool — replete with winter snow-melt and rain — a wood pigeon was getting its head kicked in.

The slow creep of the suburban south-east

There’s a lot to commend in the Lord Adonis proposal for a high speed rail link between London and Birmingham. Trains, it is said, will cover the distance in 49 minutes, at speeds of up to 225mph. The opposition cavils that Labour would be better off spending money improving existing, dilapidated, commuter line seem to me wide of the point; the railways have needed a co-ordinated, high profile government directed initiative to capture the imagination of the public and revitalize the network. You might argue we have needed a co-ordinated high profile government initiative since about 1835; railways have ever been starved of planning and cash. But what, exactly, will it do, demographically?

R.I.P Mark Linkous

It’s a pretty thin and overrated medium, rock music, and too much energy is expended lauding its practitioners. But Mark Linkous, who is dead having shot himself, was one of a small handful with genuine talent which sometimes, just sometimes, teetered into real brilliance. Few people have used the medium better, or understood better how to defy its obvious limitations. Under the name Sparklehorse, Linkous made one of the two great albums of the 1990s, Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot (the other, I reckon, is Beck’s Mellow Gold). This was a peculiar mélange of southern country, Neil Young, Alex Chilton and Tom Waits, a bit of weirdness and noise, the sound of a child’s train set and various other lunacies. The music was either painfully delicate or abrasive.

Thank God I was never the prey of the former model who taught me chemistry

This is Sarah Pirie, a ballet teacher and television actress, who is accused of abducting a fifteen year old boy and having sex with him at various hotels in Lancashire. How desperately awful it must have been for the lad, who was allegedly subjected to three months of this sort of treatment. I can only thank the Lord that I was never abducted when I was fifteen by, say, my old chemistry teacher Miss “Pobbles” Johnson - who had done some modeling work I believe, to supplement her meager teaching income - and subjected to three months of absolutely relentless, demeaning, illegal, sordid sex in various hotels. I would have been absolutely bloody devastated. But she never did, she never did. Thank the lord. She never did.

The public has every right to fear homicidal nutters

There was a loony on my train the other day. He sat quietly for most of the journey, but when we pulled into a station he began barking like a dog; that’s how I knew he was a loony, the barking bit, not the sitting quietly bit. Every station, his head went back and he began to bark and yowl and you could see little flecks of foam, agitated saliva, at the corners of his mouth. Then, when the train left the station he went back to reading the Daily Mirror in silence, although he would snuffle from time to time. His fellow passengers treated him with wary tolerance, glancing over from time to time but careful not to catch his eye. I smiled at him once, in an uplifting and encouraging manner, but he looked uncomprehendingly beyond me.

Memo to all footballers: quit whining

This, from Roger Alton in this week’s Spectator Sport: “Manchester United and Aston Villa players are moaning about the state of the Wembley pitch for last Sunday’s Carling Cup Final. Give over, lads. Football’s not billiards. A harsh winter’s just a fact of life, and your skills have been flattered by manicured surfaces for too long.” Absolutely right, as per usual – although Alton does not go far enough. We have now had Sir Alex Ferguson whining about the state of the pitch and how it may have incommoded both Wayne Rooney and Michael Owen. When he’s not whining about pitches, Ferguson whines about how the referees are out to get him.

The Guardian: loathsome and loathful

By God, The Guardian is a loathsome newspaper; a local north London morning daily for Stalinist metro libtards, perpetually arrogant, snobbish, self-righteous, humourless, dull, relentlessly middle class, cowardly and cheap. You will all have had your epiphanies long before me, I suspect, reading the smug drivel of la Toynbee and Gary Younge and Monbiot, or its pathetic attempts via The Guide to be down with the kids on the street (perhaps the worst written, most cringe-inducing, supplement in Fleet Street).

Cows and sirens…

I assume there is something more to this story than meets the eye, because otherwise it seems to me inexplicable and outrageous. A fireman, on his way to attend an emergency, has been arrested and charged with manslaughter because it is alleged that the sirens on his engine “spooked” a herd of cows which consequently trampled to death an elderly farmer, Harold Lee, aged 75. The Daily Mail’s version of the story carries a little more detail than the rest – to the effect that the fire engine at first turned off its sirens when it encountered Mr Lee and his son Richard moving the herd along a narrow lane on the Somerset levels. But then he turned the siren and lights back on again. I assume any more detail than that is sub judice.

Bullying: no-one cares

So now we know the full extent of the Prime Ministerial bullying. Did he whip, flay or pummel his staff? Did he pick on them relentlessly, or spit at them or try to force them to have sexual intercourse with him while he growled about having saved the world? Did he swear at them in a nasty manner? Nope, according to the latest revelation Gordon Brown was responsible for the following outrage: he pushed past a civil servant with his arm on the stairs while saying “get out of the way” in a rather brusque manner, once, when he was in a hurry. Doesn’t this make you worry about the sorts of people we have as civil servants these days? Meanwhile an opinion poll has suggested that the bullying accusations have had not the slightest definitive impact upon voting intention.

Shouting and throwing things isn’t bullying, it’s just bad manners

Of course it’s bad to persecute people, says Rod Liddle. But bullying has now become the latest politically correct public sector growth industry My Concise Oxford Dictionary defines ‘bullying’ in the following terms: ‘to persecute or oppress by force or threats’. The charity at the centre of this latest furore about the Prime Minister, the National Bullying Helpline, meanwhile describes it thus, on its introductory webpage: Stress. Bullying. Workplace stress and anti-bullying advice for adults. Anti-bullying and Cyberbullying help for kids. Bullying help at Work. Anti-bullying in Schools. Anti-bullying in the Community. Bullying in schools. Domestic violence. Cyberbullying. Stalking. Redundancy. Bullying & Harassment Investigations.

Stop the BBC’s racism

I saw the BBC’s Crimewatch programme last night and was, as ever,  sickened by its inherent racism. It has reached a point where something really ought to be done: perhaps, like my colleague Charles Moore, I should withhold my license fee until they get with the programme, as the Americans like to say. As usual they had some dapper copper pointing to a board of miscreants whom the police cannot find, presumably because they are overwhelmed with paperwork or sorting out imaginary hate crimes; the public is requested to dob them in. Of the ten faces on this rogue’s gallery, accused largely of violent crimes, eight were non-white.

Too early to panic at Tory HQ

Some more nasty opinion poll news for David Cameron, with an ICM poll showing the Tory lead down to seven per cent. “Hung Parliament Looms as Tory Support Crumbles” was the splash in The Guardian, which you might have predicted. You might have predicted Michael Heseltine wading in to the debate too, suggesting that the Conservatives cannot win the next election outright (he’s been a real help to so many Tory leaders, hasn’t he?). I think it’s too early to worry very much, if you’re a Conservative: Daniel Finkelstein seems to have it just about right here.

Tower block of bollocks

The Channel Four television programme Tower Block of Commons, which concluded last night, may have been a stupid and opportunistic idea, but it may too have one beneficial outcome. No matter how reviled and loathed are our politicians, set alongside some of the untermensch featured in this show they appeared paragons, saints, beacons of decency. The idea, of course, was to humiliate the politicians as much as is humanly possible and – as they kept asking – “see how they cope”.

Isn’t Gordon Brown being bullied?

Just a thought, but isn’t the National Bullying Helpline guilty of bullying the Prime Minister? I think I will ring its freephone number claiming to be Gordon Brown and explain that I am currently being bullied by a prominent anti-bullying charity, can they suggest a course of action. Quite clearly what the aptly-named Pratts, the bossess of this charity, has done is breach confidentiality, which is about as serious as it gets for an anti-bullying organization. That’s why its patrons are either in the process of resigning or distancing themselves from the whole caboodle. I have the suspicion that this is one of those Tory attacks which will badly misfire and end up shooting the party (and indeed, Nick Clegg, who deserves a spot of rigorous bullying) in the foot.

Bullying in No.10? Grow up…

Look, I know a good many of you lot would clutch at anything if it helped defeat Gordon Brown at the next election, and I understand and respect that point of view. But come on, be honest - bullying? Accusing the Prime Minister of bullying? I suppose the best that one could argue, from a rightish perspective, is that Brown has reaped what Labour has sown: a nation of whining ninnies, ever so sure of their rights, perpetually convinced that they are victims. But even that’s stretching it, because you won’t find anyone more singularly opposed to bullying than Cameron, nor more likely to stick up for the rights of those who claim that they have been bullied. But I would ask you what you think would have happened if Winston Churchill had been accused of bullying.

Why not let politicians call each other ‘scum-sucking pigs’?

David Wright, the Labour MP for Telford, should get out more, he should be more inclusive. I have attended many Conservative party conferences and mingled late at night with the delegates, and I have to say it always seemed to me that the party was composed almost exclusively of scum-sucking pigs. Sometimes I would go to these conferences with the notion, maybe at the back of my mind, that perhaps next time an election came around I might vote Conservative, given the state of the country and the Iraq war and Harriet Harman and what have you. But the scum-sucking pig stuff cured me of that within four days. But then attending a conference for a few days is not really good enough.

We are all victims of institutional anti-racism

I don’t suppose that anyone is about to build a community centre in commemoration of Waad al-Baghdadi, but maybe they should. There’s one for Stephen Lawrence, constructed as a token of our disgust at what Sir William Macpherson called the ‘institutional racism’ of the Metropolitan Police. Lawrence’s murder was not competently investigated by the Old Bill at least in part, Macpherson argued, for institutionally racist reasons, borrowing the phrase from the borderline psychotic black American activist Stokely Carmichael. Mr al-Baghdadi, meanwhile, was not killed by anyone, but he was smacked around a bit by a copper.

Bang Up the Pope

When the Pope arrives here for his state visit, should he not be arrested for his views about buggery? Or at the least be interviewed by the old bill? The Pope has called homosexuality a “moral evil” and that saving mankind from sodomy is as important as saving the rainforests. Further, homosexuality could lead to the “destruction” of the human race. In January 2006, the then boss of the Muslim Council of Britain, Sir Iqbal Sacranie, was interviewed by police following much milder comments about homosexuality which he, perhaps unwisely, gave vent to on the BBC PM programme. The filth were alerted under the terms of the 1986 Public Order Act, which makes it a crime to whip up hatred against the gays.

Why give money to charity when they shaft what they purport to defend?

I’m not an enormous fan of “giving money to charity”; I prefer to spend my spare cash on holidays, consumer durables and alcohol. But somehow, for the last five years, I’ve been paying a monthly stipend to Amnesty International. I really don’t know how that can have happened. Obviously, it should now stop, seeing that they have suspended the head of the organisation’s gender section, Gita Saghal, for having the temerity to suggest Amnesty was being “damaged” by being nice about the Taliban all the time.

Is it really racist to want an English-speaking cab driver?

Rod Liddle says that the outrage directed at a taxi firm for advertising ‘English spoken here’ serves only to strengthen white working-class resentment — and the BNP ‘Rraaaaaaaacissst!’ — that Pavlovian whine of complaint, almost always from a white person, an idle and meaningless howl of outrage where once, when uttered by a black or Asian person who had suffered discrimination, it had a point and a potency. ‘Raaacisst’ — a new definition; a word which, as soon as it is uttered, can cause debate to cease, people to be punished, argument to be subverted, the Old Bill to get involved. ‘Raaaaacccissst!