Tim Stanley

Rights compete for privileged status in a liberal society. The right to redefine one’s gender, for instance, conflicts with a woman’s right to undress in a room reserved strictly for women. The right to speak one’s mind on campus comes up against the right of students to live free from unwelcome opinions. And the right to articulate a deeply held religious belief crashes headlong into the right of a whole smorgasbord of groups who don’t want to hear it. Last year, a Christian bakery in Northern Ireland was fined for refusing to make a cake promoting gay marriage. The prosecution was backed by the Northern Ireland Equality Commission, which covered nearly £39,000 in legal fees. This story isn’t necessarily evidence of a conspiracy against true believers.

Lunatics with money are never 'mad', only eccentric. In America, they can also class as Republican presidential candidates. Hence Donald Trump – a barmy billionaire with a mouth bigger than his bank balance – is currently leading the race to be the party’s next nominee. It’s a sad indictment of the American political process. And it disguises how strong American conservatism could be if it only tried harder. So far, more than a dozen major Republicans have declared their candidacy. Jeb Bush stands out for his establishment support, Scott Walker for his credentials as a conservative governor who took on the unions, Marco Rubio for his charisma and ethnicity… and so on. In a field so incredibly wide, however, polling points are spread thin.

No election night is complete without a man dressed as King Arthur waving a plastic sword as the result is read out. Eccentricity is the bedrock of British democracy. The freedom of a madman to waste £500 to get on the ballot is precious. On these islands, we have a right to rave. And sometimes what we rant about is quite revealing. I’ve been fascinated by eccentric independent candidates ever since as a teenager I met Mr Mark Ellis, a perennial independent running against EU domination and casual littering. He used to patrol Sevenoaks high street with a shopping trolley, collecting rubbish. A profile in the local newspaper revealed that he slept on two chairs pushed together in his living room, and that he shared his house with a duck.

For hardened drinkers, looking for the perfect hangover cure is like the search for the fountain of youth. To drink and drink without any consequences is the stuff of fantasy – and it’s one that’s been indulged by countless civilisations. A return to one’s GCSE classics days proves it. It’s nice to know what Grumio really got up to in that culina when he wasn’t coquebatting. For the ancients, getting drunk was a sign of civilisation, proof of masculine virtue and bloody good fun.

Abuja was eerily quiet when I arrived. The capital of Nigeria is normally bustling, but that morning the wide boulevards were empty. The red dust was undisturbed; the call to prayer echoed through the city like the sad lament of the lonely. There is an election approaching, and a lot of people take that as their cue to leave the country. You’ll find much of Nigeria’s ruling class in the Harrods food hall at this time. Although Abuja is far wealthier and more stable than most of Nigeria, its problems are representative of a country on the brink of disaster. Construction of the capital began in the 1970s, its layout heavily influenced by Milton Keynes. Today it is a mix of grand designs and organisational failure: my tour of the Ministry of Power was complicated by a power cut.

If like me you get all your news from the Cornish Guardian, you may have spotted an article announcing that the Fairy Investigation Society is conducting a survey. They’re seeking information from anyone who has seen any pixies, elves or sprites — all on a strictly anonymous basis. I rang the man behind the research and he told me that in just three months, he’s had over 400 replies. An example: ‘I was walking down a field in Scotland when I noticed a winged being leaning up against the side of a sycamore tree. He was as tall as the trunk, maybe 15 feet.’ You might laugh it off, but the man was deadly serious — as are his informants.