BUSHELL ON THE BLOG
Aug 8. Britain’s debt mountain could be closer to £12trillion than £3trillion. The Taxpayers Alliance (TPA) reckon our national debt is actually £11.7tn once you include all the hidden liabilities. Even if they’re wrong, the government’s own figures show that debt is on course to rise to £3.5tn. And yet chancellor John Healey is still looking to borrow more millions and, apparently, we’ve got money to burn on Andy Burnham’s ‘Number 10 of the North’ stunt. Serious politicians could learn from a different Healey, Labour Chancellor Dennis who sensibly made huge spending cuts in 1976 to keep the economy afloat. (Regrettably huge cuts to his eyebrows never followed.) Either that or Jeremy Corbyn’s Magic Money Tree is about to bear fruit.
Aug 6. People are being very harsh about poor Jason Arday. Leave him alone! Very few humans have walked barefoot on the surface of Venus, climbed K2 blindfolded, or made love to mermaids. Ignore them Jase. It’s just jealousy. Or racism. Or both. Shame on you all.
Aug 4. Andy Burnham has gone on his holidays. Poor soul. He must be knackered after two draining weeks filming TikTok shorts and making all those uncosted promises. Before he went abroad, the Prime Minister finally broke his silence on the problem of illegal immigrants. He’s not going to smash the gangs, like Starmer did. Sorry, like Starmer didn’t. He’s going to cut criminals out of the equation by providing “safe routes”. Presumably by offering to pick ‘asylum seekers’ up from Calais or Ceuta and sailing them straight to Kent, cutting out the middle men. Possibly on MS Queen Elizabeth, if he can borrow it from Cunard, with a champagne reception and a string quartet. His dubious solution is based on two misconceptions – 1) that all asylum seekers are genuine; they are not, most are economic migrants; and 2) that to want to reduce immigration is somehow intrinsically racist and therefore shameful. It isn’t. It’s perfectly reasonable to seek to control who comes into our country, to expel illegals, and repatriate foreign-born crims. Besides, not for the first time, Burnham has missed the point. There already are safe routes. You contact the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) in the country you’re in to establish formal refugee status, or get onto a resettlement programme. Alternatively turn up at UK Customs and register a claim. This government, and the Labour Party are far too wet to do the right thing. As proved by their decision to let killers out of prison early rather than say, hanging them (and rapists), building more prisons, and deporting foreign law-breakers. Yeah, fight crime by releasing murderers. That’ll work. It’s not like we’re not importing enough.
Aug 3. So sad to hear that Jimmy Cricket has died. He was such a lovely, funny man. I met him once halfway up a Swiss mountain, bizarrely, and he had everyone in stitches. “And there’s more” was his catchphrase. There’s no more now. RIP Jimmy.
RIP also Rod Liddle, a terrific columnist and broadcaster who was funny in a different, deeper way. Rod dined out on sacred cows. Like me, he had grown up Labour but became disillusioned. He was a fearless contrarian but never for the sake of being contrary. His wit and scepticism were underscored by a genuine love of England – what we were, and what we still could be.
July 31. Sixty thousand illegal immigrants forced their way into Spain’s North African enclave of Ceuta yesterday after swimming there from Morocco. They aren’t refugees. Morocco isn’t a war zone. It isn’t wracked with famine. This is what open borders looks like. It’s what happens when you signal weakness – as Spain’s Supreme Court did earlier this month by ruling that migrants stopped at sea while trying to reach Ceuta or Melilla can’t be automatically returned to Morocco. Even if there are terrorist sympathisers in their midst. Spain’s PM Pedro Sanchez is too weak and wet to defy them. Our own PM tries to play the problem down. Another sign of weakness. Apart from youthful idealists, most of the country is in uproar about this. Over 800 undocumented chancers arrived by boat in the last two days alone; 2,000 since Burnham’s coup. They will be housed, fed, and provided with mobile phones and GP visits at the expense UK tax-payers who have had no say on this treacherous fiasco under the Tories and Labour. Amongst their ranks have been murderers, rapists, Islamists and crooks; that’s not going to stop either. There is a solution which Burnham won’t enforce: leave the ECHR, repatriate every illegal bluffer to their country of origin, and patrol the Channel with gunboats to prove we’re serious. If he doesn’t, there will be a reckoning. At the polls if he’s lucky. (Which is probably why the Times is doing its best to nobble Farage.)
July 30. The BBC say they’ve axed three light entertainment shows “to save money”. I think they’ve done it to save face. Ratings for all three have plummeted like Sydney Sweeney’s cleavage for years. How often have you recognised even two of Celebrity Mastermind’s so-called celebrities, or been impressed by their level of general knowledge? The show has become its opposite, Nonentity Moron. I can’t be the only one who wants to slap the contestants around the face with a wet haddock when they start chortling at their own ignorance. Live At The Apollo, now averaging just over half a million viewers a week, is more about turns having the ‘correct’ opinions than it is about making us laugh. A shame because there are scores of decent comedians, young and old, who could use the airtime. And Blankety Blank has repeatedly self-sabotaged by booking guests who don’t understand their role is to provide answers that are either funny or correct. Few possess the wit or nous to do one or the other. All three shows have been ruined by box-ticking, right-think, and poor castings. And the worst thing is, none of the BBC executives who presided over their decline and failure will take the blame. Their well-paid jobs remain safe.
Long a byword for corruption, FIFA are also all about naked greed. I’ve moaned about the corporate takeover of modern football for decades, but that blight seems slight compared to Gianni Infantino’s bid to sell off a huge stake in the World Cup to fat-cat investors who care nothing about the game and everything about their bloated bank balances. If this goes through, we’ll see the World Cup expanded to 64 competing teams, the compulsory imposition of hydration breaks (for the advertisers) and probably World Cups played every two years, or even annually. It will be more milked than Ubre Blanka. Well done UEFA for uniting to boycott Infantino’s self-serving scheme, and the inevitable bungs that would have gone with it. It’s no World Cup without Europe. Let’s hope FIFA vote Gianni Rotten out next year and he takes his poxy half-time show with him.
July 27. I’m chatting to Terry Chimes about the early years of The Clash in today’s Daily Express. (It might be in the Mirror too but I haven’t checked yet). Here it is online.
July 26. Yesterday’s man Andy Burnham loves The Smiths. Has anyone thought to ask Morrissey what he thinks of Burnham? I seem to remember Steven singing, ‘I’ve been dreaming of a time when the English are sick to death of Labour and Tories’ (Irish Blood, English Heart). That time is now.
July 25. Our new Prime Minister is obsessed with Margaret Thatcher – that’s the same Margaret Thatcher who left Downing Street nearly 36 years ago. Hasn’t he got any more pressing modern-day problems? Like say, escalating global conflict, unaffordable housing, an unsustainable health service, a seemingly endless flow of illegal and malignant ‘refugees’, and a clueless Prime Minister hooked on the provably doomed policy of tax and spend. Oh, hold on, that’s him. Thatcher-bashing probably plays well with older Labour Party members and the chattering classes. My youngest daughters’ Trotskyist secondary schoolteacher taught them that three-times-elected Thatcher was evil incarnate. Many of the things she claimed (and Burnham claims), are factually iffy. Previous Labour governments under Wilson and Callaghan closed down more pits than Maggie; and the decline of Lancaster’s cotton mills started with the Wall Street Crash, when the future Baroness was just four years old. I like Burnham’s upbeat optimism, but I doubt he has any real sense of how much his policies will cost or how the country can get out of the mess we’re in. The simple answer is he needs to concentrate on growth. Which means thinking about tomorrow and not obsessing about yesterday.
July 23. Why do blokes get grumpier as they get older? Possibly because we realise that we’ve have reached the stage of our lives where wives only keep them around to open jars, change tyres, pay bills and remove spiders.
July 22. My chat with Lynval Golding went online a week ago and nobody told me. Here it is.
July 21. Murderess Ruth Ellis was pardoned by the King while I was away. (Still no word on a pardon, or even an appeal, for Lucy Letby despite the case against her looking increasingly flakey.) Ellis openly confessed to gunning down David Blakely outside a Hampstead pub in 1955. Now she would have been convicted of manslaughter due to his years of abuse. But the murder was premeditated and British law at that time left the judge no leeway.
What have the BBC ever given us, part 2: Jimmy Savile. Rolf Harris. Huw Edwards. Chris Langham. Martin Bashir. Stuart Hall. Panorama editing Trump. Strictly scandals. DLT. The Gaza documentary. Antisemitism. Over-paid autocue readers. Don’t Scare The Hare. (How much more do you want?)
July 20. Y Viva Espania! The World Cup final was duller than a Keir Starmer statement but the best team won. The cheating Argies pushed, fouled, punched and intimidated but in terms of football they were barely in the game. They didn’t have a shot at goal until the 117th minute. Argentina needs a sport of their own. Thug-Ball has a nice ring to it. In contrast, England Vs France was the match of the tournament, as thrilling and heart-stopping as a Hollywood blockbuster. Our boys played their hearts out and richly deserved their bronze medals. Saka’s hat-trick was immense. Don’t get me started on the half-time show.
During their World Cup final coverage last night, the Beeb slipped in a 3 minute 45 second advert – ‘What has the BBC ever done for me?’ Fronted by Romesh, this smug but desperate plea for continued funding kicked off in the Queen Vic and packed in Chris Martin, Ian Beale, Tracey the Walford mute, Claudia Winkleman, Pudsey, Alan Carr, some Daleks, Casualty, and of course a sparkle of Strictly. In many ways all this underlined the Corporation’s failings. EastEnders was watched by 1.9m in February and rarely averages more than 3m. Ancient hospital drama Casualty gets 2m. Winkleman’s now abandoned chatshow was underwhelming, and the dismal BBC/Disney Doctor Who fiasco was a disgraceful wasted opportunity with Disney’s £168m investment sabotaged by Russell T’s tedious and poorly plotted scripts. It was like using golden pipes to pump out sewerage. Ruth Jones (Nessa in Gavin & Stacey) popped up speaking Welsh, her brief presence reminding us it’s been a couple of years since a BBC sitcom won the Xmas Day ratings war. You could argue the licence fee can only be justified by unique programming. Shows like the Traitors could run on ITV or Channel 4. Situation comedies is one of the things the BBC used to do extraordinarily well. Back in 1986, when John Cleese fronted a similar plug called ‘John Cleese, What Has The BBC Ever Given Us?’, they could boast brilliant comedies like Only Fools & Horses and The Two Ronnies – shows that wouldn’t get made now because of the Beeb’s DEI obsession. They also had proper stars – Alan Whicker, Sir Patrick Moore, Sir Terry Wogan etc – and could proudly brag about their now depleted sports coverage. Their news broadcasts were more balanced too. The BBC have faced decline since the birth of ITV in 1955 took away their monopoly and went on to trump them with unforgettable series like The Avengers, The Sweeney, Minder, Sharpe etc. Now they face hundreds of competitors. But instead of fighting back by playing to their historic strengths, it bombards us of remakes of old shows, terrible duds like Stranded On Honeymoon Island, Red Rose and Stephen Knight’s sexed-up and dumbed-down Great Expectations, and sopping wet politics which infect their science and documentary output as well as children’s TV, the news and Question Time. They have wasted fortunes on localised empire building. All quantity, less quality. True they’ve had some terrific dramas but, Happy Valley aside, they never seem to sustain. Peaky Blinders went off the boil after series one. Line Of Duty became absurd and trailed off. The only things I willingly watch on the BBC these days are nature documentaries and Would I Lie To You. Although in fairness Small Prophets was suffused with warmth and eccentric charm, and Industry, their HBO team-up, still hits hard. It’s not for the faint-hearted though. Imagine what it’d do to Mary Whitehouse. She’d blow a gasket.
My pick of the best TV shows over the last 25 years can be found here.
July 17. Burnham’s speech came loaded with more vague platitudes than a Miss World contestant. Instead of “world peace” he pines for “good growth in every postcode”. His core message is let’s go back to the 1970s – the golden age of rampant inflation (peaking at 30%), stagflation, power cuts, the Winter of Discontent, and the dead being left unburied, when Britain was dubbed “sick man of Europe”. Some utopia. Stronger on cliches than coherence, Andy has yet to spell out any of his “new age of politics” policies in detail. We know more about how the new messiah makes a cup of tea than how he’ll pay for his scatter-brained schemes. But we do know his regionalisation will translate into millions wasted on a new layer of politicians and bureaucrats. Nationalisation will cost even more. That’s money we haven’t got. We’re living way beyond our means as it is. Interest payments on our £2.91trillion national debt is £110billion a year. A serious politician would realise we need to slash state spending, cut taxes and revitalise private enterprise. Andy Crapp was born in 1970 so he doesn’t realise how dismal the decade was (music, TV and films aside) or how soundly Neil Kinnock’s tax-and-spend plans were rejected by the public. He has no popular mandate for his suicidal vision.
July 11. Jude Bellingham. Thank you. Come on England! Dare to dream.
July 10. Former MP Ann Widdecombe has been brutally murdered by an intruder at her home. This terrible crime has been greeted with joy by the usual elements on social media. They call her disgusting names and hope this poor, 5ft 1, 78-year-old pensioner suffered – all because they disagree with her politics. We saw the same phenomenon when Charlie Kirk was gunned down. They didn’t like what he believed in, so it was perfectly fine that he was killed. This is the ugly side of juvenile leftism, this inability to see that democracy means the right to express views you or I might not agree with. Murdering people for thought-crimes is Stalinism. Or fascism. In practice there is very little difference. I didn’t know Ann, and didn’t agree with her on a number of issues, but she was that rare beast – a conviction politician who dared to stand up for what she believed in. As George Galloway, who disagreed with her on most things, tweeted, ‘She was a unique political figure who believed strongly in her political views and expressed them most eloquently. May she rest in peace.’ Well said.
July 9. Gary Stevenson wants to slap an annual 2% tax on wealth above £10m. He claims it will work because we had a top tax rate on unearned income of 98% in the 70s. We certainly did. And those eye-watering taxes brought in considerably less income for the state than the super-rich pay under the present system. They moved their money, their homes, and their businesses. Advocating a wealth tax plays to the peanut gallery but it’s economically illiterate. It would lose far more dosh for the government than it would ever raise. The real way to boost tax returns is to stop fleecing people and let the economy boom. A rising tide lifts all boats.
Why England should boot God Save The King into touch.
July 8. Such a pleasure to meet up with the great Lynval Golding of The Specials today, 48 years and about ten days since we first met although we have met up a few times in between. Now he’s nearly blind, I’m deafer by the day, and between us we’ve got two good knees. But his passion and humour keeps him strong.
Why are the main parties swerving the Clacton by-election? Because they know they will do about as well as Tunisia did against Sweden. The Tories should have let Giles Watling, the actor and former MP, stand. He’d have had more chance of winning than the unfunny and largely unoriginal Count Binface (formerly Lord Buckethead). Some papers are trying to paint him as a plucky man of the people. He isn't. He’s a well-to-do estate agent’s son with a degree in classics (Greek & Roman) from Oxford; Jonathan Harvey, a Remoaner with a grudge. Come back Tarquin Fin-tim-lin-bin-whin-bim-lim-bus-stop-F’tang-F’tang-Olé-Biscuitbarrel (Silly Party). All is forgiven.
July 6. What a match! That was one of the best England performances I’ve ever seen. It had everything – drama, commitment, wonderful goals, Bellingham at his best, a red card, and England, down to ten men, winning against the odds, the altitude and the passionate home crowd. Mexico hadn’t lost at the Azteca since 2013. We’re going to need all of that lionheart spirit to send Norway rowing home in their longboats.
I just re-read my July 4 entry and kicked myself for not including Sinatra, the Godfather, James Brown, Buddy Holly and Robin Williams. I’d love to spend a year just travelling around the States like Jack Reacher, soaking up the sights and the culture. First stop would be Clarksdale in the Mississippi Delta, where Highway 61 meets Highway 49 and where Robert Johnson is reputed to have sold his soul to Satan in return for the secrets of the blues. Clarksdale was a cotton town; the golden buckle of the cotton belt. Plantations were in constant need of labourers, and men who worked as sharecroppers included Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Pinetop Perkins, Son House and Houston Stackhouse. Delta Blues royalty. Popular music and especially rock music owes everything to Clarksdale. Out of that came rock ‘n’ roll, hard rock, Chicago Blues, R&B and heavy metal. No Clarksdale, no Stones. And no Sweet Honey Hole by Blind Boy Fuller.
July 5. It’s a 1am kick-off for tonight’s England game against Mexico and the pubs are staying open. They think you’ll fall over? You will now.
July 4. Happy Independence Day to all my mates in the United States. It’s a land I love – critically – from a distance. A land of energy and enterprise, self-belief and hope. A land of possibility, positivity, creativity and aspiration. A land of free speech, increasingly under threat here. And yes, of course the USA has flaws the size of the Grand Canyon, but from California to the New York island, and from the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters (thanks Woody), the land of the free works for me.
The Top 30 reasons I love America: Motown, the Marx Brothers, Raymond Chandler, Steinbeck, Star Trek, jazz and soul, rock’n’roll, Elvis, Aretha, Mel Brooks, Eddie Murphy, Marvel and DC, Miles Davis, Springsteen, Smokey, The Sopranos, The Simpsons, Seinfeld, Hollywood, hamburgers, Hemingway, Daisy Duke, Dolly Parton, bourbon, Bob Dylan, the Ramones, Tom Wolfe, Frank Lloyd Wright, and the MC5. Which might be 31, and I could easily and very willingly go on. For a sense of balance, the down side: the pox of credit cards, political correctness, influencers, reality TV, modern art, the KKK, disastrous ill-considered wars… (continued McSorley’s Old Ale Bar).
July 3. If Andy Burnham sticks to his word and doesn’t cut welfare or ditch the pension triple lock, how will he afford to implement his reheated plans? The only way he could pay for huge projects like renationalisation and a council house-building spree would be to impose higher taxes and higher business rates, and by loading tax relief on pensions with conditions. Which will collectively generate growth… but only in the national debt and unemployment. The imposition of a property tax would be particularly spiteful as many a modest detached house in the capital is valued at £1.5m or more. Hardly a mansion. A real radical would ditch the old failed Labour tax-and-spend compulsion and their bigger state approach and think laterally. Abolish stamp duty on house purchases and shares, simplify our bloated tax system, stop punishing the animal spirits who make the economy work, and realise that pushing taxes up always and without exception results in plummeting returns. But in fairness, I don’t suppose he learnt any of that when he was studying English Lit at Cambridge. The whole Burnham project is fatally flawed. He’s a Labour lifer bereft of vision and real-world experience. All he wants to do is bring back yesterday’s rejected policies (regionalisation, nationalisation) and yesterday’s men (Balls, Purnell, Cooper, two bloody Milibands). No wonder he refuses to discuss any of his policies in detail. Burnham is being spun as a new broom. But in reality, he’s a man with no mandate and no plan. And a hypocrite who dismisses the “neo-liberalism” of British governments this century even though he was in two of them. He’s another Nowhere Man, a vacuum who dresses down for publicity shots and bottles out of incisive interviews. Although he will answer questions on Reddit (almost). It took two years for Starmer to bite the dust. How long should we give Andy Crapp?
July 2. World Cup joys: Kane, Messi, Mbappe, Haaland etc. World Cup irritations: hydration breaks in sealed, air-conditioned stadiums presumably to give US TV extra ad breaks, and the continued use of God Save The King as the England squad’s official song. It isn’t about England; it’s the national anthem of the United Kingdon. So why are we lumbered with it? The Scots have their turgid Flower Of Scotland (harking back to the 14th century Battle of Bannockburn – no mention of Flodden or Culloden) and the Welsh the stirring and heart-lifting Land Of My Fathers. We need our own song, one that captures the hope and positivity of the English. Jerusalem would be splendid, but I’d settle for Three Lions or Cock Sparrer’s England Belong To Me. Let’s kick the national anthem into touch.
July 1st. The Number 10 of the North? Give me strength. This is Burnham playing to anti-southern prejudice. It would take years to happen, and cost millions. Besides Manchester isn’t really the north. It’s just a little over halfway between London and the Scottish borders. The true north is Cumbria, Northumberland, County Durham and North Yorkshire. Classic misdirection.
There’s an interview online with Merseyside-born Burnham from around 2010 when he shows his true colours, going out of his way to avoid saying he’s English and stating that he wants to carve England into regions (the old EU dream). He also supported the creation of a British football team. Burnham’s political opinions might well cynically mutate to suit his career but his views on England, not expected to be publicised, seem likely to be his core beliefs. Like many Labour politicians, he is uncomfortable with the idea of Englishness and sees English taxpayers as a cash cow to sustain unchecked government spending in Scotland, to win voters back from the nationalists. He would sustain the Barnett formula (which protects Scotland from budget cuts at English taxpayers’ expense) and he will allow Scottish MPs to have a say in English affairs while denying English MPs the same rights. Just 5.5 million people live in Scotland out of a total UK population of 69 million. They have a parliament to decide on Scottish questions – why do they have a say in English legislation too? Scottish MPs voted to curtail the right to jury trials in England and Wales in March. Don’t expect any change to this perverse set-up under our two-dimensional Andy Crapp.