Nikki Stix – Mum, Wife, Friend, Legend.

You don’t have to have been on Twitter for long to realise that it can bring out the worst in all of us. Emboldened by the anonymity the platform affords, we can pretty much say what we like to whomever we like. Socrates, had the great man been around today, would have been appalled at how far we’d drifted. He’d have urged us to think before we tweeted. ‘Is it true, is it kind or is it necessary?’ he’d ask.  Alas, the great man is not around and so, in the absence of his wise counsel, we forget to ask ourselves those three questions, and we carry on regardless.

Yet occasionally – and it really is rare - you come across someone who rises above all of that. Someone who is instantly ‘special’. Someone who stands out from the rest. Someone who wants to make the world around them – and that includes their virtual world – a better place. Nikki Stix – for it is she – managed to do all of that.

Nikki was instantly likeable – fun, engaging, amusing, clever. And the Brexiteer’s Brexiteer. She was passionate about it and campaigned hard for us to leave. She hated the division it caused and her tweets would always accentuate the positives, never the negatives. Sure, she had a pop at Femi, Grayling and O’Brien from time to time – but who on our side worth their salt did not? But her aim was always to bring together, not divide. She lamented how the discourse had deteriorated over the four years. But despite this deterioration, she remained upbeat, strong, and principled. Easy for even those on the ‘other’ side to see.

Nikki’s battle with cancer was well documented – she shared her struggles with a candour and openness that helped many – people who were also ill, people who had lost loved ones, and people who were going through struggles of their own. But she shared never to garner sympathy, only ever to inform and inspire. And she did it effortlessly, with humour and with good grace - never afraid to give a little bit more of herself to build up those around her.

But today, Twitter became a little darker for many of us. Somewhere, a light was switched off. All of us knew Nikki was ill and we knew that the last few months had been bad – she’d kept us updated as she had always promised she would. Yet despite that, today’s news came as a bolt from the blue. A cruel kick in the teeth at the end of a cruel, relentless year.

This morning, as usual, we’d logged in, coffee in hand, and scrolled as we always did. And as usual we’d see a tweet from someone we follow and we’d chuckle and nod or perhaps tut and shake our heads. As usual, we’d like, reply, maybe retweet. But we’d already moved on with our day. Actions barely important at the time, becoming so quickly inconsequential.

But then a tweet that stopped us in our tracks. We didn’t move on with our day. We sat, staring at Mike’s message, barely able to take it in. Tears for someone we’d never met, but who all of us knew so well. Tears for someone who’d invited us with her on her journey. Tears for someone who had shared, selflessly, her ups and downs. But this final ‘down’ was crushing. We’d not been prepared for that.

Comments started pouring in. Thousands within minutes. She was described as a ‘force of nature’, an ‘inspiration’, a ‘member of the family’, a ‘fighter’. And she was all of that, and more. And amongst the comments, names familiar to all of us. Names I mention not because they are any more important than the thousands of others, but proof that her appeal and influence transcended the usual twitter bubbles: Iain Dale. Dan Hodges. Alex Deane. Madeleine Grant. Adrian Hilton. Dan Wooton. All of them expressing their shock and sorrow. But perhaps it was Claire Fox who said it best:

Oh, I am devastated to hear this. She was such a good friend to me on here, and a voice of reason. She will be missed so much. You were a real fighter for freedom and fought your own health fight with guts. What a woman!

But of course, sad though we are, our loss is nothing - nothing at all - compared to that of Nikki’s family, Mike and their little dictator. It’s hard to imagine what Christmas will be like for them, this year and for every Christmas after. But when Mike has the time, he’ll look through the messages sent today. He’ll see the impact she had on so many lives. And he’ll keep them safely stowed away. And as the original 3 foot dictator becomes the four foot dictator, then five, who knows, maybe even six, she’ll always be able to look back at what her mother meant to so many people whom she’d never even met. And she’ll be proud to say: ‘That, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, was my mum.’

RIP Nikki Stix. You absolute legend. X

What Would James Do?

It’s not difficult - if not altogether pleasant - to imagine James O’Brien’s routine just before he goes to bed at night. You can see him, blue-striped pyjamas, top tucked into the bottoms, clambering into bed, his LBC headphones still on, asking: ‘Now, James, what would you like to say?’ In response, he will read – aloud, naturally - a few pages from his best-selling pamphlet. And, sated by his own wisdom, he’ll lay his head on his pillow, checking before he closes his eyes that a small notebook and pencil are on his bedside locker. Because James knows that his best tweets are composed at night. He knows pearls of wisdom will come to him in the darkness and that they must be scribbled down - no matter what the hour - before they are forgotten. In the morning, he’ll piece his notes together, draft and redraft and then throughout the day, release his ‘impromptu’ tweets to his legion of adoring fans.

Now, don’t laugh, but I have recently discovered that it’s not only his fans who should be digesting O’Brien’s tweets. Every one of us should be taking the time to read them. Because within those carefully crafted 280 characters, lies wisdom, within every tweet, a pathway to truth. Allow me to explain.

In evangelical churches in America, it’s not uncommon for Sunday School children to be given colourful bracelets inscribed with the letters ‘WWJD’. When faced with a situation where they are unsure of the right thing to do, the children are encouraged to look at the bracelet, ask ‘What would Jesus do?’ and act accordingly. It’s rather a quaint way of reminding children of what is right and what is wrong. 

O’Brien’s Twitter feed is my WWJD bracelet. If ever I’m unsure what side of an argument to take, I ask a similar question:  ‘What would James do?’ But unlike the American Sunday School children encouraged to ask the question and do exactly what they believe Jesus would have done, I ask the question about James and take precisely the opposite stance. And I’ve discovered that as a strategy, it’s absolutely failsafe. 

Ever since he brought out his book, an enjoyable pastime for many has been to highlight just how often a man who had the chutzpah to call his book ‘How To Be Right’ had been shown to be hopelessly wrong. On Nissan, he was wrong. On Darren Grimes, he was wrong. On Frank Lampard, he was wrong. On Arkadiusz Jóźwik, he was wrong. On regulatory alignment in the Good Friday Agreement, he was wrong. On the shipping of meat from Australia to the UK, he was wrong. On the recent election, he was wrong.  And most famously, on paedophile Carl Beech, he was horribly, dangerously, irresponsibly wrong. 

But while it is fun to laugh at James O’Brien and his unerring ability to be wrong, there’s a much more serious side to the lies that he peddles. We are told repeatedly how divided we are as a country. But this is a division that is stoked and encouraged by the likes of O’Brien himself. A self-appointed voice of liberal progressives, he - just like his chums Grayling, Campbell, Simor, Dunt and Maugham – won’t accept opposing views. If you disagree with him, not only are you wrong, you’re morally bankrupt to boot.

Take this weekend for example. The protests right across the UK - ostensibly about the murder of an unarmed black man in America – surprised no one when they turned ugly. London witnessed a complete breakdown in law and order with 27 police officers injured, despite an incredible claim from the BBC that the protests had been ‘largely peaceful’. The protests continued on Sunday with attacks on war memorials, Union flags and Churchill statues - events largely unreported by our mainstream media. 

Events down in Bristol, however, were given almost wall to wall coverage. Because there, we had the ‘good’ kind of agitation. A statue of former slave owner Edward Colston was torn down, rolled through the streets and dumped in the city’s harbour, to cheers from the assembled mob.  But while many cheered, there were just as many across the country – including the Home Secretary, Priti Patel – who were left uncomfortable at the way the police in Bristol had capitulated. It was a discomfort that O’Brien took little time to exploit:

‘How you feel about that statue is how you feel about slavery. Don’t let anyone pretend otherwise.’

A tweet wrong and objectionable on so many levels. There’s not a man, woman or child in the UK who looks back on slavery with anything other than disgust. How you feel about ‘that statue’ says absolutely nothing about how you feel about slavery. 

While there may be arguments for the removal of a statue erected in the memory of a renowned slaver, the erasing of history – no matter how distasteful we find that history to be – is a dangerous and slippery path. We mocked the Taliban, revelling as they did in removing historical artefacts with which they disagreed. The truth is very few heroes of British history share the values we cherish today. Most of them will have done things uncontroversial at the time, but disagreeable to us now. But we examine history not lazily to shame its participants, but rather to learn from it. To be cautious about the removal of a statue is to be cautious about the expunging of history and says nothing at all about how we feel about slavery.

And even if we do agree that the statue should come down, allowing a rabid and feral mob to make this decision is to admit we no longer live in a country where law and order matter. This is not how such decisions should be made. On Sunday, many questioned the ‘how’, if not the ‘why’ of the statue coming down. Indeed, a YouGov survey today showed that 53% of Britons support its removal, but only 13% approve of the way it was done. This suggests a preference for democracy over mob rule and says nothing at all about how we feel about slavery.

He knows all of this, but division is his stock-in-trade.

For anyone following O’Brien’s feed over the last 12 weeks, his interventions at the weekend will have come as no surprise. Since the outbreak of the virus, his LBC phone-in and his twitter feed have been awash with anti-government bile. You could be forgiven for thinking that in a time of national crisis, old enmities might be set aside, that ‘the common good’ might trump time-honoured rivalries. But not O’Brien. Not only has he refused to do this, but he has actively and openly wished for our government to fail. And if you wish for your government to fail on Covid-19, it necessarily requires that more people must lose their lives. 

It explains the relish with which he announces the latest numbers. ‘The worst in Europe!’, ‘The second worst in the world!’, ‘The carnage in our care homes!’ He knows that the numbers are not yet comparable with countries whose method of counting deaths are different to our own. He knows that attempting to measure rates at this stage in a pandemic is premature. He knows that both population size and density are factors. He knows our care homes have not been hit as a hard as many in Europe. He knows that the UK is not New Zealand.

He knows all of this, but division is his stock-in-trade.

Brexit is, of course, how he made his name. In the four years following the vote, O’Brien dedicated every waking hour to ensuring that the wounds from a fractious campaign be opened further still. The country had voted and the time for debate was over. The time had come, no matter how you voted, to work together to make sure that Brexit was a success. But again, not for O’Brien. He was in Barnier’s camp, not Britain’s. He backed Juncker, not Johnson. He wanted the EU to hold the upper hand so that his prediction of a broken economy could come to pass. He wants Brexit to fail. And if Brexit is to fail, it necessarily requires people to lose their livelihood. But that they might, remains of less importance to O’Brien than being able to remind us all that he'd told us so.

And just as he suggested that if you didn’t agree with a statue being torn down you somehow supported slavery, his mantra over the four years was that if you voted Brexit, you were not only stupid, but racist. That you didn’t like ‘brown’ people or Polish people. And yet he knows that the UK has consistently been shown as one of the least racist countries in Europe. It’s demonstrable, as O’Brien himself might say.

He knows all of this, but division is his stock-in-trade.

The truth is, O'Brien is part of the problem. If you want to understand something of the current divisions in our country, studying his perennially miserable Twitter account is a perfect place to start. He preaches inclusion, but only ever moves to exclude. He preaches tolerance, but brands those who disagree with him fascists and Nazis. He preaches progressiveness, but his rhetoric sets the country back years. He preaches love, but only ever offers hate. In short, he encapsulates everything that is wrong with the modern-day 'progressive' left. 

Anyone who has any interest in playing a part in building a more united, hopeful, successful Britain should always remember to ask themselves: ‘What would James do?’ And then, without hesitation, do precisely the opposite. 

The Brexit Proxy War

‘We’ve left the EU and therefore the Leave/Remain argument is over. The only argument now is what sort of deal we have with the EU’

Heartening words, indeed, from the Labour leader yesterday, in an interview for the Telegraph’s weekly political podcast. Perhaps this intervention, from a man who battled so hard for three years to reverse the Brexit vote, was a sign that the country was finally exiting the four years of bitterness and division that the 2016 referendum had unleashed.  Perhaps it indicated a brighter future that would see erstwhile political opponents come together to fight for a brighter future. Yes, well, not quite. Just as Starmer was declaring the Leave/Remain argument over, a story was breaking that demonstrated that far from being over, the argument was just as bitter as it had ever been before.

For the weekend was about to be dominated by one major story – that of a disgraced, lying, and hypocritical charlatan of a political advisor. But in addition to the ubiquitous Alastair Campbell’s round of unchallenged media interviews, another storm was brewing – one involving present day political advisor, Dominic Cummings. The Mirror revealed that he and his family had travelled 250 miles from London to Durham, breaching lockdown advice in order be closer to family as both Cummings and his wife battled the virus. The story changed often throughout the day – Cummings’ parents were replaced by his sister in one version, babysitting was replaced by food deliveries in another. It was all Alastair Campbell could do to keep up in advance of his next media appointment.

One of the most amusing aspects as the story unfolded was how the left were suddenly able to describe with absolute precision the government’s lockdown policy – a policy which for weeks they’d dismissed as ‘vague’, ‘difficult to understand’ and ‘confusing’. Not since the scales fell from the eyes of a stricken Saul of Taursus deep within the old walls of Damascus had clarity been so quickly restored. Suddenly, the rules couldn’t have been easier to understand, with everyone now an expert. And yet time and time again, they failed to pinpoint exactly how Cummings had broken the law.

The government, unsurprisingly, backed their man, with Cabinet Minister after Cabinet minister tweeting support. Shapps, sent out by captain Boris Johnson as the night-watchman, batted watchfully in the press briefing, ducking the inevitable bouncers that were sent down. He reached close of play – but only just. Next man in must surely be Johnson – he simply can’t afford to slip any further down the batting order if he wants to turn this around. Coming back from injury is hard – but more than ever, he needs a captain’s knock.

But inevitably, as the Cabinet rallied around Cummings, there was much talk in the media about the government’s loss of moral authority. That by refusing to bow to the pressure to dispose of PM’s advisor, the government was losing credibility. But here’s the thing. This government was elected with one of the highest shares of the vote since the heady days of the Blair government and enjoys one of the safest majorities of any in recent years. Yet despite this – and solely because of Brexit – it is a government that is both at once hugely popular and deeply loathed. And those that loathed it before this weekend, deeply loath it just as much today. Those who voted for it in December would vote for it again tomorrow. 

And just as Left-leaning Twitter was embarrassing itself, so too was the UK media. Andrew Marr, a man who Andrew Marr regards as one of the UK’s most formidable interviewers, was reduced to asking a bemused Grant Shapps how many toilet breaks Cummings Junior had taken on the way to Durham. He pretended that the fact that Shapps was unable to provide these details was ‘extraordinary’. But unlike Marr, surely most of the country must have been relieved that the Secretary of State for Transport was unfamiliar with the toilet habits of someone else’s 4 year old child. I know I certainly was.

But of course, aside from the despicable media pile-on – at a time when there is so much we should be talking about - there’s another, altogether more sinister angle to this story. This is a story that only has legs because someone in Durham decided that it was their job to regulate the lives of Dominic Cummings, Mary Wakefield and their 4 year old child. Surely it was never the intention of our lockdown to pit the public one against the other in some kind of macabre Maoist nightmare. Perhaps it’s for this reason more than any other that we should hope Johnson and Cummings don’t bow to the pressure. Instead, we need them to end this lockdown and allow us as quickly as possible to return not to a ‘new normal’ but to the old.

Anyone who is willing to be honest this weekend knows that Dominic Cummings’ real crime was not driving to Durham. It wasn’t stopping at the side of the road for a toilet break. It wasn’t even his dress sense – although that probably does require intervention at the very least from the fashion police if not necessarily their metropolitan counterparts. No, Dominic Cumming’s crime was to deliver an unlikely Brexit win and a stonking 80-seat Conservative majority that would allow the Withdrawal Bill finally to be passed. Everything else this weekend is simply noise.

Most people seem to agree that Dom Cummings is not a particularly nice bloke. I certainly hold no torch for him. But this weekend’s witch hunt says significantly more about those baying for his blood that it does about Cummings himself. Were they not so blinded by hatred, they might more quickly see what kind of people Britain has become. But while they continue to refuse to see this, nothing Keir Strarmer says will make any difference – the Brexit argument will run and run and run.

No Surrender

As Ian Blackford, Anna Soubry, Chukka Umunna and Caroline Lucas laughed and cheered outside the High Court on Tuesday morning, who would have thought that less than 36 hours later, they’d be wishing that the 11 learned judges had ruled the other way. Posing smugly for the cameras – basking in a victory in which they had played no part – they couldn’t have foreseen the mauling opposition MPs would receive on their unexpected return. For it was a day of astonishing government rearguard action - certainly not the triumphant return to parliament Remainers had been hoping for.

Attorney General, Geoffrey Cox set the tone. With a performance likely to draw a sternly worded letter from Brian Blessed’s lawyers, he left returning opposition MPs in no doubt who he blamed for the current Brexit impasse, describing the opposition front bench as 'spineless’, and parliament itself as ‘cowardly’. ‘It has no moral right to sit on these green benches,' he boomed. ‘This parliament is a disgrace.’ 17.4 million people rose as one.

The statements that followed, while never likely to live up to Cox’s, were delivered to a half empty chamber. Yes, they had been given a roasting and many no doubt had scuttled sheepishly back to their offices. But the empty seats were an odd way to demonstrate to the British people the importance of not losing a minute of parliamentary time at this moment of ‘national emergency’. It was, after all, the reason the prorogation had so upset them.

They returned, however, for the main event of the day which – despite Cox’s heroics – was always going to be the statement from the Prime Minister, only recently returned from New York.  But rather than the chastened, demoralized and apologetic figure the opposition had been hoping for, Johnson gave without doubt the most charismatic performance of his short tenure. One after the other, opposition leaders rose to attack. One after the other, Johnson swatted them away. In a blistering attack, he reminded them that they were perfectly entitled to get rid of him. Call the election you all claim you want, he goaded.

Pushed time and time again to apologise, Johnson refused. Pushed time and again to desist from referring to the Benn Bill as the Surrender Bill, he doubled down. But given that Johnson genuinely sees the bill as a surrender, surely, he is entitled to say so? Surely, no amount of opposition posturing can turn that word into an offensive term?

And here’s the thing: If you genuinely think that ‘surrender’ is an offensive term and if you’d genuinely prefer a bill you pass in the House of Commons not to be referred to as a ‘Surrender Bill’, it’s better not to make it a surrender bill. If you’d rather the Prime Minister didn’t talk about capitulation, it’s better not to force him to capitulate.

Seeing how badly their day was going, opposition MPs performed a reverse Michelle Obama: ‘When Boris goes high, we go low.’ Such was the paucity of their arguments, they reached deep into the bottom drawer of dirty tricks and took out the Jo Cox card. In what it is hard to imagine was not a coordinated move, female opposition MPs, referencing the 2016 murder of the Labour MP, stood up and linked threats to their lives to Johnson’s ‘inflammatory language'.

It was not the first reference to her death. Earlier in the day Geoffrey Cox had pronounced the current parliament as the ‘dead’ parliament – surely an irrefutable fact. But Labour MP Alison McGovern took to twitter to describe his comments as ‘beyond a joke’, urging the Attorney General to remember Jo Cox’s death. A ridiculous response, but dutifully retweeted by Cathy Newman, never one to miss an opportunity to put the boot in on a powerful man.

But it was Paula Sherriff’s intervention that was the most explosive.  ‘We stand here under the shield of our departed friend with many of us in this place subject to death threats and abuse every single day.’ Had she stopped there, her point would have been valid. But unable to help herself, she instead blamed the Prime Minister for these threats saying that he ‘should be ashamed’. Johnson dismissed her claim - that he was responsible - as ‘Humbug’, unleashing an outpouring of anger on the opposition benches.

But how, given the rhetoric that has poisoned our political landscape of late, was it Geoffrey Cox’s use of the word ‘dead’ and Johnson’s use of the word ‘surrender’ that triggered such an outpouring of opposition anger? It wasn’t ‘coup’ or ‘dictator’ that appalled them. Not ‘far right’ nor ‘extremist’. Neither ‘Nazi’ nor ‘fascist’. ‘But 'surrender'?  Clearly beyond the pale.

Predictably, David Lammy was appalled. The same David Lammy who compared the ERG to Nazis – in a statement he said wasn’t ‘strong enough’. John McDonnell was shocked. The same John McDonnell who spoke of killing Margaret Thatcher and lynching Esther McVey. Ed Davey was furious. The same Ed Davey who had called for a ‘a Remain alliance to decapitate that blond head in Uxbridge and South Ruislip’. Jo Swinson was almost in tears. The same Jo Swinson, the leader of a party whose members last week, in a cheerful conference ditty, urged Tony Blair to ‘fuck off and die’. Jess Philips was moved to ask an urgent question on parliamentary language. The same Jess Philips who threatened ‘to knife [Jeremy Corbyn] in the front.’

And away from parliament, last week a rapper whose name I did not recognize then and which I have forgotten since, emerged at an awards ceremony clutching the fake decapitated head of Boris Johnson. He held it aloft to cheers and laughter. It was a sickening display both from the artist and his audience. But where was the opposition outrage then?

None of this, of course, is to make light of genuine threats to our politicians – female MPs in particular. The abuse many of them receive is vile. Jo Swinson is perfectly entitled to want to stop Brexit. Anna Soubry can of course leave the Conservatives and argue for a second referendum. They do so from a deep and genuine belief that they are right. And they should be able to do so without threat or intimidation. But to claim that this abuse results from our current Prime Minister’s description of a Bill he loathes is laughable.

But then we know that the offence taken last night in parliament was affected, the tears crocodile. Labour MPs weaponized the death of a slain colleague in a deeply callous and unpleasant manner in an attempt to deflect from the shortcomings of their own parties. Had Johnson apologized to Sheriff, or had he stopped referring to the Benn Bill as the 'Surrender Bill' it would have been tantamount to accepting that two unconnected events were linked. He was right to do neither.

When Lady Hale read out the Supreme Court’s ruling on Tuesday morning there was much jubilation. Gloating MPs tweeted pictures of themselves already sitting back in the House of Commons, eager further to humiliate the Prime Minister. But events yesterday served only to reinforce what we already knew. This parliament is finished, discredited and without mandate. It has to go. The opposition wasn’t upset by the Prime Minister’s language last night. They were upset that no matter what tricks they play, no matter how much they delay, the public cannot be fooled.  As Geoffrey Cox warned, Christmas is coming.

Bettel the Devil You Know

     
   And tuning into Luxembourg late at night,

   And jazz and blues records during the day,

   Also, Debussy on the third programme,

   Early mornings when contemplation was best.

                                   
                                          'On Hyndford Street’, Van Morrison

Had it not been for Sir George Ivan "Van" Morrison, I’m not sure that I could name one thing that Luxembourg had ever given the world. By all accounts the great man from East Belfast couldn’t get enough of the country’s radio station and no doubt mourns still its 1992 demise. But the radio station notwithstanding (and I take Van’s word that it was a fine one), what has Europe’s smallest nation state ever given us? I dipped in to its Wikipedia page hoping that the list of ‘Notable Luxembourgers’ there would remind me of some of the greats who I’d simply just forgotten. However, the list seemed to be not so much a list of famous artists, scientists and sports stars, but rather a list of everyone who has ever lived there - with Jean of Luxembourg and Henri of Luxembourg clearly two of its more memorable inhabitants. An odd place, then, for our current Prime Minister to come unstuck.

No doubt chastened by criticism that he wasn’t doing enough to secure a last-minute Brexit deal, Johnson arrived in Luxembourg determined to show he meant business. The day began with talks with the man who (allegedly) has done more than any other to support Luxembourg’s underwhelming wine industry, Jean Claude Juncker. While, as expected, these talks didn’t provide anything close to a breakthrough, they had the distinct advantage of passing without incident. Au contraire – as I think at least a third of Luxembourg's population might say – there was even talk about further, more intensive talks. Perhaps a Brexit deal could be struck after all.

It was later in the afternoon that things began to unravel. From his meeting with President Juncker, Johnson went on to meet the country’s hitherto unknown Prime Minister, Xavier Bettel. On his way into the Luxembourg Ministry of State, Johnson had been subjected to heckling from an impromptu group of anti-Brexit protesters. So impromptu, in fact, that they knew exactly where and when to gather, were able to secure a loud speaker system, and had the presence of mind to hand out large EU flags and Ode to Joy hymn sheets. It was almost - almost - as if they’d been given advance notice.

Rightly fearing that a press conference against this backdrop was something of a stitch up, Johnson and his team repeatedly requested that the press conference be held inside, away from the baying crowd. Not an unreasonable request, you might think. However, Bettel, who presumably had already told his mother that he was going to be live on TV, refused and insisted on carrying on regardless. Gesturing to the Boris Johnson-sized gap beside him, Bettel played to the gallery: 'It’s his responsibility,' he said. 'Your people - our people - count on you. But the clock is ticking, use your time wisely.' The British PM upstaged and embarrassed by his Luxembourger counterpart.

And oh, how Remain Britain laughed. The usual suspects danced on to Twitter mocking the ‘incredible sulk’, praising the statesmanship of the Luxembourg PM and celebrating the brave protestors. Shelagh Fogarty, host of a daily three-hour anti-Boris phone-in show, could barely contain her delight, giggling as the story broke live during her show. In a first for LBC (and in what was a clear contractual breach), James O'Brien was relegated to only the second most sanctimonious host of the day. Dr. Jennifer Cassidy, an Oxford University politics lecturer was similarly enchanted: ‘Take a bow Luxembourg, take a goddam glorious bow.’ Anna Soubry, leader and entire membership of Change UK was appalled. ‘Our Prime Minister is a disgraceful, mendacious buffoon who brings great shame on our country,' she tweeted. 'For the sake of our worldwide reputation and children and grandchildren’s future let’s stop this #Brexit crisis.' 

But Johnson doesn’t need Fogarty or Cassidy or Soubry. Nor does he need perennial critics David Lammy or Owen Jones or Gavin Esler. He needs the country to like him. And recent polls suggest that they do. And the incident outside the Ministry of State will again play well with his target base. Yesterday’s stunt was so blatant, the attempt to humiliate so unashamed, that Johnson refusing to take part will have resonated with many at home, standing in stark contrast as it did to the passive humiliation that was the hallmark of Theresa May's pitiful dealings in Europe. 

And if proof were needed that yesterday may not have been the disaster Remain had hoped, Johnson found, in the midst of the Twitterati pile on, a surprising ally. Nicholas Soames – who I recently discovered was Randolf Churchill’s son’s brother’s daughter’s son – took to Twitter to express solidarity with the man who only two weeks previously had booted him out of the conservative party. ‘Very poor behaviour by Luxembourg #showoff @BorisJohnson quite right not to be made a fool of #franklyunhelpfulgrandstanding,' tweeted the erstwhile Tory grandee.

David Jones, a former Brexit minister, agreed: 'If Remain supporters are revelling in this gratuitous rudeness to a British Prime Minister, they should examine their own motives. Most patriotic people would say it’s another good reason to leave on 31 October.' And the problem for Remain is that there are plenty of patriotic people in the UK. Yesterday gave Number 10 a very clear rallying cry:  If that is who they are, if that is how they behave, why would we want to stay? 

So here we are. Another ‘disastrous day’ for Boris Johnson. ‘Humiliated’ on the world stage. ‘Shown up’ as the ‘charlatan’ Remain want him to be. And yet, who’s to bet that we won’t see yet another fillip in the polls. When Remain laughed today, they laughed at Britain. They sided with a non-entity of a politician from a non-entity of a country against their own prime minister. But Boris won’t mind. They are not his target audience. The rest of the country will have seen our Prime Minister refusing to dance to the tune of a Prime Minister of a country with fewer subjects that a girly swot in her final year of GCSEs. And they’ll have loved it. 

Van Morrison’s back catalogue is impressive. Indeed, were he so-inclined, he could probably dedicate at least one song to every family in Luxembourg. Were he to dedicate one to Boris Johnson, perhaps he’d choose ‘There’ll Be Days Like This.' And indeed, there will. But Boris loves days like this. It’ll be Jeremy Corbyn, Jo Swinson and Remainers, up and down the country, who will be hoping he doesn’t have many more.

Don't Judge...

Kwasi Kwarteng (or Quasi Kwarteng as Ian Blackford prefers to call him) is today responding to accusations of ‘Trumpian behaviour’ after his appearance on the newly revamped Andrew Neil Show last night  The allegations surfaced when, despite taking care to back the judges himself, he pointed out that:  "Many Leave voters up and down the country are beginning to question the impartiality of the judges. They’re saying, ‘why are they getting involved in politics?'" And even though many leavers up and down the country are saying precisely this, he was accused of disingenuously using leave voters to hide his own criticism of the court’s decision.

It came after courts in Scotland ruled that the recent prorogation of parliament was ‘unlawful’.  In a clear departure from the Gina Miller case in a London court last week, the Scottish judges said the decision to prorogue was indeed ‘justiciable’. They concluded that Boris Johnson’s advice to the Queen had been ‘unlawful’ and that consequently the prorogation itself was ‘null and of no effect’. Parliament, against all the odds, could yet be recalled and perhaps John Bercow’s farewell tributes – cut cruelly short after a paltry 90 minutes - could rightfully resume.

Much though there is to loathe about the outgoing Speaker of the House, his theatre will be greatly missed. Who can forget, over the last 18 months,  the frequent bellows of  ‘Division!’ after countless crucial late-night Brexit votes?  Division, indeed. Our country is split down the middle. Our parliament is split down the middle. Our families, we are constantly told, have been split down the middle. (Although a family that fissures over Brexit is surely a family with other issues beside). And now, it seems, even our courts are split, North v South.

If you voted leave, you’re furious that Brexit has not yet been delivered after 3 and a half years. If you voted remain, you’re furious that not everyone else voted the way you did. If you voted leave, you think we’re going to thrive once the EU 'shackles' have been cast off. If you voted remain, you think (perhaps not without justification given the Yellow Hammer release) that we’re going to hell in a handcart. .But no matter what side you are on, you're sure to have an opinion. I have yet to meet anyone in Britain who does not feel strongly either way.

And much has been made of the effect this strength of feeling has had on our political journalists. Hitherto, our media, by and large, had managed to hide individual leanings, if not necessarily editorial bent. But now, there’s barely a journalist in the land who you couldn’t, with some certainty, guess how they voted in the 2016 referendum. A few exceptions exist, of course. The scrupulous Andrew Neil, whose excellent questioning led to Kwarteng's 'Trumpian' slip, national treasure Kay Burley, who didn’t vote at all and James O’Brien, who has remained resolutely tight-lipped on the subject, making it hard to call his Brexit stance, one way or the other. But for the most part, journalists’ colours have been nailed firmly to respective masts.

This is not overly to criticize our print and television journalists. Yes, they should strive to be impartial – and on most issues they do. But Brexit, for many, it seems, like Boris Johnson's plans to link Ireland and Scotland, is a bridge too far. And perhaps this is unsurprising. It’s not an issue from which one can easily untangle oneself. If they voted remain – and many of them did – they, like many of the remain voters in the country, fear Brexit. And if you fear, something, it’s often hard to hide it. If they voted leave - and a couple of them did - they, like many leave voters in the country, despise a Parliament they see as determined to stymie Brexit. And if you despise something, it’s often hard to hide it.

And so, to our venerable judges. The decision at yesterday’s Court of Sessions in Scotland was met with glee by one half of the country and dismay and fury by the other. 52% of the country raised collective eyebrows at yet another establishment blow. 48% of the country, attempting to hide raised eyebrows, moved swiftly to declare that judges must be respected. Not so much the judges from last week, but definitely those from this. And it was from this 48% that Kwasi got his comeuppance. Perpetually offended Afua Hirsch called him out, on twitter: “Shame on @KwasiKwarteng. Confirmation we have a government that has zero respect for the separation of powers, the rule of law, or the proper functioning democracy.” There was no mention in Afua’s tweet of how much she respected the judges from the Gina Miller case only a few days earlier.

But how, then, have the judges remained impervious to Brexit? They have risen above politics where you and I have not. They have remained neutral where many in the media have not. On an issue that for three years has been all-consuming for the rest of us, they have remained calm and disinterested. And woe betide you if you suggest that any of the three judges in the Scottish Court of Session yesterday may have had a pre-existing opinion on Brexit. Judges, cry Remain, are immune from the pressures of politics. We mustn’t question their decisions or their impartiality. Well, not this week, in any case.

But this is the problem with taking the political into the realm of the judicial. Despite the Remainer outrage at anyone who dared question yesterday’s decision, even a cursory glance at the judges’ final declaration shows it to be patently political. They decided that the purpose of prorogation was for the government to ‘avoid scrutiny’. This is a court judging on political motive. To do so, is, by very nature, to become political. And where does it stop? Can every political decision taken by a government be taken to a court and overturned? Surely, whether you voted remain or leave, we must agree that political motivation should not be decided on in a court of law.

Kwasi last night acted responsibly – he stuck to a line that doubtless he didn’t believe. He was firm – he said he had full trust in our judges. But he was also right to say that many people disagree. Because it is true. And to accuse him of being Trumpian for doing so is a low blow. But the gloves in this fight came off a long time ago. May, of course, didn’t notice that they had. But Boris Johnson and his team, none of them wearing gloves in the first place, are fighting back. Leavers have had a tough few months. They’ve had to watch in embarrassment at the final days of May. They’ve had to watch in fury as a remain parliament passed  the Benn Bill - the most duplicitous Bill, they argue, since the 42nd President of the United States denied sexual relations with an intern. And to top it off, they’ve had to watch in astonishment as the most arrogant man in the House brought forward a Humble Address. Yesterday’s court decision was almost the final straw. And Kwarteng was within his rights to point out that many leavers are losing faith in the ‘establishment’.

If there’s any justice, the Supreme Court will overturn yesterday’s decision and confirm that politics and law should - no, must - remain separate. If they don’t, our democracy takes yet another hit. If it is to survive, it can’t take many more. 

Trifextra Week 37

This weekend they are challenging us to write 33 of our own words to build upon the following:

On the count of three...

We can choose to include those words if we want, but they do not count toward the 33 words of our own.

Anti-climax 
 

“On the count of three!” she cried.

I’ll be honest, it surprised me. I’m no Lothario, but I’ve had my share of pillow talk. Being ‘counted in’, though, was certainly a first.

And it quite spoiled the moment.