Author: Alexander Boot

Many books state the bleeding obvious, but, by the sound of it, Original Sin: President Biden’s Decline, Its Cover-Up, and His Disastrous Choice to Run Again by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson takes pride of place.

The book documents Biden’s descent into senility and frailty, rendering him what the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to the US Constitution calls “unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office”.

When that becomes the case, says the Amendment, and the president acknowledges so in writing, the vice president becomes acting president. Yes, but what if a president is so far gone that he is unable to acknowledge his own incapacity, nor even to recognise his close friends and to tell his wife from his sister (leading the likes of me to crack salacious jokes about the intimatemost aspects of Biden’s family life)?

I’m sure the Constitution must have provisions for such a situation, but in Biden’s case they were never invoked because both his family and his party covered up his condition. Moreover, they tried to force him to stand for re-election when he was already completely away with the fairies. (Americans run for elective offices, while Britons stand for them. What other proof does one need for the more dynamic nature of US politics?)

That, says Michael Deacon’s review of the book, “sounds downright cruel”. Yes, it does. But more important is that it sounds downright criminal.

The Constitution is the scriptural foundation of the American republic, and public officials in the US take a vow to protect and defend that sainted document. Violating the Constitution is regarded as a heinous crime in America, and rightly so.

Falsely claiming competence to act as president and then covering up the physical and mental incompetence to do so is thus a crime against the very foundations of American statehood. And crimes must be prosecuted and punished.

Since poor Joe was made to issue wholesale pardons for the entire phone directory of the DC Beltway, no prosecutions will ensue. That’s most regrettable.

Biden isn’t the first president to suffer such collapse. Mrs Wilson was de facto president during her husband Woodrow’s second term, while James Baker performed the same role at the same stage in Reagan’s tenure. Both Wilson and Reagan became demented after winning their second terms, and their condition was also covered up by their entourage.   

Yet Biden is unique because he was the only president who started out that way. This was obvious to any outside observer, including such faraway ones as me. Poor Joe slurred his words, couldn’t tell different members of his family apart, kept falling down, couldn’t stay on any subject even for a short spell and in general showed every sign of a man ready for pasture.

And that was even before he won his campaign and a four-year term in the White House. This means he, his family and his party deliberately deceived the voters into believing they elected a president, whereas in fact they put into that office a cardboard cutout, a puppet whose strings were pulled by people lacking an electoral mandate. This strikes me as criminal conspiracy, not just cruelty.

The penny dropped when Biden’s friend of long standing, George Clooney, you know, the chap who wants us to give the Elgin Marbles “back to the Pantheon”, realised Biden didn’t recognise him any longer. He then withdrew his support, and Kamala was off and running.

What is it about current American politicians that makes them conspire to make a mockery of the highest offices in the land? I’d suggest that the cover-up of Biden’s dementia constitutes a worse abuse of the presidency than Trump’s Qatari plane or even Nixon’s Watergate.

The issue cuts deeper than the shabby personalities drawn into politics, in America and elsewhere. Surely, if Biden’s condition was obvious even to casual observers on this side of the Atlantic, it was no secret to American voters either? If we read the odd article and saw a short video or two, they must have been saturated with stories and images.

And yet over 81 million of them voted for Biden, more than for any other presidential candidate in US history. Even assuming, as MAGA people continue to do quite vociferously, that there was some legerdemain involved, this ought to bring into focus the very validity of one-man-one-vote democracy.

It has been known since at least Plato and Aristotle that democracy becomes a travesty in the absence of a responsible and informed electorate. That sine qua non doesn’t exist in the US, nor in any other democracy I’m aware of.

One hears MAGA chaps boasting that their idol was elected by the American People (always implicitly capitalised). True. Yet four years earlier the same populace had voted in droves for a man conspicuously half a step removed from a nursing home.

Moreover, had Biden’s people managed to keep him out of the public eye for another few months, those same implicitly capitalised People might have put him into the White House again. Whatever this says about universal franchise, it’s not something one should repeat in front of children.

Voters no longer cast their ballots for rational reasons, sound or misguided. They respond to the echoes of a propaganda din not dissimilar to commercial advertising.

Ads no longer sell products. They sell some vague values that buying their product would confer on the purchaser. By buying this toothpaste, they communicate, you show that you [have sex appeal, care for your health and appearance, protect the environment, save ‘our planet’, whatever]. Any claim, no matter how inane, will work, provided the advertisers have the means of shouting it long enough and loudly enough.

If anything, a buyer of political messages is even easier to dupe. He pays good money for his toothpaste and he works by the sweat of his brow to earn it. Politics, on the other hand, is removed from his quotidian concerns. If paying his hard-earned for a product is real life, politics is make-believe.

He is asked to vote for someone he doesn’t know and whose message he doesn’t really believe or, in most cases, understand. The voter casts his ballot not for something a candidate says to him but for what he thinks voting that way would say about him. He buys not into a political philosophy but into the zeitgeist, into goodness as he has been brainwashed to define it.

That’s why every few years voters everywhere are faced with the choice of what I like to call the evil of two lessers. They listen to the zeitgeist and, if it tells him that today’s goodness means wokery, they’ll vote for the appropriate candidate. If the message is hard-nosed common sense, they’ll vote that way. When their choice predictably messes up, next time they’ll opt for his opposite. And so it goes, round and round.

Alas, poor Joe. He got caught up in that merry-go-round and wouldn’t have been able to get off even had he wanted to. But he didn’t.

Biden was programmed to seek office, and he knew that even when he no longer knew who his friend George Clooney was. At least Joe didn’t think he was married to George.

To paraphrase a Saltykov-Shchedrin aphorism I cited the other day, Trump’s task seems to be keeping the world in a state of constant bewilderment.

One day he moots the possibility of invading American allies Denmark and Canada, along with some small fry like Panama. Then he puts that idea off, instead trying to shut down international trade or at least suffocate it with irrational and vindictive tariffs. The next moment he lowers the tariffs, only then to raise them again, evidently deriving joy from watching people suffer dizziness and vertigo.

The world gasps on cue, then to be told it was the Ukraine that attacked Russia, not the other way around. Hence Trump suspends all aid to the Ukrainian aggressor, only to resume it, albeit on a limited scale, a week later.

And so on in the same vein: the roller-coaster of what passes for Trump’s thought shoots up at breakneck speed, then dips even faster, distorting the faces of those unable to keep up and scared of falling out.

Yet even against that background, Trump’s latest escapade takes the cheesecake. The Donald gratefully accepted the gift of a luxury Boeing 747-8 jumbo jet from Qatar. The plane is to be used as Air Force One while Trump is in office, and as his personal ride thereafter.

Oh, of course the jet won’t be his personal property de jure – that would be too much even for him. After a long career of bankrupting his Atlantic City casinos and balancing on the knife edge of the law, Trump can handle loopholes with the dexterity of a Parisian Gobelins maker.

The plane will be transferred to Trump’s Library Foundation, which will probably keep the men in blue off his back. But that will be a distinction without a difference. Niceties observed, he’ll then use the jet as he sees fit.

Predictably, this grossly immoral, nay amoral, act has created a mighty backlash in all sorts of quarters – and not only among the Trump haters on the Democratic benches. Even fully paid-up, card-carrying, cap-wearing MAGA zealots are aghast.

“I think if we switched the names to Hunter Biden and Joe Biden, we’d all be freaking out on the right,” said Daily Wire co-founder Ben Shapiro, whose politics place him firmly to the right of Attila the Hun’s security chief (I mean this as a compliment).

I’ve been proposing similar switches for a long time. Just imagine the weeping and wailing and gnashing of MAGA teeth had Hunter Biden said: “In terms of high-end product influx into the US, Russians make up a pretty disproportionate cross-section of a lot of our assets.” Or, “We don’t rely on American banks. We have all the funding we need out of Russia.”

Screams of ‘Conflict of interest!’ and ‘Impeachment!’ or even of ‘Treason!’ and ‘Imprisonment!’ would be bursting out of every MAGA mouth in a geyser of spittle. Yet the two statements were made by Trump’s sons, Donald Jr and Eric respectively, and MAGA mouths stayed shut, giving us all a welcome if brief respite.

Even Laura Loomer, whose adoration of Trump is nothing short of erotic, was aghast: “I love President Trump. I would take a bullet for him. But, I have to call a spade a spade. We cannot accept a $400 million ‘gift’ from jihadists in suits.”

The idea of Laura taking a bullet for Trump or indeed for anyone else isn’t without a certain appeal. But calling a spade a spade could get her into even bigger trouble in the current climate.

Trump dismissed the naysayers in a manner almost refreshing in its unalloyed cynicism: “I think it’s a great gesture from Qatar. I appreciate it very much. I would never be one to turn down that kind of an offer. I mean, I could be a stupid person saying ‘No, we don’t want a free, very expensive plane’.”

That Trump, with his amorality, both innate and lovingly cultivated over a lifetime, would never be the one to turn down a bribe, provided it’s big enough, is self-evident. As is the fact that his action is grossly unethical. But is it also unconstitutional?

Not according to Attorney General Pam Bondi, a comely blonde Trump found uniquely qualified to hold the top legal post in the US. Far be it from me to question her credentials, which do look a bit scanty, but in her pre-Trump life she was a lobbyist for Qatar. I’m not saying this ipso facto disqualifies her from ruling on this case, but, for appearances’ sake if nothing else, she should have recused herself.

In fact, Article 1, Section 9 of the Constitution forbids any US officeholder to “accept any present … of any kind whatever from any King, Prince, or foreign State” — without congressional approval. Commentators who mention this loophole usually add that it’s meaningless in this case since this Congress will rubber-stamp anything Trump wants.

Judging by the reaction of some of his closest supporters, I’m not so sure. If just a handful of Republicans oppose this gross corruption, it may never happen, and one hopes that there are some Republicans in Congress who don’t think morality and honour have a monetary equivalent.

When I first saw the photographs of the plane’s interior, I was sure it was designed by a Qatari artist with an eye on the emirs’ taste for kitschy opulence. I was then surprised to find out that the plane was actually designed by a reputable French firm, Albert Pinto Cabinet.

Surely they ought to know better? They probably do, but any commercial firm has to cater to the customers’ tastes. Had Albert Pinto designed the same Boeing for, say, King Charles III (not that he could afford it), it would look very different.

Suddenly it hit me: the interior of the plane was designed with the end user in mind. Aesthetically, it’s a flying Trump Tower, with its glistening gold paint everywhere, including on the walls of reflective gilded corridors, and the general air of tasteless gaudiness.

Yet the problem here goes way beyond aesthetics. Trump is urinating from the roof of his tallest tower on the dignity and honour of his office, one that demands qualities in excess of bean counting.

Accepting such a gift from anyone brings the institution of the presidency into disrepute. But the matter becomes infinitely graver when we consider the donor.

The plane is the quid (or rather 300 million quid at the current exchange rate). What’s the quo? For little in Qatari history supports the view that it’s bursting with affection for the US and the West in general. Its sympathies lie elsewhere. In fact, Laura Loomer’s description of the gift-bearers as “jihadists in suits” is spot on, and she now rates a footnote in my good books.

Since Hamas seized Gaza by force in 2007, Qatar has pumped some $1.8 billion into the territory. And after the 7 October massacre of Israeli civilians, Qatar’s foreign ministry released a statement holding “Israel alone responsible”.

Doha’s five-star hotels hospitably house Hamas dignitaries, such as Ismail Hanyeh, chief of Hamas’s political bureau, and Khaled Mashal, head of the Hamas diaspora office. The two jihadists are worth over $4 billion each, by the way.

In June 2017, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, and Egypt severed ties with Qatar and imposed a blockade on the country. Saudi Arabia said it did so to “protect national security from the dangers of terrorism and extremism,” while the UAE pointed out Qatar’s “ongoing policies that rattle the security and sovereignty of the region.”

Such considerations apparently don’t prevent the president of the United States from accepting gifts from Qatari “jihadists in suits”. Provided the gifts are expensive enough.

Vlad Putin, take notice, you’re on next. May I suggest a yacht worth more than $400 million? Yes, that should work.

Vile MAGA attacks on Robert Prevost started the moment he became Pope Leo XIV.

Using the language favoured by the MAGA demiurge, podcaster Joey Mannarino called him a “liberal piece of s**t”. Laura Loomer, the half-crazy conspiracy theorist, adopted her idol’s syntax by writing “MARXIST POPE!” in all-caps.

Quite. But then she also claimed that Springfield, Ohio, was inhabited by “20,000 cannibalistic Haitians”, and that the American ‘deep state’ had created a winter storm before the Iowa presidential caucuses to boost the chances of an anti-Trump Republican.

Like all cults, MAGA attracts a plethora of unbalanced individuals, and not only in the US. Their typical claim is that everything Trump says or does is right because Trump says or does it, which effectively deifies their idol. After all, only God is always right.

That’s a first step on the road to madness. Of course, equally insane is the opposite claim that diabolises Trump by insisting that everything he says or does is wrong just because it’s Trump who says or does it.

All ideological zealotry courts mental illness by disengaging reason and replacing it with febrile emotions. That’s why MAGA is as objectionable as anti-MAGA, and the statement “Trump was right about everything” is as inane as “Trump was wrong about everything” (even if the former marginally less so).

However, proceeding as I usually do from an aesthetic rather than party-political starting point, I find both sides not so much equally wrong as equally tasteless, which, to me, is the greater failing. And nowhere is it more manifest than when either side co-opts Jesus to its cause.

Jesus Christ isn’t for or against MAGA, and he is neither a Democrat nor a Republican. He is the second hypostasis of God, accepted as such by 2.4 billion people around the globe. And as Jesus himself stated in no uncertain terms, his kingdom is not of this world.

His is the kingdom in which all Christians are subjects and the Pope is the viceroy. This doesn’t mean that the two worlds don’t overlap at all. But when they do, and a Pope pronounces on quotidian affairs, he does so strictly as God’s vicar on earth, not as a mitre-wearing version of JD Vance.

For all I know, Pope Leo may well be a liberal or even a Marxist, or then again he may not. Let’s wait and see, shall we? Give us a little time to get to know His Holiness. So far all we know is that he is American, and a registered Republican to boot.

As Cardinal Prevost, he had an exemplary missionary record in Peru, living the life of his flock and sharing in their hardships and dangers. At the same time, I’m not aware of any flirtation with liberation theology, a popular aberration in those parts.

The pontiff has a good face, and he is also a tennis player which testifies to his character. A man who chases fuzzy yellow balls can’t be all bad, as far as I’m concerned, although I may be biased.

The vitriol he is drawing from MAGA zealots was caused by several instances when His Holiness dared to express mild criticism of Trump and his acolytes. To that lot no such criticism is ever mild or, God forbid, justified. One word against, and the hapless critic is Satan’s spawn, if not the devil himself.

Specifically, when still a cardinal, His Holiness committed the sacrilege of pointing out that JD Vance was speaking out of turn when trying to marry Catholic doctrine with Trump’s immigration policy. And he was absolutely right.

This is what JD, who calls himself a Catholic, said: “There is a Christian concept that you love your family and then you love your neighbour, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens, and then after that, prioritize the rest of the world. A lot of the far left has completely inverted that.”

I don’t think that “a lot of the far left” think in theological terms, and, come to think of it, neither should JD. At least not until he has read up on the subject. Even then, he should realise that dragging in Catholic doctrine to score party-political points is vulgarity at its most soaring.

He was referring to the doctrine of ordo amoris, order of love, first put forth by St Augustine and later expounded by St Thomas Aquinas. However, neither of them made an overt statement about Donald Trump’s policy regarding illegal aliens.

What Augustine meant by ordo amoris was that one should love God first, people second and material things a distant third. And Jesus specifically refused to categorise love depending on the object’s proximity to oneself.

On the contrary, when asked, “Who is my neighbour?”, he responded with the parable of the Good Samaritan, whom Trump and Vance would probably describe as an alien, and possibly an illegal one. Yet it was that foreigner who treated a wounded man with kindness, and so it was he who was the true neighbour.

In Luke 14:26 JC disavows JD explicitly, perhaps anticipating the onset of ignorant Christianist vulgarity 2,000 years later: “If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.”

And also: “For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye?… And if ye salute your brethren only, when do ye more than others?”

Unlike Vance, Christ establishes a different pecking order of love: God first, then everyone else regardless of kinship, origin or their feelings about you. St Paul was also unequivocal on this subject: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.” What, even illegal aliens?

While adopting the doctrine of ordo amoris, Aquinas emphasised that love must be first offered those who are in greater need of it, not necessarily to one’s own family:

“For it must be understood that, other things being equal, one ought to succour those rather who are most closely connected with us. And if of two, one be more closely connected, and the other in greater want, it is not possible to decide, by any general rule, which of them we ought to help rather than the other, since there are various degrees of want as well as of connection… .”

Let me stress that I’m not criticising Trump’s immigration policy. In fact, from the standpoint of this world’s politics, his administration is doing what needs to be done, if not always how it ought to be done. But the Pope looks at such matters from a different standpoint – and he recognises that it’s indeed different.

Vance doesn’t. He tried to blend the two standpoints into one and succeeded only in confirming his credentials as an ignorant vulgarian who doesn’t understand Catholic doctrine but tries to twist it for political gain. That makes him a bad Catholic too.

Well, at least he is unlikely to imitate his co-religionist Biden who throughout his career voted for every anti-Catholic legislation, specifically on abortion. If these chaps can’t do politics along Christian lines, they should just shut up about religion and attend to their day job as best they can.  

Trump described the US-UK trade deal with his favourite adjective, ‘beautiful’. Well, if you don’t mind the old saw, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

And this beholder can’t help asking the question in the title above. This beholder looks at the key personages involved, who are Trump, Starmer and Mandelson, considers the source and then looks for the catch.

Tory leader Kemi Badenoch went further than just asking a polite question. Switching from the interrogative to the affirmative mode, she expressed herself in the elegant style we’ve learned to expect from politicians. According to her, Britain has been “shafted”. Well, at least she didn’t say ‘f***ed’. Good to see that some restraints are still in place, for the time being.

Perhaps the coital reference was a tad too strong, but the US does come out ahead when all is said and done. British tariffs on American goods were 5.1 per cent on average before the deal and are now 1.8 per cent. However, US tariffs on Britain were 3.4 per cent and are now 10 per cent, just as they are on most other countries. That’s what Trump calls “reciprocal”.

Where Britain got some relief was in the tariffs on car, steel and aluminium exports. Our car exports were spared the extra 27.5 per cent tariff Trump has slapped on everyone else, while the tariffs on our steel and aluminium go down to zero.

Yet even 10 per cent is four times the 2.5 per cent tariff on our cars that was in effect before Trump’s misnomer, ‘Liberation Day’. Still, things could have been much worse, and Messrs Starmer, Mandelson et al. are jubilant. This is great news for British luxury car makers, they say.

This inspires another question: What British luxury car makers? It’s true that British labour is still used to manufacture those vehicles. But all the profits go to the company owners, who are none of them British.

McLaren is owned by the Kingdom of Bahrain. Aston Martin, by a Canadian consortium. Land Rover, Range Rover and Jaguar, by the Indian Company Tate. Rolls Royce, by BMW. Bentley, by Volkswagen. These are the real winners in this so-so deal, although it’s true that some British jobs will be saved.

In return, US agricultural products, including beef and ethanol, will enjoy easier access to UK markets, which gets our farmers’ overalls in a twist. According to the National Farmers’ Union, its members are the ones bearing the brunt of the reduced tariffs.

On the plus side, American chlorinated chickens and hormone-laden beef will remain banned in Britain, although US meats conforming to British food standards will be coming in on a larger scale. This is good news for me, what with the taste of Texas steaks remaining for ever a fond memory.

Yet one part of the trade deal upsets my sense of balance and insults my intelligence, which hates being insulted. Trump said that the agreement had been struck “because of Brexit”, and he is right.

Neither this agreement nor the one with India signed earlier this week would have happened had Britain still had the yoke of the EU around her neck. If Trump and I agree on one thing, it’s certainly our feelings about that bureaucratic monstrosity with socialist leanings.

However, as part of the deal, Starmer has given Trump a virtual veto over Chinese investments in Britain. Specifically, the US has concerns about Chinese companies buying up key infrastructure in Britain, and it’s a valid concern.

China should be treated as a hostile power that can’t be allowed to gain control over such strategic resources as our electronic communications, transport or power supply. However, giving a foreign country, however friendly it may be, a veto power over Britain’s economic policy doesn’t sit well with Brexit ideals.

Some 10 years ago, when I still had access to the rarefied atmosphere of British politics, I chatted with some leaders of UKIP, the progenitor of today’s Reform Party. We agreed that Cameron’s government was useless, and some of its economic policies were inferior even to their EU equivalents.

That, however, wasn’t the point, I was told. It’s better for our own government to adopt bad policies than to let those bloody foreigners impose their policies on Britain, however good they might be. That’s what sovereignty is all about.

That argument made sense, and it still does. Sovereignty means that all our policies are established by our own government, not that contrivance in Brussels, and endorsed by our own Parliament, not that aberration in Strasbourg.

But how is relinquishing our sovereignty to the US any different from relinquishing it to the EU? It’s not, and I’m not going to swallow that old chestnut about the ‘special relationship’.

Trump has every right to be concerned about China’s strategic muscle growing in bulk and strength. But we shouldn’t depend on foreign countries to save us from the craven stupidity of His Majesty’s Government. Isn’t that what Brexit is all about?

One outcome of this trade agreement, and also the one with India, isn’t what Sir Keir intended. His federastic loins are aching to sneak Britain back into the EU through a crack in the back door.

That door has always remained ajar, and Britain didn’t just turn around and walk out. Her exit wasn’t what is called ‘French leave’ in English and ‘English leave’ in French (another example of such mutual appreciation is that a certain contraceptive is called ‘French letter’ in English slang and ‘capote anglaise’ in the French equivalent). Britain didn’t really leave, banging the door behind her.

Hundreds of EU laws are still in force here, and we still haven’t left the European Convention on Human Rights, a pernicious pact making it next to impossible for Britain to limit the influx of illegal immigration. It’s as if our two main parties, both predominantly Remain, are reluctant to burn the bridges, hoping one day to use them to walk back across the Channel.

All in all, I can’t describe this deal as ‘beautiful’, ‘major’ or ‘comprehensive’. Its economic benefits are slight, though not non-existent.

In general, however, whenever tariffs come down, it’s a good thing even if the reductions aren’t exactly equitable. What’s unequivocally welcome about this agreement is that dragging Britain back into the EU will now become more difficult. That’s quite a big deal.

Today’s Victory in Europe Day marks the 80^th anniversary of the unconditional surrender of Nazi troops in Europe.

The surrender entered into force at 23:01 on 8 May. Because the time in Moscow was an hour later, the Russians celebrate victory on 9 May.

This also gives them the chance to emphasise the difference between their own war effort and that of the Western Allies. The difference is indeed huge, but not in the way the Russians mean.

Even Stalin himself acknowledged that the Soviet Union would have lost the war but for the Allies’ help. Yet that’s not what the post-war generations were taught in Russia. The Allies were at best assigned a minor role in the hostilities, if any. And Putin still says that the Soviet Union stood alone.

Ask Russians when the Soviet Union entered the war, and most of them – in my day, practically all – will say 22 June, 1941, the day when the Nazis attacked the Soviets. Such people merely regurgitate the line fed to them by cradle-to-grave propaganda.

In the West, the start of the Second World War fell on 1 September, 1939, when the Nazis invaded Poland. A day later, England and France honoured their treaty obligations by declaring war on Germany.

Some historians consider that date arbitrary. They nominate other, earlier events to act as catalysts and real starts of the Second World War. The 1938 surrender at Munich gets quite a few votes, as do the Anschluss, the occupation of Czechoslovakia, Italy’s assault on Ethiopia (Abyssinia, as it then was) or Japan’s foray into Manchuria.

Yet 1 September, 1939, still leads by a wide margin in scholarly opinion. My own preference is 24 August, 1939, when the foreign ministers of Germany and the USSR, Ribbentrop and Molotov, signed the Nazi-Soviet Pact, with Stalin flashing an avuncular smile in the background.

The secret protocol of the Pact, the existence of which the Soviets continued to deny for decades, divided Europe between the two totalitarian predators. That was, in my view, when the war really started, not just when it became inevitable.

The Germans moved into Poland a week later, on 1 September, to claim their share of the spoils. A deal is a deal, agreed Stalin, and on 17 September Soviet troops invaded Poland from the east, putting an end to the country’s stubborn resistance.

Stalin started as he meant to go on. The Soviets promptly occupied the three Baltic republics and Bessarabia, which had been mentioned in the secret protocol, and even Bukovina, which hadn’t been. Yet Hitler just shrugged: what’s another province more or less. Let Stalin have his fun.

Finland was also identified in the Pact as Stalin’s rightful possession, and on 30 November, 1939, the Soviets launched a massive assault to claim ownership. The vastly outnumbered Finns, however, presaged today’s Ukrainians by beating the Soviets to a standstill, managing to preserve their independence and 89 per cent of their territory.

Now, the Soviets captured the Baltics, Bessarabia and Bukovina without a shot. But they lost 737 KIA in Poland and some 120,000 in Finland (estimates vary from 53,000 to 200,000, but that kind of arithmetic never bothered Russian or Soviet leaders).

At the same time, 17,269 German soldiers were killed in 1939, when the Second World War started with that assault on Poland. So which war were the Soviet soldiers killed in, before 22 June, 1941? The same one, of course. This means the Soviets entered the war in August, 1939, unofficially, and in September, 1939, officially.

Why are they so coy about that date? Simple. They don’t want to acknowledge the obvious fact that the Soviet Union entered the war as an ally to Hitler and hence enemy to the West, including Britain.

The Soviets kept their end of the bargain by more than just knifing Poland in the back. According to the terms of the Pact, they were shipping trainloads after trainloads of raw materials to Germany, including 16 per cent of her crude oil.

When, due to the heroism of the RAF Fighter Command, the Battle of Britain kept raging on longer than expected and the Luftwaffe was running out of bombs, the Soviets happily made up the deficit. Many Britons were killed by bombs bearing Soviet markings.

Yet the two totalitarian allies both regarded their cooperation as an ad hoc marriage of convenience. Both were planning to strike against their temporary friend, making the conquest of Europe their own undivided achievement.

That Stalin was planning to attack Germany, ideally if the Nazis landed in Britain and got bogged down in a desperate fight, is an historical fact. Historians agree that Hitler beat Stalin to the punch on 22 June, 1941, but they aren’t sure by how much. Some say a month, some a week, and the Russian historian Mark Solonin makes a good argument in favour of just a single day.

One way or another, beat Stalin to the punch Hitler did, which instantly created an unnatural, if necessary, alliance between Stalin and the Western powers he cordially wished to destroy. After VE Day things got back to normal, and a confrontation between Russia and the West returned.

Yet it never came down to a shooting war because for the next several decades international law was more or less respected – not everywhere and not at all times, but at least the two hostile camps never came to nuclear blows. The reason is evident.

Neither individuals nor nations respect the law only out of the goodness of their hearts. They do so because of effective enforcement.

Acting as the enforcer of post-war international law was the USA, the only country that came out of the war stronger than she had been going in. Specifically, the Soviet nuclear gun stayed in its holster because America’s gun was at least as big, and she was as ready to brandish it.

That situation has changed. The US manifestly no longer has either the means to police the world nor indeed the wish to do so. No one else has stepped up to assume that role, and we can confidently assume that no one else will.

That’s why the world is in greater danger of another world war than it has been for 80 years. Any number of conflicts around the globe can potentially turn into a lethal vortex sucking the whole world in.

Russia’s aggression against the Ukraine is continuing, and Putin’s cabal makes no secret that it sees the Ukraine not as the final destination but as a stopover along the way. India and Pakistan, nuclear powers both, are about to start a major war. Iran either already has a nuclear bomb or will acquire one shortly, and you know whom the ayatollahs will drop it on. China may attack Taiwan at any moment, dislodging the US from her perch of Pacific dominance.

The West clings to its customary position of supine appeasement and, in the absence of American support, won’t stop doing so until directly attacked, if then. In our attempt to get fat on the mythical peace dividend, we have stripped our military down to the bone.

Should push come to shove this time, things will be disintegrating much faster than in 1939. What used to take months may now take days, perhaps even hours. And yet Europe again lies bare, open to a possible enemy thrust.

Today we celebrate the heroism of the soldiers who died to create a peace that lasted for so long. Such a prolonged period without a major war was an aberration in European history, for war is a natural state of man, a direct result of original sin.

As victory drums roll and bugles toot, we should all doff our hats in memory of those fallen. But while we commemorate the end of one monstrous war, we should prepare for the next one. Because if we don’t, it’ll be sure to come.

Si vis pacem, para bellum, as the Romans used to say. If you want peace, prepare for war.

Happy VE Day!

Good satire makes you laugh. Great satire also makes you think.

Great satirists are able to penetrate the essence of their targets, all the way down to human nature in general. They thereby approach universality, transcending their own time and place.

This is true of Aristophanes, Juvenal, Rabelais, Swift, one or two others. I’d also include a few Russians in that category, especially Gogol and his lesser-known near-contemporary Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin (d. 1889).

Few writers anywhere have ever possessed Gogol’s artistic genius, but as far as the universal appeal of their satire, I’d go so far as to say that Saltykov was superior. Gogol’s targets were too deeply embedded in the Russian soil, whereas the shock waves of Saltykov’s bombs reached the whole world.

Still, Russia was at the epicentre, and today’s Russian rulers, hellbent on all that Third Rome nonsense, are taking Saltykov’s books out of school curricula. They don’t want the pupils’ virginal souls to be sullied with any criticism of Holy Russia.

Now, I actually wrote about Saltykov back in 2016, translating some of his aphorisms and letting them speak for themselves. This time around I’ll add a few parenthetical comments, pointing out how widely Saltykov’s wit applies to today’s West in general or some specific countries in particular.

I think you’ll find they read like contemporary reportage:

“Credit,” he was explaining to Kolia Persianov, “is when you have no money… you follow? You have no money, but then – bang! – you’ve got it.” “But, mon cher, what if they demand repayment?” Kolia lisped. “Fool! You can’t even understand such simple things! If you’ve got to repay – more credit. Repay again – still more credit! All states live that way nowadays!”

They still do: there isn’t a state in the West that pays its way. France, Germany, all Anglophone countries, Japan are bending to breaking point under the intolerable burden of national debt. And, following Saltykov’s prescription, they somewhat illogically try to spend their way out of indebtedness.

“Mon cher,” Krutitsyn would say, “divide everything up equally today, and tomorrow inequality will still reign.”

This was a slap in the face of socialists, who already in the 19^th century began to dominate the intellectual landscape. The idea of redistributive justice is just as popular today, and one would think that the abject failure of every attempt to practise it in earnest would warn people off.

When all you get for our rouble abroad is fifty kopeks, that’s fine. The trouble will start when all you get is a punch in the snout.

Replace ‘rouble’ with ‘dollar’, and I think American travellers to Europe will nod with sad understanding. The dollar has already lost 10 per cent of its exchange value as a result of Trump’s shenanigans, and it’ll continue its downward slide as long as they persevere.

They sat thinking how to turn their loss-making business into a profitable one without changing anything.

Does this remind you of how our government operates? British ministers, Tory and Labour alike, bemoan high public spending – and never lower it, quite the opposite. They know that our comprehensive schools churn out ignoramuses, and do nothing other than making the schools worse. They promise to make the NHS more efficient, and do nothing other than making it less efficient.

When has there ever been a bureaucrat who wasn’t sure that Russia is a pie he can freely approach, slice and sample?

Our public service has become rather self-serving. Look at any government department, and you’ll see untold riches disappearing into some dark hole, eventually, one suspects, finding their way into someone’s deep pockets. British officials aren’t as corrupt (this way, at any rate) as some of their continental colleagues, but this is only a difference of degree.

Idiots are generally very dangerous, and not because they are necessarily evil, but because they aren’t aware of any restraints and always charge ahead, as if the road they are on belongs to them only.

Do you recognise any Western leader in this sketch? I’ll give you a clue: although teetotal, he shares his initials with delirium tremens.

Russian powers-that-be must keep the people in a state of constant bewilderment.

Replace ‘Russian’ with any Western nation, and you’ll recognise the modus operandi with ease. Especially, but not necessarily, if you again cast your eye across the Atlantic.

Education must be leavened with moderation, avoiding bloodshed if at all possible.

Khmer Rouge leaders, from Pol Pot down, received the full benefit of liberal education at the Sorbonne and other French universities. They then reminded us that nowadays ‘liberal’ means despotic by annihilating a third of Cambodia’s population. This is an extreme example, but much of today’s education everywhere spans the range from blood-curdling to potentially blood-spilling.

God’s world apparently has corners where all periods are transitional.

‘Jam tomorrow’ used to be the stock in trade of communist tyrannies. Just tighten your belts for a while, comrades, and universal bliss will arrive in due course. But these days I struggle to think of a Western government that doesn’t make versions of such promises to the people. We are in transition, just bear with us for a year or two, and all your problems will be over – where have I heard that? Where have you? The same places: government statements.

The strictness of Russian laws is mitigated by optional compliance therewith.

Again, replace ‘Russian’ with your favourite geographical adjective, and you’ll find that police forces and courts take a lackadaisical approach to enforcing the law. Unless, of course, the transgression was committed against the state and the ethos it’s trying to inculcate.

It’s but one step from irony to subversion.

In my Soviet youth, one could go to prison for telling a joke deemed subversive. It’s refreshing to see how assiduously our woke governments are trying to emulate that model. It’s enough to crack a joke someone out there claims to be offensive for the wag to have his collar felt. Or perhaps, for the time being, only to receive a warning visit from the police – but the beauty of progress is that its momentum accelerates.

A citizen is always guilty of something.

When some laws are stupid, all laws tend to lose respect. While laws going back to the Decalogue are enforced with ever-increasing laxness, woke, which is to say stupid, laws turn practically every citizen into a law-breaker.

Nowadays, Mum, they live without a husband as if with a husband. Nowadays they mock religious prescriptions. They find a bush, get hitched under it – and Bob’s your uncle. They call it civil marriage.

There, Saltykov charted the road for modernity to follow, but even his fecund imagination fell short of foreseeing some destinations along the way. He was right about mocking religious prescriptions – this is commonplace these days. But his invoking civil marriage as the regrettable outcome is too tame. I wonder what Saltykov would write today, reading stories about a man who used to be a woman bearing a child by a woman who used to be a man, and then the happy couple getting married, possibly in church.

When spreading wise thoughts, one can’t avoid being called a bastard.

Or a fascist. Or a reactionary. Or a racist. Or something worse. Any attempt to spread wise thoughts runs the risk of rude opprobrium or, increasingly often, ‘cancellation’.

In 1849 the French journalist Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr came up with a spiffy epigram: the more things change, the more they remain the same (plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose).

I think you’ll agree that Saltykov-Shchedrin’s aphorisms go a long way towards vindicating the one by his French contemporary. Perhaps, with the benefit of hindsight, we can slightly embellish Karr’s adage: the more things change, they don’t just remain the same. They change for the worse.

“Know thy enemy” was wise advice issued by the Chinese strategist Sun Tzu some 2,500 years ago.

His book The Art of War was (for all I know still is) on the curricula of Russian military and KGB academies. I don’t know if their British counterparts are educated in that spirit, but it’s clear that even some of our best commentators aren’t.

Not to cut too fine a point, they know little about Russia and understand even less. Since they are in the business of forming public opinion, which affects policy in democracies, they cause untold harm.

Russia, after all, has been hostile to the West since before the country got its name. Ever since the Kievan Grand Duke Vladimir chose Byzantine rather than Western Christianity for his subjects in the 10^th century, what eventually became Russia has always treated the West with suspicion, enmity and contempt.

Various Russian rulers, from the grand dukes to the tsars, emperors, Party secretaries, and presidents, have been quite forthright about this. Unfortunately, however, the West has typically refused to take them at their word.

Whenever seminal changes occur in Russia, the West’s usual reaction is to heave a sigh of relief. Yes, Russia used to be our enemy. But now, thanks to [the new tsar, the new Party leader, glasnost, perestroika, the new president], she is our friend. After all, the Russians have always wanted to be like us.

They haven’t. They’ve always wanted to possess the material abundance of the West, while loathing the ethos that produced the riches. A mugger doesn’t want to be like the man he robs. He just wants the chap’s smartphone.

Failure to understand Russia is caused by the Westerners’ smug, philistine belief that those who aren’t like them desperately want to be. It’s also caused by plain ignorance, which becomes truly toxic when the Russians succeed yet again in tricking the West, a pastime they’ve elevated to virtuosic art.

Thus, when 30-odd years ago I and a few other chaps cursed with both a native and academic knowledge of Russia were screaming ourselves hoarse, trying to explain to a triumphant West that perestroika was an exercise in strategic deception, we were dismissed out of hand.

What happened in the early 90s, we were told, was the ultimate and irreversible victory of liberal democracy, not, as we so maliciously averred, merely a transfer of power from the Party to the KGB fused with organised crime. Many of those doubters have since told me I was right, but it’s too late.

The dominant line, expressed most idiotically by Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History, encouraged Western governments to pour technology and finance into Russia. A decade later Russia regained her strength and became a frankly fascist country bristling with aggressive intent. A few more years, and she pounced.

This brings me to Charles Moore, who is indeed one of our best pundits – but only when he writes on the numerous subjects he knows something about. Russia, alas, isn’t one of them, but these days ignorance hardly deters anyone from expressing an opinion.

Lord Moore, as he then wasn’t, was one of the perestroika enthusiasts, although, being a cultured Englishman, he refrained from extreme pronouncements, Fukuyama-style. Since then he has come around to realising what kind of genie leapt out of the vodka bottle, largely due to the West’s acquiescence and assistance.

Yet, should another deceptive zigzag occur in Russian policy, Lord Moore is likely to fall for the next canard as easily as he fell for the previous one. It takes knowledge of Russia not to, and he doesn’t have it, even if his heart is now in the right place.

This is a harsh judgement, but I can prove it by citing his article in today’s Telegraph. Commenting on Putin’s order to rename the airport of Volgograd ‘Stalingrad International Airport’, Lord Moore writes:

“In 1925, Volgograd became Stalingrad for the first time, in honour of the Soviet Union’s then fairly new all-powerful dictator…

“In 1961, with Stalin eight years dead and his personality cult cancelled, Khrushchev’s Soviet government restored Volgograd to its original name.”

God bless him and us all, but the man does think Volgograd was the city’s original name. It wasn’t. It was Tsaritsyn, founded in 1589 and named after the nearby river Tsaritsa, a Volga tributary that no longer exists. ‘Tsar’ means, well, tsar, and ‘Tsaritsa’ stands for queen, the female equivalent.

Due to its strategic position on the Volga, Tsaritsyn often became a battlefield, coveted as it was by both Russia and her assorted adversaries, from rebellious peasants to the remnants of the Golden Horde. Closer to our time, the Battle of Tsaritsyn was the pivotal clash of the Civil War perpetrated by the Bolsheviks as a method of population control.

The Reds won that battle on the Volga, largely thanks to the presence of Stalin, Lenin’s viceroy in the region. It was because of his role in the victory that Tsaritsyn was renamed Stalingrad five years after the Civil War ended.

Actually, though Stalin had moved to the forefront of Soviet politics when Lenin died in 1924, he hadn’t yet become the “all-powerful dictator”. That ascent happened in 1927, as most historians agree and Lord Moore doesn’t know.

These are all elementary facts and anyone who doesn’t know them can be confidently predicted not to know much of anything else about Russia. Nor does he possess the educational or intuitive wherewithal to understand what’s happening there – and predict what’s likely to happen.

Therefore such a man shouldn’t write on this vital subject and, if he still chooses to do so, he shouldn’t be published in a reputable paper. But clearly they have no fact-checkers at the Telegraph who are any more knowledgeable on the subject than Lord Moore is.

Still, if good men like him stop writing about Russia, they’ll leave the field to the likes of Hitchens who are just as ignorant but, either for ideological or pecuniary reasons, insist on preaching the cause of Russian fascism.

So, Lord Moore, I take it all back. Please continue writing about Russia, but do take the trouble of checking your facts. Even such a primitive source of knowledge as Wikipedia is better than nothing.

P.S. In case you ever doubted it, woke lunacy is a progressive disease, double entendre intended. For the past several centuries, the request “All rise” has accompanied judges’ entry into courts. This is now to be replaced with an ‘inclusive’ “All rise, if able”.

It used to go without saying that defendants, lawyers and witnesses paralysed from the waist down would remain seated, with no one making much of a fuss about it. Now the need has arisen to create “a more welcoming environment” for them.

I’m beginning to believe we don’t deserve to survive. I wonder what Putin thinks about it.

Donald Trump yet again demonstrated his innate taste, further honed at Atlantic City casinos. To celebrate the forthcoming opening of the conclave assembled to appoint a new pontiff, Trump posted an AI photograph of himself as Pope.

Many commentators screamed ‘blasphemy’ and ‘mockery’, while the Republicans Against Trump website wrote: “Trump just posted a photo of himself as the pope. It’s full-on lunacy at this point.”

All those comments are correct. Trump’s idea of a joke is indeed blasphemous and mocking, and I too have wondered for quite a while whether the Donald is certifiable.

I’m no shrink, just a reasonably well-read layman, but to my eye Trump’s behaviour is increasingly bizarre. Most lamentable lack of self-awareness, huge mood swings, unrestrained narcissism, the tendency to mouth mutually exclusive things within days, sometimes hours, of one another – all these are symptoms of a personality disorder, and I’ll leave it for professionals to diagnose it accurately.

Whether or not he is going insane, Trump is still eminently capable of looking out for Number One, meaning himself and his family. As Dominic Lawson pointed out in yesterday’s article, the Trumps control a cryptocurrency business called World Liberty Financial.

He promotes it on Truth Social, a platform managed by Donald Jr. I don’t know whether the family takes advantage of the numerous possibilities for corruption the cryptocurrency offers, but the platform itself is quite lucrative.

Trump uses it, rather than official White House channels, to announce his changes of heart on tariffs, which are as regular as they are market-sensitive. Hence market traders feel they have to subscribe to the platform to stay half a step ahead. This boosts the family’s profits at the time when those same U-turns are beggaring millions of Americans.

Trump is also offering wealthy businessmen the pleasure of his company at a Mar-a-Lago dinner for a modest fee of up to $5 million. To quote Mr Lawson: “As one of Trump’s political opponents pointed out on the floor of the Senate, ‘If you were mayor of a medium-sized town and it was reported that you were selling meetings for, like, $200, you would be arrested’.”

But getting back to Trump’s witty photographic joke, the first word that came to my mind when I saw it this morning was neither ‘blasphemous’ nor ‘mocking’, although they do apply.

The picture was unspeakably vulgar, and it belongs in the encyclopaedia to illustrate the entry for Vulgarity, n. On second thoughts, any other snapshot of Trump would do as well, for vulgarity is the dominant trait of his personality.

However, when vulgarity has Christianity in its sights, it’s a deadly weapon, more so in my view than even blasphemy and mockery. It’s a steady imposition of vulgarity on Christian worship that’s largely responsible for Christianity’s demise as a dynamic social and cultural force.

As far as I’m concerned, Trump is no Christian, despite all his entreaties for God to bless America, which is de rigueur for any US politician. Britons tend to regard that sort of thing as tawdry, and I for one can’t imagine a British PM ending a speech with “God bless the United Kingdom”. If he tried, he’d be laughed out of Westminster.

Trump was raised as a Presbyterian, but back in 2020 declared himself to be non-denominational, whatever that means. Here I must admit to a weakness: for me, there exist two kinds of Christianity I readily recognise as such: Western Catholic and Eastern Orthodox.

On everything else, including all Protestant denominations, I agree with Hilaire Belloc who regarded them as heresies. Some of my friends, who are kinder than me, and perhaps also better Christians, talk about all those sectarians, denominational or otherwise, as ‘brothers in Christ’.

Yes, and Cain was Abel’s brother. Then, come to think of it, Arians, Gnostics, Chiliasts, Pelagians also believed in Christ, after a fashion. However, if their fashion had prevailed, Christianity would only be remembered, if at all, as an attempt to reform Judaism in the early days of the Roman Empire. Looking at what’s happening to Christianity today, it’s hard not to see Protestantism as the anteroom of atheism.

To paraphrase Wilde, all sects and heresies are vulgar, although the mainstream churches are doing their best to keep up. Just compare these two excerpts from Matthew 1:25, the first one from the King James Version, the second from the NRSV. Both talk about Mary, Joseph and the Virgin Birth.

KJV: “… and knew her not till she had brought forth her firstborn son.”

NRSV: “… but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son.”

What tone-deaf vulgarian thought that the new line was an improvement on the old one? How could any genuine believer introduce the ugly euphemistic locution ‘marital relations’ into a scriptural text?

If to Dostoyevsky beauty could save the world, vulgarity can destroy it. That’s why it pains me to see at the helm in the West’s most powerful nation a man whose salient traits Dominic Lawson describes, alliteratively, as “vanity, viciousness, venality and vulgarity”.

Oh well, as long as Trump doesn’t turn to translating the Bible in his retirement.

…but Nigel Farage may.

Following a Reform landslide in local elections and also its overturning an almost 17,000 Labour majority to gain the Runcorn seat in Parliament, everyone is mulling the possibility of a Reform government.

I doubt it’ll ever happen. Third parties tend not to carry the day in our first-past-the-post system, which on balance is a good thing. Proportional representation often makes countries ungovernable, and it tends to empower marginal parties too much.

People are saying that our essentially two-party system is broken, but it isn’t. What’s broken is the two parties, Labour and Tories. They seem to have set out to prove that it’s unnecessary to have to choose between subversive and incompetent. Britain can have both.

Labour and Tories are in broad agreement on everything guaranteed to turn Britain into a full-fledged Third World country. They only disagree on how quickly and comprehensively that worthy goal should be achieved.

Fanatical commitment to beggaring Britain with net zero, ideological reluctance to stem the influx of alien migration, unquenchable thirst for extorting people’s money in one form or another, totemistic worship of the NHS, wokery, enthusiastic endorsement of every perversion described in medical literature and some that aren’t, marshmallow softness on crime, eagerness to foment class war, wholehearted attempts to disarm Britain, clear preference for public over private sector, systematic replacement of education with indoctrination – it takes a magnifying glass, nay an electronic microscope, to detect the wafer-thin demarcation between the two parties.

Tory leader Kemi Badenoch makes some conservative-sounding noises, but she gives no indication how she plans to translate them into policy and, if ever elected, policy into action. Boris Johnson credits her with “the most original political mind” among the party leaders, but he is being too chivalrous, a failing he seldom displayed before.

Kemi doesn’t have an original political mind because one manifestation of such cerebral excellence is coming up with original political ideas. Yet I’ve never heard her enunciate any idea whose provenance can’t be traced back to some old and venerable source.

Partly this isn’t her fault: after 5,000 years of recorded history, there aren’t many political tricks that haven’t been either considered or tried. Even Margaret Thatcher, who was 100 times the politician Kemi Badenoch will ever be, didn’t have any original ideas.

She had the resolve and the guts to go back to some solid ideas of the past, such as returning some power to the private sector and reminding the people that sometimes they had to fend for themselves. Look up the books by Whig politicians, from Burke onwards, some of their contemporary economists, such as Smith, some Anglo-American conservative thinkers of the 20^th century, and there you’ll have Thatcherism, chapter and verse.

Boris Johnson, writing with his characteristic facile fluency, says the Reform landslide proves that underneath it all the English are naturally conservative. I don’t think it proves anything of the sort. It’s just that the people finally realised that, when they look for the lesser evil in one of the two parties, they end up choosing both evils.

This time they are angry, and their ire became so febrile that they were prepared to vote for any other than Labour and Tory candidates. Had a chap advocating the murder of every first-born boy been on the ballot, he could have won too.

Neither Badenoch nor her likely successor, Robert Jenrick, that walking advertisement for a crash diet regimen, is much of a political thinker, certainly not an original one. But they should have enough nous to realise that their way back to power is to reinvent the Tory Party. Following Chesterton’s advice, they must boldly discover what has been discovered before.

They must do their job, which, for politicians, means winning elections. They ought to realise that the people don’t want conservatism. They want something, anything, new, and if that happens to be conservatism, they’ll take it. The danger is that, should it prove to be fascism or communism, they might be equally receptive.

Yet at the moment their Pavlovian reaction to conservative noises seems to be sharp. Looking at Farage’s manifesto, Kemi-Robert-Boris must sense how those noises should be pitched.

In medical care, Reform advocates a version of the French system, with both private and public sectors chipping in. This will involve tax breaks for private treatment and insurance, tax exemption for front-line workers and so forth. That’s a good idea.

However, since the NHS has been elevated to a secular cult, every effort must be made to sell our gullible public the idea that it’s the same sainted NHS, except it’s no longer wholly funded by the state. Observing how avidly the electorate swallows any canard on offer, this may require a bit of legerdemain, but it can be done.

In the economy, Reform stands for reducing taxes across the board, which includes raising the income tax threshold to £20,000, thereby exempting six million people from paying income tax – so much for Reform only wanting to lower taxes for the rich. Inheritance levies, corporate taxes, stamp duty will also be reduced significantly: for example, abolishing inheritance tax for all estates under two million, as opposed to under £250,000 at present, would be a tremendous boost to families.

On environment, Reform stands for abandoning net zero, going nuclear again, resuming exploration in the North Sea and scrapping green energy subsidies. All good.

Unfortunately, the manifesto also includes the promise to nationalise utility companies, which has led some commentators to bemoan Farage’s shift to the Left. In fact, he hasn’t shifted in that direction, not indeed one inch from his visceral populism.

Britons are paying some of the highest energy bills in the world, and the promise to “stop consumers being ripped off” resonates with them. If a charismatic figure like Farage says that nationalising water and ‘lectric serves that purpose, they’ll believe him. At this point, they’d believe him even if he insisted that eviscerating Ed Miliband would lower their bills.

And so on, all the way down the list. In fact, Reform’s manifesto overlaps with Trump’s pronouncements so much that one could believe they are a cooperative effort. That wouldn’t be the first time in history: some of the same people took part in inspiring and even drafting Stalin’s Five-Year Plan, Hitler’s Four-Year version and Roosevelt’s New Deal.

With his finger never far from the public pulse, Farage has sensed that Trump is hardly the flavour of the month in Britain. Hence he has made some astute moves to distance himself from Mar-a-Lago, but the underlining kinship is unmistakable.

Both Trump and Farage are populist mavericks trying to outflank the two main parties. There is a crucial difference though: Trump has succeeded in getting to the top, and Farage so far hasn’t. Nor will he, unless he learns one crucial manoeuvre from Trump.

Unlike Farage, Trump didn’t try to blow up the two-party system by standing as an independent candidate. Instead he infiltrated the Republican Party and gradually turned it into his own bailiwick. Say what you will about the Donald, but he is a smart political operator.

Farage should be as smart to realise that third parties may at times make a splash in British politics, but ultimately they never win. His route to 10 Downing Street should start at 18 Smith Square, the Conservative Campaign Headquarters.

As the most charismatic and populist leader on the Right, Farage could easily do a Trump on the Tory Party which is ripe for the plucking. The Tories have an abysmal recent record, they are bereft of ideas and public support, and they certainly have no individuals with Farage’s astuteness, charisma and proven, if limited, record.

Several commentators have suggested the idea of a Tory-Reform merger, and the idea is sound: provided that the brand name comes from the Tories but the product from Farage. The popular idea of the Tories adopting Farage’s policies but without Farage will never work.

If they try to do that, “original thinkers” like Badenoch or Jenrick will inaugurate another generation of Labour government, making the demise of Britain irreversible. But, as leader of the (‘new’, ‘real’, ‘genuine’, ‘modern’ – take your pick) Conservative Party, Farage could push some of the Reform ideas through. As leader of Reform, he’ll for ever nibble at the outer edges of the political pie.

The bigger the Reform Party gets, the more amateur politicians are drawn into its ranks, the greater the subterranean pressures will be, the sooner the party will be blown apart by tectonic shifts. The only hope Britain has comes from the Tory Party – but purged of its non-Tory ideas and non-Tory personnel.

P.S. But Farage should take care not to get too close to Trump. He should remember what happened in Canada and Australia, where Left-wing candidates came from behind to defeat their Trumpist opponents.

If there existed a support group called Tattoophobes Anonymous, I’d have to join it. “I’m Alex, and I am a tattoophobe. While I respect tattooed people as human beings, I’m constitutionally incapable of looking at them.”

That creates a problem when I have to talk to tattooed sale assistants, which almost all of them are. They think I suffer from strabismus and look at me with compassion. Later they must tell their co-workers, “There was that old cross-eyed geezer again. Poor sod. He can’t even look you straight in the eye.”

The lower down the social scale you go, the greater the Tattoo Quotient (TQ) becomes. For example, if you arrange different sports in descending social order, you’ll probably find no tattooed polo-playing toffs. Middle-class tennis will probably have a TQ of about 10 per cent, up to 20 among the pros. And almost all professional football players are tattooed, footie being a working class sport.

My little phobia shouldn’t be misconstrued as contempt for the lower social orders. It’s nothing of the sort. Here’s an ironclad rule to which there are no known exceptions: people who despise the working classes are themselves despicable.

By and large, they come from the Islington-dwelling, Guardian-reading, Prosecco-quaffing, LibDem-voting classes who claim to speak French, but fail to pronounce the ‘s’ sound in coup de grâce and fleur-de-lis.

In plainer words, they are pretentious, snobbish twats, not to mention atheists whose milk of human kindness has gone rancid. No believer can possibly despise the lower classes, and neither can a genuinely educated person.

After all, education isn’t just accumulating information but what happens as a result, “what remains after you forget all you knew”, as Einstein put it. And what should remain is wisdom, kindness, style – and love. After all, the Christian spirit permeates Western culture so comprehensively that even educated non-Christians absorb that ethos.

This means that anyone professing contempt for the lower classes is never really educated. Even if he knows how to pronounce coup de grâce and fleur-de-lis properly, he is an ignoramus.

Having said that, while despising proles is indefensible, despising their tastes isn’t only permissible but indeed essential. Even that would be wrong if prole tastes weren’t imposed on the whole society. But they are, so it isn’t.

About 200 years ago some Frenchman coined the phrase nostalgie de la boue, literally ‘nostalgia for mud,’ meaning the attraction of low-life culture and experience. When that condition results from individual longing, it’s bad enough. But when it’s imposed on an indoctrinated society for ideological and commercial reasons, it’s calamitous.

The ideology involved is an echo of Marxism, with its hatred of anyone who doesn’t belong to the proletariat. Alas, even when people reject Marxist economics and Marxist savagery, they still can be sweet-talked into accepting that only the lower classes have virtue.

Many people who grew up in perfectly bourgeois families and went to decent schools feel latent shame and hence the need to fit in with those of a more fortunate, proletarian, nativity. Thus speaking estuarian English becomes ‘cool’, which has to be one of the most revolting words in the language.

The same goes for tattoos: the fashion started because intellectually challenged individuals wanted to attract attention, something they felt they could only do by emulating New Guinean natives. Now that so many people sport tattoos, they are no longer attention-grabbing. They are much worse: cool.

As for ‘music’, which unqualified term even conservative broadsheets apply to prole cacophony, with toff affectation demanding the modifier ‘classical’, the story is more involved. Unlike pop, real music demands a lifelong effort from the listener. One derives gratification, but it isn’t instant.

With a few minor exceptions, even people born with musical aptitude aren’t born with musical taste, meaning the ability not just to like music but to appreciate it. This has to be cultivated over many years, and it takes motivation to embark on such an arduous journey.

When I was little, most parents in our circle, even those who, like mine, had themselves never attended a concert in their lives, knew that music was important – because culture was. Not being able to appreciate (as distinct from merely to like) a Bach fugue or Beethoven sonata was seen as cultural illiteracy, not something they wanted for their offspring.

By and large, that motivation no longer exists, quite the opposite. As Allan Bloom wrote perceptively in The Closing of the American Mind, peer pressure and the whole cultural atmosphere push young people towards prole gyrations. In fact, he wrote, most of his students identified themselves by the pop group they not so much liked as idolised.

The soil thus primed, commercialism moves in. Since most people these days define music as electronic din, record companies drop recordings of real music.

And even conservative broadsheets sense they’ll sell more copies by covering the cultural heights scaled by groups with names like The Urinals, Devil’s Spawn or Evil Incarnate. (These names are imaginary. But, if by some chance the first one isn’t, and you happen to find yourself at their concert, make sure not to sit in the first two rows.)

Tattoos fall in the same category: they are badges of ideologised and commercialised proledom, savagery in traditional Western terms. Just as Prof. Bloom’s students identified themselves by their pop groups, so do today’s lot cover themselves head to toe with ink to make a cultural statement.

The statement is: we are proles and proud of it – even if we pull down a six-figure salary and have to cover our tattoos with suit and tie when going to work. Proledom isn’t about money or lack thereof. It’s about belonging to the ruling party, that of pagan, deracinated, dumbed-down modernity.

These melancholy thoughts have been inspired by most of our papers highlighting the news of the day: David Beckham’s 50^th birthday.

Everyone expected this ex-ball-kicker to be knighted on this momentous anniversary, but so far that accolade has escaped him. Not for long, I’m sure – another few years of Labour government, and Beckham will get at least a life peerage, if perhaps not the crown.

Now David is a nice enough man – or would be if he hadn’t covered every square inch of his body with disgusting tattoos. When he used to put in those right-footed crosses for Man Utd and England, I didn’t mind watching him in long TV shots. Now he tends to appear in close-ups, charming his British and American audiences with his tongue-tied platitudes.

They don’t mind the platitudes and they don’t mind the body ‘art’. This means I mind them.