Dear Readers,
Welcome to our fortnightly newsletter-slash-propaganda arm. Last week, the Guardian pretty much republished – albeit with less funny quotes – last month’s outing on the Prime Minister’s long-threatened book on Shakespeare . This time out, we have some Quality Content about Queen’s Counsels, a featurette on the online war between football fans and die-hard Remainers, but first a few words on the Spy Who Wants to be on TV.
Not-So Secretive Service
For a career spy, Christopher Steele is very keen to be in the public eye. The author of the infamous ‘pissgate’ dossier remains well-regarded by Whitehall insiders, who still value his expertise. Through his company, Magic Strand, the MI6 officer provides his expertise to film and TV companies keen for their productions to have a dash of verisimilitude. The company was set up a few years back, and has less than a hundred grand in the bank, which is not much booty for all those dead-drops along the Volga. In a bid to maximise his post-pissgate profitability, we hear that Steele now uses a very persuasive agent at Grey Seal Media to make sure his services are properly rewarded.
Bravo, Maestro
Demna Gvasalia, the creative director of Balenciaga, held the fashion house’s first couture show for over 50 years, received by an audience that included Anna Wintour, Lewis Hamilton and Kanye West – who viewed proceedings while sporting a balaclava. With their characteristic restraint, the fashion press has lauded it as the ‘show of the century.’ Truly, it seems that Gvasalia’s powers seem to be beyond this mortal realm. And we are not talking metaphorically. If you look closely here, you can see that the designer has persuaded Jacques Chirac, the former French president, to rise from the grave and totter down the catwalk in heels.
Sorry, Aunty
In last week’s newsletter, we said that ‘we all pay £159 each to the BBC to get the news for free’. Of course, the license fee applies per household, not per individual, and we really should have made that clearer. Thank you to a reader for alerting us to this particular error.
Barrister Banter
Caitlin Flanagan has written a pretty funny article for the Atlantic on how she is addicted to Twitter. Everyone knows that journalists camp out their careers on the website, but what about the baffling amount of Queen’s Counsels (QCs) on there?
User @OWalgreens has kindly passed us a fascinating document about the relationship between this country’s finest legal minds and the home of brainworms itself. Well, naming the very online examples of the legal profession wouldn’t ‘fox’ most minds but it turns out there are some more (or should that be Simor?) QCs lurking in the Matrix. @OWalgreens informs us that there are 279 out of a total 1787 QCs who are chasing dopamine hits courtesy of the little blue bird, a total of 15.6% of the upper echelon of the legal profession. Of those, 112 see fit to advertise their status as QCs in their Twitter handles. Of course, we observe this simply as an interesting statistic, the content of what they tweet is in no doubt at all. As with all users on that website it is surely the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Due Dilligence
There is much to openly admire in upstart American media: the intellectual scope, refined art direction, big freelancer budgets and so on. In that spirit, we would like to follow the editor of the Drift and strongly encourage those of you who are publicly proclaiming the excellence of our work to subscribe to the magazine. This newsletter is now resting on a 56 percent open rate, which is pretty heady stuff as these things go. Thanks to our friends at MailChimp, we can observe that there are quite a few of you who read it start to finish every fortnight, including our gentle reminders that our only significant source of revenue is from print subscriptions. Now, we want to keep things light and fun and free to read while also expanding The Fence. So, if you value what we’re doing, please subscribe in the link above if you are yet to do so.
The Promise of Albion
In 1935, George Dangerfield wrote The Strange Death of Liberal England about the once-mighty Liberal Party’s self-destruction and the accompanying demise of a particular liberal, middle-class, non-conformist moral compass that once held sway over swathes of the English consciousness. Strangely, it has taken a game of football, specifically England’s victory over Germany last week, to lift the coffin lid on an old school version of public morals.
After the camera panned (with the same taste and delicacy that gave us those close-ups of a critically ill Christian Eriksen at the start of the tournament) to a sobbing German girl who was sad that her team had lost, England fans exhibited that most German of feelings: schadenfreude. Much of it displayed foul language, an obsession with World War Two and a distinct lack, shall we say, of graciousness in victory. Yet even in a gay pub in Hampstead – where one of our staffers watched the game – the shot was considered too delicious not to jeer at.
However, the reaction spurred a counter movement when Newport based activist Joel Hughes set up a JustGiving page in his own words ‘to Show this little German supporter that not everyone in the UK is horrible’. The comments left on the JustGiving page provide a fascinating insight into a particular part of middle-class morality in 21st Century Britain.
Specifically, the comments show a concomitance between those donating to Hughes’s fundraiser and a particular political position. As one person who gave £10 put it:
‘Always together with our European friends to fight racism and bigotry.’
While another said:
‘I’m sorry about the narrow-minded, xenophobic, insecure racist pricks. I’d like to say they don’t represent England fans, but unfortunately rampant nationalism following Brexit has broken the country.’
The moralistic framework of those who rejoice in the identity of ‘#FBPE’ is the old liberal non-conformist world view redressed in blue and yellow: England is an embarrassment, sport is an unhealthy national obsession, alcohol is the working man’s vice etc.
While judgement and prejudice are manifest wickednesses, it is clear to the #FBPE mind that there are ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ cultures. At the heart of the Quaker and Methodist vision was one where there were some pastimes that were wicked and some that were virtuous. with football- and specifically the support of the national team, being a bête-noire. The disparity in COVID allowances around bad culture (football) and good culture (museums) has only heightened this sense. As such there is now a pride in looking down upon the national obsession:
‘Born and bred in this country. I’ve never cheered on the nation at football.’
Similar to conservative middle-class morality, there is also a deep sense that they are not, they cannot be a minority. The inhabitants of #FBPE-world earnestly believe that they represent a silent majority on the side of decency:
‘Just appalled by these vile mindless idiots. They don’t represent me, my family or any decent people.’
‘There are good moral people in England, and these racists pigs do not represent all of us.’
All this is linked to being sensible and humane of course, and has often found itself married to a particular type of public virtue around COVID regulations:
‘Sorry about the vocal minority who don't have any humanity left. Wishing you and your family all the best. With socially-distanced hugs from England!’
Inclusivity is another favourite watchword in the FBPE moral arsenal, which is awkward, given that there is a sizeable chunk of their fellow citizens whom they consider as beyond the pale. But then they really are just a minority surely, after all, these are people who would unironically observe that ‘all my friends voted Remain’:
‘Please understand that it’s not a reflection of all of us from England. I consider myself ‘European’ rather than ‘English.’’’
‘How mean-spirited and nationalistic England has become. Makes me feel ashamed.’
Indeed, the moral framework goes further than simply claiming a purer identity than the grubby national one. There is also a fetishization of anyone or anything that might be considered an opponent of England:
I hope that one day this country and can show the same dignity in defeats as Germany that night. Please don’t be too downhearted, Germany will win again!
Often, this is related to public displays of knowledge of foreign cultures or people, which as everyone knows is inherently linked to moral enlightenment:
‘I love Germany 🇩🇪 having played football & cycles with many Germans in my life.. British have a lot to learn.’
‘Beautiful country and people... We can learn so much from them!!’
Progress, too, is key. The FBPE-er considers themselves the guardian of a much-dwindled flame, that of progress and that it is specifically their responsibility to uphold values of decency and kindness in the new public online sphere:
‘Apologies on behalf of the backwards morons.’
‘I hope Germany and all Europe will sympathise with those of us who have to live with these xenophobic blinkered bigots.’
Some people, of course, donated for less serious reasons:
'Couple of quid to buy some tissues next time. Absolute nonsense of a fundraiser. I’ve been crying watching England for the last 55 years. Where’s my 30k?'
In our analysis, the real death of liberal England came about through hypocrisy, and so that golden thread continues today. Chief crowdfunder Joel Hughes has already locked his account on Twitter, after some allegations about his private life came to light via a porn site. It has now transpired that nobody has managed to contact the little German girl after all. This means that about £35,000 is currently just resting in Hughes’ account. Here’s to good old fashioned liberal morality.
In Case You Missed It
Friend of newsletters passim, Huw Lemmey, gets under the hood of ‘meaningless sex’, in this excellent rumination on kink for his Utopian Drivel blog.
The Atlantic’s Jonathan Zittrain says The Internet Is Rotting, and ‘the glue that holds humanity’s knowledge together is coming undone’.
In a strange turn of events, the only literary short story to ever go viral has somehow managed to go viral twice, as the discourse put on its best Malkovich voice this week and chanted, in unison: Cat Person, Cat Person Cat Person.
For the Guardian, Alex von Tunzelman topples the myth of ‘Saddam’s statue’, in a compelling long read.
Elsewhere on the Graun, Will Freeman digs through the crates to chart the unlikely 80s vogue for printing British video games on vinyl.
Yes, that New York Times profile of Lil Nas X by Jazmine Hughes is as good as everyone says.
Anoosh Chakelian gets the view from the ground in Brexitland, as UK exporters enjoy all the glorious new freedoms of not being able to trade with their actual customers.
The Teletubbies have been declared safe from COVID.
And Finally
To mark England’s return to the final stages of international football, we’ve been watching the footage of the last time it happened: the 1966 World Cup Final. Everybody knows the grainy stills of Geoff Hurst, Bobbys Charlton and Moore and, of course, that line of commentary. The footage, as condensed, tells a more interesting story, and in the interests of time travel, we commend the video to you. In some ways it’s reassuringly familiar: the game itself sparkles, the same roars greet each goal, the same Royals sit in a box looking vaguely bemused by the whole affair.
But in other ways it seems a world, a game, that is almost inconceivably distant: the shorts are baggier, the officials are noticeably older and everyone is white. There are no Gazprom or Barclays advertisements flashing along the sides of the stands, the towers still peep over the roof of Wembley, there are no Three Lions on shirts in the crowd, many of whom are buttoned-up in suits (indeed, the only man not in a suit – in contrast to Gareth Southgate – is the manager, Sir Alf Ramsey, glorious in the sort of tracksuit a hypebeast would spend a fortune on today), there are no lions in the lyrics of the half-time music either, as the band of the Royal Marines plays what sounds like a Sousa march by way of entertainment. Another noticeable difference is there is scarcely a flag of St George in sight, with the Union Flag instead being the banner of choice in the stands: after all, the SNP’s landmark win at the Hamilton by-election was over a year away. The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.
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At the time of writing, Issue 8 is being printed at KOPA in Lithuania. With Brexit checks at the border permitting, the magazine will be with subscribers next Friday, when we will be writing to you again. So, if you are like us, and you have an Instagram or Twitter account, please do share photos of the magazine online. It will mean a lot to our small, talented and extremely dedicated group of writers and illustrators whose work often goes unheralded. In the meantime, if you would like to chat to a member of the team, then you can do so by replying to this email, and it will be a pleasure to chat to you over matters trivial or profound. But don’t expect any replies on Sunday. Or Monday for that matter.
All the best,
TF
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