Dear Readers,
Good evening, we hope you have had an agreeable start to the last weekend of summer. To mark the changing of the seasons, our sale continues over on the webstore, but will end on Sunday night. Move now to secure some prime cuts from the archive which are currently available at insensibly low prices.
As ever, there are a number of featurettes ranging across the millennial moodboard, and we have some more unreported intel on Pen Farthing, the f-bombing Dr Doolittle, a small investigation into the tragic story of MizOrMac, but first, a little something on a subject close to our hearts: when journalists go wild.
Getting Away With It
According to an insider in the TV world, a well-known youngish British investigative journalist has been burning their sources, publishing details which were not divulged on the record. The information is pretty top-level stuff, and one particular source, who is said to be furious, is someone who is a UK national who has become known globally in the last five years. It’s a pretty funny story, and we hope to share more details with you soon.
Pervert Cat Ltd
Two days ago, the BBC reported that Companies House has rejected more than 800 company names that could be deemed offensive, and after pondering why How did the Building That Fought Hitler Limited got nixed, we remembered that back in Issue 7, we published a deep-dive into some of the stranger appellations that managed to get approved by the authorities.
During the investigation, we came across a certain Mr Jebaraj SCREW YOU (yes, that’s his name, and yes, that’s how he styles it), who runs a host of companies, which include Bribery Limited, Bad London Limited, Corruption Limited, I am Bad Limited and Cocaine Limited, all registered to the unlikely address of 18 Sandtoft Close in Lincoln, which appears to be a detached house in a cathedral city, which is a curious centre of operations for such a puckish businessman. Anyway, we digress. Do read the article, it has proved very popular online, and it was a real hit with subscribers.
The Dog Days Are Over
We have more news on the case of Paul ‘Pen’ Farthing, the ex-soldier who succeeded in evacuating his rescue animals from Kabul, but left his staff behind, as he issued invectives to a government desperately trying to help British citizens escape the gaping maw of the Taliban.
According to the man himself, Farthing’s ‘Operation Ark’ did not inconvenience the Ministry of Defence. It was a chartered flight, paid for by private donations. He also claims that he did not rely on the support of British soldiers to gain admittance to Hamid Karzai International Airport.
But according to our source, Farthing’s flight did use up vital energy in the race to flee the Afghan capital. Given the extraordinary publicity that his campaign had galvanised, the government knew that if his chartered flight were not to land, then it would be a PR disaster of seismic proportions. So, a C-17 Globemaster was placed on standby, which even though it went unused, had a considerable effect on the extraction efforts, knocking flights off an already frenzied schedule.
Farthing’s supporters, who are a vocal bunch, have been firm in their belief that the soldier’s actions are beyond question, and that he is, in truth, a ‘national hero’, who has been the victim of a smear campaign from inept mandarins. Whichever way you look at it, it seems that ‘Operation Ark’ will be placed under further scrutiny before the baubles, titles and book deals can be dispensed.
It’s Your Thing
Where do we get our readers from? The internet, in short. But where do they live? Well, that’s another question, one which we put to our readers this week in a quiz which we enjoyed monitoring with no little zeal.
The voters in the poll reckoned that the largest concentration of London-based TF subscribers could be found in Camberwell, then Hackney. Which is the wrong answer.
But it’s almost the right answer, and all the more drily amusing for it, given that the magazine was run throughout the pandemic from a bedroom just off Grove Lane. Yes, we do have the largest portion of TF fans in SE5, that much is true, but second place goes east rather than west – over to the spirited denizens of Notting Hill.
Still, we pay tribute to our subscribers from Richard Curtis-ville, and salute them for their superb taste, yet we are honour-bound to unearth this short video from the late Sebastian Horsley on that peculiar borough, which the greatest chronicler of the capital, Peter Ackroyd, regards as being without equal in the city.
But whatever neighbourhood you live in, the magazine relies on subscriptions to keep expanding its scope outside the capital. So, if you’ve been enjoying our work so far, you can subscribe here, or if not, please do keep it in your mind as a treat, perhaps, to be relished at some point in the future. It remains our only significant form of revenue.
A Judgement from the Gods
Dolce & Gabbana are a famous Italian fashion house who also known for their legal issues: tax evasion, accusations of racism, sexism, and for their opposition to gay adoption and surrogacy. Can we be honest? Their clothes are gaudy as hell, too, recycling the same tired looks season after season, so we have no compunction about sharing this hilarious video of their runway show being interrupted by a biblical hailstorm.
Knives Out
Claire Lowdon is a unique writer: eminent among critics for her lean, elegant prose in the Sunday Times, with a widely-praised debut novel still issuing in her wake. We were fortunate enough to feature an original work of short fiction from her in Issue 8, which we have now published online for you all to read for free. In further evidence of her clarity and vision, Claire is not on Twitter. A few issues back, we interviewed various eminent novelists about their social media addictions. It was a pleasure to work with someone who – unlike your correspondents – is able to keep the needle away from the thirsty vein.
Politics is Show Business for Ugly People
A few months back, we asked some journalists to tell us about their worst ever pitch, and we received a bursting sack of emails back from hacks, which we collated into an article which you can read here. It’s hard to pick one, but one of our favourites came from Sophie Elmhirst, who wrote that ‘for quite a while I was convinced that a post-politics profile of Ed Balls would make for essential reading, but absolutely no one seemed to agree.’
Well, Sophie, it seems that there is a new editorial sheriff in town at the Observer magazine: they dusted off their six-shooter and sent Ed Cumming to interview the former Member for Morley and Outwood on life after Westminster, and you can read the article that no one agreed would make for essential reading in the link above.
We love Ed’s work, and we’ve been lucky enough to have collaborated with him, and we have similarly warm feelings towards Sophie: but this is the second ‘worst pitch’ from our shit-deck we’ve seen commissioned. Those blazing minds over the Atlantic tasked Imogen West-Knights to find out what happened to those shirtless hunks who stood, magnificently, at the entry of every suburban Abercrombie and Fitch. We’re pouring out a cold one for those forgotten bronzed brothers, wherever they may be.
Check the Scoreboard
A famous middle-aged writer is months deep into a long-read on the state of the UK drill scene, and we look forward to reading it, as the writer, who we will not name, is one of the most respected reporters operating. There are so many possible directions in which this article could go, as the scene has created so many stories, many of which have not reached the national press.
Drill is an authentically exciting newish musical genre, but one that has created the first authentic moral panic in this country since the halcyon days of acid house, with the police censoring chart-topping acts like Digga D through criminal behaviour orders, as they believe his songs are fuelling the epidemic of knife crime in the capital.
Issues of freedom of speech are one thing; gang warfare is another. Latwaan Griffths, known as Latz, was found mortally wounded outside King’s College Hospital in July 2018. His killers have never been identified. Griffiths was a member of Harlem Spartans, a Kennington-based group. His bandmate, Crosslon Davis, known as Bis, was hacked to death the following year, though his murderers were sentenced earlier this April.
The Spartans’ most talented artist is MizOrMac, who raps with fluent, internal rhymes, and who was imprisoned for three years up until 2020, during which time his two best friends were murdered. After he was released, he brought a track, Return of the Mac, which is accompanied by a truly, truly unique music video: it begins with friends showering him with designer clothes as he leaves jail, before he visits the families of his murdered friends. It is a revenge tragedy played out in four minutes and 11 seconds, as Mizormac is back in jail. There are unsubstantiated rumours that it was for a double attempted murder on a rival gang, who it is alleged are responsible for the unsolved killing of Latwaan Griffiths.
In a grimly ironic epilogue, MizOrMac’s 2016 link-up with his dead friend, Bis, has now been mixed with Queen’s Another One Bites The Dust by a DJ called Adam Cutting to provide a silky dancefloor hit, with one fan commenting, ‘I guarantee you’re gonna hear this every night in every club starting today for a whole year 😂 it’s just that good.’
Beautiful Discourse, Where Are You
Sally Rooney’s novels are an event, so much so that her American publishers at Farrer, Strauss, Giroux have released some limited edition bucket hats to coincide with the launch of her third offering. So far, the reviews have bordered on ecstatic, with a particularly interesting reading coming from her compatriot Fintan O’Toole, who is, we can all agree, one of the finest critics in the game.
In Christmas 2019, we published a collaborative piece on Rooney-mania. Almost two years later, it is still the most-read article on our website (if you’re keen for a review of the review, allow us to direct you to this Reddit board). The article was meant as a sly commentary on writerly jealousy, and the vanity of literary criticism, and we still think it makes for sprightly, informed critique.
But you can only admire Sally Rooney for getting three novels deep at the tender age of 30, and for her output being praised, saluted and adapted by the highest creative powers currently operating. As she says in this witty interview with Emma Brockes, ‘If as a reader you want to exercise control over the kinds of things that are depicted in novels, try writing one. That’s what I did and it worked for me.’.
In Case You Missed It
Andrew O’Hagan reviews the latest children’s books from the Duchess of Sussex and the Duchess of York.
Why is Jeffrey Toobin still using his New Yorker avatar? A very serious investigation from Olivia Craighead.
Calling all edgelords! The Taliban have learned how to meme, and they’re pretty damn good at it.
Jon Lee Anderson wonders whether this is the end for the American Empire.
The craziest headline of the year goes to someone you might remember from a few years back.
And Finally
You may well have seen it, but there is a majestic video of a long-haired violinist persuading 50,000 football fans to chant along to Shostakovich’s Second Waltz. The violinist is André Rieu, who is possibly the most famous musician on the planet who no one under the age of 40 has ever heard of.
Rieu, who is Dutch, bought a minute of air-time during Ajax’s 1995 Champions League Final against the German team, Bayern Munich, with the home side 3-0 up at the break. The day after the game, his label sold 100,000 CDs, which you imagine would have pleased the marketing team at Universal. And it seems he’s still got a commercial sensibility.
Rieu’s YouTube account, which has 3.3 million subscribers, is loaded with must-see videos. Flush with cash, he holds kitsch concerts all around the world with his Johan Strauss Orchestra. Here he is in Cortona, Sicily, playing The Godfather theme tune in the spiritual home of the Mafia. A promo video for his interpretation of the work of the Hungarian composer, Emmerich Kálmán, requires Rieu, who is now in his seventies, to address the camera surrounded by 11 young women in ball gowns. But perhaps our favourite of his offerings is this clip, where the redoubtable maestro has hired a 150-strong men’s chorus to sing him Happy Birthday: which is just the sort of dictatorial flourish that we like to see in Dutch violinists.
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All the best,
TF
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