Dear Readers
Good morning, and welcome to the newsletter arm of our quarterly print magazine. On Friday, a blogger called Dominic Cummings skirmished with a journalist called Henry Dyer by calling him a ‘tool’ for not linking a tweet to his Substack. Which is kind of funny, as last summer, Cummings was touring the country’s most sensitive military sites, while Henry Dyer was writing a very silly deep-dive into grouse moor ownership for this very publication, in which the relationships between the Prime Minister’s erstwhile chief adviser, his landowning father-in-law and certain exemptions of the ‘rule of six’ (remember that?) were called into question.
Allow us to assure you that Issue 9 will be arriving through subscribers’ letterboxes tomorrow morning, and while we won’t berate you if you opt to keep a low profile, we would be really thrilled if you would share photos of the cover and your favourite bits within. Last time out, Issue 8 sold out in three weeks, so if you want to lay your hands on a copy, move with decorous haste to our webstore, where a declining number of single copies are available for retail sale.
And so to business: we’ve got some featurettes about Vera Lynn, Christopher Hitchens and the creepiest property listing on the internet. But first, let’s talk about the people next door.
Dans Le Noir
From our Soho watchtower, we look out over Be At One Piccadilly Circus, a garish cocktail bar which used to identify as the Red Lion, the very pub where Frederick Engels and Karl Marx wrote the order of play for the pamphlet that became the Communist Manifesto. And just below, we have the Windmill Theatre, London’s original strip club, a joint that was memorialised in a largely forgettable Judi Dench vehicle called Mrs Henderson Presents.
Nowadays, the Windmill has reinvented itself as an outré supper club, thanks to the operations of a certain Ryan Bishti. After a long investigation by the Met Police, the 41-year-old impresario has been charged with a conspiracy to commit bribery that encompasses seven business owners. While we want to be full of neighbourly goodwill, the ear-splitting volume of the club’s afternoon rehearsals have been upsetting the zen of our Monday editorial meetings. So, while we're not encouraging Inspector Bucket to throw the book at Mr Bishti – yet – we will be following this case closely. And reporting back when further detail becomes available.
Telford Frog Clock
Our editor-at-large, Fergus Butler-Gallie, took the controls of the Twitter account last week. While he was at the wheel, he took the time to ask which place in the United Kingdom would be the likeliest portal to Hades. Readers wrote back in buckets and spades, and we collated the best response into a handily digestible four slides that you can read here.
Immortal Technique
Last Friday, as we dispersed Issue 9 to the stockists in London, we came across a rogue batch of Issue 8s which – for some reason – had gone unsold. This morning, we can offer a couple of those copies for retail sale through the webstore. If you missed out last time, and you’re a TF completist, then ignore the banner image and click ‘buy’ right to fulfil your archive fantasies. Also, we should mention that there are vanishingly few Issue 6s left, so, if you’re missing out on that particular print outing, then do take this opportunity to bless your palms with a copy of our first adventure into mixing long-reads with everyday lols.
Effete Onanist
As some of you know all too well, we are dedicated fans of Peter Hitchens, the most unpredictable thinker on Fleet Street. Some people believe that his late brother is an intellect of higher merit – a notion we ourselves scoff at – yet this curious little piece from the 90s deserves your attention.
In 1994, Richard Gott, a features editor for the Guardian, was accused of historic acts of espionage for the Soviet Union, allegations that Gott himself denied. In the article, Christopher Hitchens takes aim at the culture of the well-heeled British left in an extraordinarily vituperative article that’s well worth your time.
Full Disclosure
Recently, every time we put a member of the royal family in the subject line of this newsletter, the open rate increases by a solid five per cent. And every time we put a sex offender, like, say, a disgraced necrophiliac Radio 1 DJ up in the header, it also boosts the click ratio to an unavoidably noticeable degree. While there’s a need to maintain a certain level of integrity, we can’t help but wonder what would happen to our burgeoning click-farm if there was a member of the royal family who was also a sex offender. What would happen for our open rates then? Just imagine.
Marc Jacobs by Marc Jacobs
Even if you don’t care a hoot for haute couture, you should be interested in the story of Phoebe Philo, the British fashion designer who, garment by garment, revived the Parisian house of Céline in the noughties, and is still – to this day – regarded as the most dazzling talent in the game. After a few years of retirement, questions circulated as to why this extended period of gardening leave came when Philo was only in her mid-forties.Then, earlier this year, she returned with an eponymous new label and backing from LVMH.
One of Philo’s Celiné cohorts, a fellow Brit called Daniel Lee, has just left his job as the creative director of Bottega Veneta. While the rumour mill suggests that he might be matching up with his former boss, The Fence hears that he’s taken a plum role at a London-based fashion house.
Auntie Plays The Game
Photos have emerged of famed Lancastrian, Steve Coogan, filming on set in the blockbuster role of Jimmy Savile, infamous Yorkshireman. Truly, there is precious else to add, apart from these two little words: ‘no comment’.
Northern Powerhouse
And speaking of the less salubrious aspects of God’s Own County, allow us to tickle your eyeballs with the listing for this irrevocably unique property, a caravan park and holiday haven on sale for the price for £1.5 million, a dear sum, no doubt, the full cost of which the estate agents have tried to offload by uploading photos of some of the less engaging parts of the holding. The marketing efforts of Fine and Country, York, sing a miserable ballad of Englishness, of drizzling, awkward August Bank Holidays: has local resident, Alan Ayckbourn, found a new stage to set his next play?
In Case You Missed It
Adam Tooze explores how China avoided a Soviet-Style Collapse.
If you're feeling the pinch of winter, spare a thought for Kiun B, a Siberian YouTuber intent on explaining what it's like to live somewhere that regularly reaches -71°C.
Poppy McPherson and Shoon Naing document the youthful resistance in war-torn Myanmar in an eye-opening piece for Reuters.
‘I sniffed out good news like a bloodhound’: Pandora Sykes writes about how she broke her doomscrolling habit.
Just an honest lad from Framlingham: Sean O’Neill takes aim at the sneering ubiquity of hating Ed Sheeran.
Nilay Patel updates the Verge's On Background policy for tech reporting, citing some amusing and some less amusing examples of Silicon Valley overreach.
And Finally
As it is Remembrance Sunday this very morning, allow us to finish with Vera Lynn’s 1995 performance of We’ll Meet Again, an agreeably ramshackle performance to start with, only for the redoubtable Dame to whip the sixty-thousand-strong throng out of their seats at about the minute mark, assisted by the ageless, spectral figure of Cliff Richards, and then finish with a choir-backed ensemble that is moving, majestic and ever-so-slightly-funny all at the same time.
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If you’d like to talk to a member of the editorial team, or you’d like to check the status of your subscription, then do reply to this email and we will get back to you promptly. It really is genuinely a pleasure to chat to so many of you, and it is a vicarious thrill to see that our little project is providing people with some small crumbs of joy.
We’ll join you again on Friday, where we can share news of a very, very cool collaboration with a publication you all have heard of. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of the weekend.
All the best,
TF
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