Dear Readers,
Welcome to Off The Fence – a newsletter, if you hadn’t already noticed, released on either Monday or Tuesday, depending on how the weekend has played out. This one’s going out bright and early by our standards, as we’re decamping over to Canonbury to sign off on Issue 12 with the art director, Mathias Clottu. By 4pm today, the very best issue of The Fence to date will be signed, sealed, and delivered to our printmasters on the shores of the Baltic; if you want a copy in your hands before WH Smith get a sniff, subscribe today (and get an Issue 11 while you’re at it).
On today’s content trolley, we have another portion of Brian Sewell, cocaine apocrypha from the 2019 intake, and a bit of Mike Skinner to welcome in the season. But per il primo piatto, a little featurette on the man who would be king, who loves nothing more than getting a bag in – so long as it’s full of notes and from Fortnum & Mason.
Bonnie Prince Charlie
As you may know, the heir to the throne accepted – in cash and in person – a million euros from a former Qatari prime minister. While the money may have been destined for his charities, it's pretty shady from Prince Charles, but it’s another episode in a pattern of behaviour: the CEO of Duchy Originals just cannot resist sidling up to billionaires.
For a number of summers, he took the 397ft yacht Alexander from the Greek shipping tycoon, John Latsis, all free of charge, of course. Armand Hammer – great-grandfather of the controversial actor, Armie, gave Charles so much money ($40 million) for his charities that he was almost made godfather to Prince William. Or there is Nemir Kirdar, who donated £200,000 so he could sit next to the future king at Buckingham Palace.
It would be forgivable if this royal corruption for access was a bit more stylish (think George IV and Beau Brummell). Prince Charles has lived a life devoid of accountability for 73 years: there’s precious reason to think he’ll change now.
The Last of the Medici
Last week, we shared a video of Brian Sewell, who famously said that ‘Banksy should have been put down at birth’, and it proved so popular that we felt we must give you, the reader, more of the same.
The following clip is from the same source, a 2005 TV programme, in which Sewell travels through Italy, retracing the steps of the young 18th century gentlemen whose education was incomplete without gazing upon ancient marbles and sighing. But there were more frisky entertainments available, too, especially if you found yourself at the court of Gian Gastone, the 7th Grand Duke of Tuscany, and his posse of ruspanti, a 350-strong attendance of ‘worthless boys’.
Something about these ‘worthless boys’ launches Brian Sewell into heights of poetry unseen in broadcast television since the heyday of Kenneth Clarke, Jacob Bronowski et al. It’s one of the greatest clips we know of, and it’s right here for your viewing pleasure.
The Party Line
Popbitch reports that there are a number of cocaine users among the parliamentary 2019 cohort. We can’t say we’re particularly surprised, and while we’re kind of keen to find out who these errant MPs are, there’s another gak-enthused story that has always intrigued us.
Around about a decade ago, there was a Clapham-based dealer of Australian nationality, who operated under the moniker the ‘Chizard of Oz.’
It’s such a level of wit that you don’t usually associate with drug dealers (or Australians) and so, we want to know: did you know the Chizard? Did you ever meet him? Hit us up at editorial@the-fence.com (we’re not the police).
Strawberry Letter 23
A reminder: we have reopened pitches, now, and forevermore. We’ve had a fair old haul so far, and even commissioned a couple, so if you would like to write for The Fence, do have a read of this pitch guide and wing through an email to this address right here.
As ever, we’re very keen for ‘insider’ pieces from industries that are misunderstood or misrepresented in the media. If this sounds like something you could write about, or you know someone who could, then do get in touch.
Vladimir Lenin’s Schooldays
The love for Mick Lynch flowed in the press last week and we at The Fence weren’t immune. To see a savvy media performer emerge from the Left is unheard of in recent years and Lynch is all the more impressive as a result. We aren’t the only ones though: his fans are a broad coalition- from Peter Hitchens to the people at Novara Media. Their most recent ‘TyskySour’ podcast made a big deal of Lynch – specifically the magnifying of a working class voice. Generously deigning to do that magnification was one Barnaby Raine. Fans of archive newspapers may recognise the name from the student protests of a decade ago where Raine was euphemistically named as going to ‘a school in central London’.
Clearly the establishment in question gave Raine a taste for the limelight— this rave review of his performance in a school play is a real delight: but ‘Animal Farm’ is a surprising choice of production for one who would later become quite such an enthusiastic Leninist. Then again, the path from cloister to commune is hardly an untrod one. While Raine’s school days are clearly far behind him, it’s worth noting that a privilege of the scholars of that ‘school in central London’ is to be the first commoners [sic] to acclaim a new monarch – it’s nice to know that some links to the traditions of his past survive. Vivat Rex Mick!
In Case You Missed It
If you feel powerless in the face of America’s Roe v Wade decision, Donations4Abortion gives a thorough rundown of funding options for affected people in every US state, from anywhere on Earth. If you’re a UK reader, do also remember that thousands of Northern Irish women are still having to travel to England and Wales to exercise their legal right to abortion services, and you can donate to help them do this through Alliance4Choice.
RTE’s Rory Houston tells the unlikely story of Bruno’s Magpies, the Gibraltarian pub team who’ll be playing Crusaders in the European Conference League next month.
For ProPublica, Nicole Carr delivers a terrifying dispatch from Georgia, where a group of white parents chased a black educator out of her profession and then did it again.
‘I've been fucking done for punching someone at Glastonbury before – and I'd do it again.’ VICE’s Emma Garland drops some excellent eaves for Overheard At Glastonbury.
If you’re new to up and coming artist, Paul McCartney, please read this extremely charming listicle entitled: ‘64 reasons to love Paul McCartney.’
And Finally
Glastonbury: many things to many people; a land of contrasts; simultaneously, equally, unequivocally the best and worst place in the world depending on who, when and what you ask. It isn’t embodied in the form of earnest old Michael Eavis, and his cows. It isn’t even embodied in the form of The Fence’s Free Lunch Editor, Ed Cumming, recusing himself with great relief from a toilet stall in the weekend’s Telegraph.
No, Glastonbury is made flesh by none other than Mike Skinner, the all-swinging jaw, who in recent years has swapped impromptu sets from South London garages for turns on the deck at his daughter’s school in Highgate – one way to introduce yourself to the Joneses at no. 42. For all his modern day domestication, Skinner is still au fait with the golden rule of MCing: that being the ability to keep a crowd even when you’re completely fucked, as evidenced by his riotous performance of Fit But You Know It at Glasto in 2019, complete with its very own botched stage dive. Because if Glastonbury isn’t a chance for otherwise secure middle-agers to wind back the clock to the most shameful of their younger years, then what is it all about?
*
And there we have it, another newsletter endeth. We do hope you’ve been enjoying them, and would love to hear what you’ve been finding most interesting from these weekly round-ups – shoot us an email and make our afternoon. Catch you next week, Monday or Tuesday.
All the best,
TF
We are also delighted to offer a subscription service. For £25 you will receive all four copies of the magazine per year, delivered to your door.
