Dear Readers,
Welcome back to Off The Fence, the newsletter that Marx failed to predict. It’s been a busy time for us here, but the exciting news is that the latest issue has found its way to Studio Mathias Clottu. Yes, unbelievably, a whole new issue of The Fence is already nearing. It’s set to be another barnstormer, with the biggest ETC section we’ve ever done and a beast of a central feature.
We’ve had some fun photos this week, which saw the mag drop in on one of its contributors, but perhaps our favourite was this snap of it retreating to its villainous hideout to scheme up some devilish ideas. The race is still in full flight, so do get those photos flooding in to editorial@the-fence.com. It’s the only way to win delicious fizz.
Excitingly, we are also deciding to extend last week’s offer: anyone who signs up for a year subscription will get a mag bundle that includes Issues 24, 25, 26 and 27 along with the new one. That’s eight mags for the price of four folks, but move quickly, as only the first ten subscribers across the line will get this unreal parcel through their letterboxes.
We do also hope you’re excited for this Thursday when another delectable edition of Capital Letter will be hitting you all. It is our fastest growing offering with all the insider and historical info about London you could possibly want – and an entire map of all said info to boot.
Recent offerings have contained all sorts of goodies, including a wonderful close profile of the legendary sound man at The Elephant’s Head in Camden and a detailed guide to travelling to North Africa and Southwest Asia without leaving the capital. The last edition had a deep dive into the situation at Ridley Road and Gabriel’s Wharf markets, a tribute to the legend that was Godfrey Old and the tips on Sunbury Antiques Market. Get stuck in.
But for now, let’s turn to the week’s events. We’ve been learning about the Marine Corps and are hot on the most pressing issue that Burnham has yet to address. But let us begin with a small, personal victory.
Ta-ter! Farewell!
Committed readers of Off The Fence will remember that a little over a year ago, our lovely corner of Soho was rudely interrupted by a pair of brothers insistent on selling as many baked potatoes as they could sling down the gullets of passersby.
We were appalled and intrigued, so we investigated, and found a world where there were ‘no secrets’, where things were not as they seemed and where the item on sale was ‘not just a potato’ but in fact ‘a spud’.
For a while, it seemed like there would be no end to our starchy hell, but when the bros planned and then pulled an immersive potato-centric theatre experience, it began to feel like the writing might be on the wall. Well, this morning, we turned the corner of Archer Street to a scene of bizarre serenity, our momentary confusion dispersing when we noticed that the alarming fire engine red arch under which that tatties had processed had been returned to the cool washed white you see below. Victory at last.
Justice For Joe
This week marks the nine year anniversary of Joe Deacy, who died on 13 Aug 2017 in County Mayo. He was found in a residential drive with a mortal head injury, and the case remains unsolved. His family continue to search for answers; from the police, from outside the house where he was found. It is a deeply moving story and one that we bring to your attention here on this anniversary.
That Sounds Alarming
Big Andy B made his first strong foray into annoying the British public this week with his multiple alarms that signalled the coming of the end times and asked us not to use any barbecues in case that sped the whole thing up. It was a slightly surreal moment for the UK to share in, but it did at least produce some lovely bits of live TV.
But it’s got us thinking whether the UK’s emergency alarms are up to scratch, not in the practical sense, but in the ‘vibe’ sense. Does ours have the snazz of say Iran’s pre-1991 alert, or the sheer force of Japan’s J alert or even this filthy Jazz chord offered by what we can only guess is Denmark’s finest truck driver. For our money, it’s a bit plain which at least involves the ignominy of having a really shit one (imagine watching the world die to New Zealand’s annoying bleeps or the alien Mexico forced to say ‘wow’ on repeat), but we can’t help but hanker for more. We’re sure the PM will sort this pressing need out imminently.
Not All Scandals Are Equal
This week’s news has been dominated once again by coverage of Jason Arday, although now in a very different tone. One of the things that has been so striking is the speed and quantity of coverage and, like many stories in the current media climate, this feels like one where everyone is commenting without holding all the facts in front of them. Needless to say, it is perhaps a time where all of us in the media should spend some time in self-reflection, ourselves included.
What is worth mentioning now is the sheer number of other Cambridge professors at the heart of scandals which never got anything like the same coverage.
There was, for example, a fresh wave of sexual harassment allegations levelled at Professor Simon Goldhill which led him to resign his post in June 2026 – an allegation somewhat more concerning than plagiarism that nonetheless only seemed to have broken into the Telegraph.
Or indeed, if shoddy research is your top concern among our universities academics, it is equally interesting how little attention David Latchman CBE received when a whistleblower alleged that the laboratory he’d presided over had been producing doctored papers – with investigations finding evidence of research fraud across 14 papers between 1990 and 2013. He’s now acting Vice-Chancellor at the University of London. Likewise, there’s Silvia Bulfone-Paus who retains employment at the University of Manchester despite having had many of her papers retracted by academic journals and institutions for containing false information.
Unless you are plugged into the scene, these may well have passed you by. Certainly they did not rack up 188 articles in a mere nine days.
Hackneyed
It’s been wonderful to see that Max Daly’s fantastic piece from a few years ago has been getting a second life, with lots of you finding it on the website of late. It is a gripping tale about Clapton, the murder mile and two figures caught up in London gang life. If you haven’t already, you should give it a read here.
This Little Recruit Stayed at Home
We enjoyed stumbling across this rather strange little memoir of sorts from a former U.S. Marine about what boot camp is really like. It’s a neat little insider’s account that really does put to rest any lingering ideas we might have of this kind of army training being designed to toughen folks up, or select those who are hardiest from a bunch of wannabe gunmen. It’s an interesting perspective because we hear not just that boot camp is horrible – we knew that – but that it is mostly just dumb and designed to be passed. It’s less of a tough selective process and more of a hard-to-escape brain-smoothing exercise.
We particularly enjoyed the fact that drill instructors have a lexicon that has remained decidedly old-fashioned, being passed down from one generation of shouty men to the next. Drill instructors will frequently describe bad showings as ‘heinous’ and tell recruits that it ‘would behoove you’ to listen to them. But, as these terms are yelled as loud as possible, there are frequent mishearings. Thus, genuine US drill instructors will frequently instruct, and write, to others that their conduct has been ‘anus’ and that it ‘would be who of you’ to pay closer attention next time. Those Yanks, eh?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjDHoNcH5o4
Incidentally, we recently heard a tale of a British lad going through boot camp here who, while at the firing range, was ordered by his CO to keep one earmuff off while shooting so he could hear orders properly. The new recruit took his next shot and promptly blew his eardrum, getting a medical discharge for his trouble. Perhaps this is a cross-Atlantic issue after all.
In Case You Missed It
The bird who can imitate a camera.
A rather fun interactive ‘audiovisual map of UK tourist notspots’.
Eyewitness to the Lewes derailing.
The toxic caterpillar infestation sweeping Europe
Bjork’s eclipse DJ set got weird.
And Finally
After Dark is an unparalleled repository of wayward characters. In 1988, the Duchess of Argyll went on the programme to have a gas about horse racing with a general and amateur steeple chaser by the name of Sir Cecil ‘Monkey’ Blacker. Dressed in a rhinestone, flesh-coloured smock dress, the Duchess makes what seems like a reasonable case in an admittedly extinct voice that horses need not be shot once they can’t compete any more. Monkey finds this worldview utterly outrageous. So does ‘Michael’, too, a man who joins the debate under a pseudonym – was this a thing? Did After Dark get members from the public to speak on TV under the protection of anonymity? Was horse racing that controversial? Mysterious. Anyway, another gem of a moment in the same programme was when the Duchess had to call it a day and leave the transmission early because she was tired. It was a slightly floatier and hoo-rah version of Tracey Emin’s disastrous jaunt on the show about a decade later.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIbLAxkmj1M
The Duchess has made other YouTube outings of note, including a few interviews on her famous divorce from – famously – possibly the worst man in England for a certain period of time. He has since invited some formidable rivals! The main appeal of these interviews is the now defunct voice and vertical hair on a former version of daytime TV, and which now only exists as a last posting on a newsletter.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qodF0C_8sw
Last posting posted its time to post up at last. We do hope you enjoyed this little canter – we look forward to bursting into your inbox with some very hefty offerings shortly, but whoever said there was anything wrong with keeping it light and breezy. Do keep sending in photos for a great chance to win a delectable bottled prize. Photos should be sent in to editorial@the-fence.com, which is also where you can pitch us and ask any pressing editorial questions. Any issues with the website or the mag can be directed to support@the-fence.com instead.
A reminder that now is the moment to subscribe to the print mag – the first 10 of you lovely lot will get more mag for your money than we’ve ever offered. Issues 24, 25, 26 and 27 along with the new fella. Agatha Christie was the first Western woman to stand up on a surfboard.
All the best,
TF