2026 and all that

The New Year seems to have got off to a catholic start. I was going to say ‘eclectic start’ but the word ‘catholic’, which is a synonym of ‘eclectic’, has a less inclusive feel to it. I like that. 

It’s unnatural for everyone to be included in everything; for everyone to have a right to everything; for everyone to make room for everyone else. Indeed, it’s funny how those who shout ‘inclusivity’ the loudest are the first to exclude we patriotic, neoliberal, gender-critical, Zionist, pseudo-Christians from participation, consideration and courtesy. That’s fine and dandy by me: ever since my most recent ostracism (I’m collecting them as avidly as Marilyn Monroe amassed notches on her bedpost) I’ve been able to spend more quality time with soulmates on the right-so-far side of discursive history.

Having alluded above to bedposts and promiscuity, I’ll increase the momentum (and the heart rate) by dwelling on Hubby’s and my trip to a New Year’s Eve cabaret in central London. When it comes to ‘the arts’, my tastes are somewhat ‘conservative’ (I could’ve said ‘orthodox’ to needle the anti-Zionists in particular); the stripteases, sex-simulations, gay-innuendos and rap-inspired language shocked me awake during the evening and gave me nightmares through to the morning. Maybe I would’ve appreciated the ‘artistry’ a bit more had I drunk more gin, but I’m still avoiding alcohol to any meaningful extent until I’m sure my innards aren’t going to do an Alien on me. I was improving really well until I legged it up Bison Hill towards Whipsnade the other day and over-worked my diaphragm. As a consequence, I had to have a couple of indoor days and I’m back on ibuprofen.

I was disappointed at the regression because, earlier on New Year’s Eve, Hubby and I had easily walked seven miles around Hampstead and the Heath, taking in part of Highgate Cemetery – dreadful place. Too, too crowded. Even the poshest graves are cheek-by-jowl with their neighbours – left, right, front and back. Can you imagine the hordes of spectres queuing every night to chat to their idols or, in my case, beat the cr@p out of Karl Marx? Better still, I could scratch out the inscription on the front of his tombstone that currently reads, “Workers of all lands unite", and replace it with “Workers need capitalism”. And on the rear where it says, "The philosophers have only interpreted the world in various ways; the point however is to change it", I could add, “Still waiting”. Don’t you think it’s ironic that Marx should end up with a glorious, elitist, expensive tomb deserving of the richest capitalist?

I wonder what Marx would make of Trump’s foray into the failed state of Venezuela and the arrest of its illegitimate leader, Maduro. Venezuela is a perfect example of how Marxism works in practice: 80% of citizens in poverty, 40% facing food insecurity, and inflation reached 1,700,000% in 2018; it’s now over 550%. Whoopee. 

I have to admit I’m enjoying the reaction of the (economic-illiterate) Trump-haters. In one breath they’re saying that the US has no right to remove a leader of a sovereign state, and in the same breath they’re demanding that Britain and our allies remove Trump from office. Elsewhere, I saw a clip where some Venezuelans were celebrating the removal of Maduro, alongside a clip of Americans demanding he be reinstated. I don’t know if Trump has broken international law – on the face of it, he was acting in self-defence against the illegal drug trade that’s destroying his country, but fine print is everything. For me, that’s not important because sometimes the law is an ass. The more pertinent question is, has Trump just made the world a safer or a more dangerous place? I don’t know that either; it depends on many impacts and consequences that have not yet come to pass. What I do know is that I could draw up a list of Maduro’s leadership styles and failings and people would assume I’m talking about Starmer. Will Trump oust Starmer? That would be orgasmic! Will he take over Greenland? Nah. Too cold. Can’t play golf there. Seriously, I wonder why Trump has adopted scorched-earth diplomacy regarding Greenland – could it be that he tried to negotiate in private but, well, you know what Europeans are like with negotiations and, unlike Blighty’s spineless politicians and civil servants, Trump isn’t going to just lie back and think of Mar-a-Lago.

Still looking overseas, this time with reference to a bill about to be shamefully passed by the House of Lords, an observant gentleman I know commented that Brits who construct their views on the quicksand of international law tend to be ashamed of Blighty’s colonial history; they advocate for reparations, espouse cultural relativity, and erect shrines to jumping spiders. It must therefore have been a struggle for them to square the circle that is the Chagos Islands. Starmer argues that we have no choice but to give money to Mauritius to take the Islands off our hands; it’s the law. This bad-deal-of-the-century rids us of some embarrassing colonial leftovers. However, it also facilitates the colonial ambitions of other states (Mauritius and China) at the expense of a non-Western peoples and their culture, with no reparations for those who have been wronged. And this week we learned that the transaction will be an environmental catastrophe. The odd spider with ants in their pants will be the least of the bleedin’ hearts’ concerns. At the time of posting this blog, I have yet to hear them try to circle the scalene triangle that is the Chagos Islands. Best they keep their heads down to avoid (yet more) ridicule.

In economic news, the FTSE 100 broke through 10,000 for the first time ever, and Rachel from accounts tried desperately to take the credit. She claimed that the record high was a vote of confidence in the British economy. No, deary, no. The FTSE 100 index tracks the performance of the London Stock Exchange's biggest 100 firms, and they mostly sell and profit globally with comparatively little to do with our economy. The FTSE 250 is more closely linked to the UK, and that has underperformed. She is so-obviously not an economist!

Still on the economy, Nigel Farage says he’s considering scrapping the Office for Budget Responsibility. This intention drew ridicule from those politicians, commentators and economists who can’t think beyond their Keynesian echo chamber and are happy for Keynesians to mark Keynesians’ homework, despite its explicit failings. Seemingly lone voices, like mine on LinkedIn, who dared to suggest that Liz Truss might not be totally to blame for her budget meltdown after she ignored the OBR, were also ridiculed … until those who understand the actual markets intervened. Thank you, Guys.

Coming up later in 2026 is a consultation to ban trail hunting. The politics-of-envy brigade are jubilant because they claim that fox hunting is cruel. Ummmm. Wakey, wakey! Fox hunting is already illegal, so what’s their beef? The targets of socialist spite this year are a fair number of very nice adults and kiddies – not all rich – on beloved horses and ponies galloping over the countryside with the landowners’ (mostly not rich) permission and with the support of millions (again, most not rich), if the Boxing Day attendances are anything to go by. Most of the time no animals are hurt or chased. I admit that sometimes the law is broken, intentionally or unintentionally, but is this a valid reason to outlaw a popular, accessible, healthy pastime? No. More wildlife is killed on our roads than during trail hunts – should driving be banned? Some nail bars and barbers are fronts for money laundering and illegal immigration, so manicures and beard trims should be consigned to history? Then there’s domestic cats that kill loads of wild birds and small mammals, including bats (oh no, not bats) – shall we outlaw and euthanise all felines? Too often moral standpoints don’t get thought through. They just get parroted for the sake of Twitter-likes.

All this is puerile when considered alongside the most tragic of headlines so far this year: the dozens of fatalities and horrific injuries in the Swiss bar, and the deaths of swimmers, bystanders and heroic would-be rescuers off the British coast in stormy waters. The victims are at peace now after horrendous suffering, but their loved ones’ torment lives on. Each New Year from now will be painful, not joyful, anniversaries. The mostly young lives lost might have improved the world had they lived. We’ll never know, which is part of the tragedy.

In memory of the deceased, I’d therefore like to offer up a prayer that at least a couple of the scenarios I’ve rattled through in this blog have a happy and peaceful outcome. God can choose which ones.