300 Ukrainians

An analogy struck me like a thunderbolt yesterday, and I don't know why I hadn't twigged it before. I don't know if anyone else has made the connection yet, but I haven't seen it.

Ukraine today stands much like the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae - outnumbered, outgunned, but refusing to yield. Just as the Spartans held the pass against a vastly larger Persian army, buying time for Greece to rally, Ukraine is holding the line against Russian aggression, giving Europe time to strengthen its defences. 

The Spartans fought not just for survival but to protect their way of life, knowing that surrender meant subjugation. Ukraine fights with the same resolve, standing as a shield for democratic nations against an imperialist force. And just as the Greeks ultimately triumphed because of the Spartans' sacrifice, Ukraine’s resistance could be the turning point that secures Europe's future - if the remaining free world (less America) stands firm in its support. However, it will come at the cost of Ukraine, just as Thermopylae cost the Spartans.

The similarities are stark! Zelensky is the Spartan, Leonidas, valiantly defending Greece, Putin is Xerxes, an imperialist invader. Trump is the traitorous Greek, Ephialtes, who betrayed the Spartans for Persian gold (minerals).

Trump has now confirmed what anyone with a functioning brain suspected. Ukraine is on its own. Aid is cut off, the American umbrella is gone, and Europe, despite its grand speeches about self-reliance, is nowhere near ready to step in. This is not just a bad decision. It is a catastrophic one.

If Ukraine is to survive, American deterrence is essential. Without it, there is no balance of power, no deterrent against Russian aggression, no way to stop Putin from achieving exactly what he set out to do. Ukraine cannot hold the line indefinitely without US weapons, intelligence and financial backing. The war will not end because Trump declares it so. What will end is Ukraine’s ability to resist, and with that, the very notion that the West stands for anything at all. Ukraine needs artillery shells, long-range missiles, air defence systems and intelligence support. With Trump cutting aid, all of that disappears, and Ukraine is left with nothing but dwindling stockpiles and empty promises from a Europe that is still struggling to rearm.

European leaders may try to compensate, but they are not yet ready to replace the US in providing deterrence. NATO has expanded, but expansion means nothing without the military capacity to defend new members. Countries like Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania have small armed forces, and while they are committed to NATO, they cannot hold off Russia alone. NATO’s entire strategy depends on rapid US reinforcements. Without them, Eastern Europe is a paper shield, and Putin knows it. Ukraine’s fall is not an immediate certainty, but at the current trajectory, military analysts estimate that within 12 to 24 months, Russian forces will have regained sufficient strength to overwhelm Ukrainian defences.

Europe has spent the past two years scrambling to prepare for this moment, but it is nowhere near ready. Defence industries take years to ramp up, military supply chains are still tangled in bureaucracy, and half of Europe is still clinging to the idea that diplomacy can work with a man who has made it clear that he only respects force. If Europe had spent the last decade preparing for this, things might be different, but it did not. It is only now waking up to the reality that it may have to stand alone, and it does not like what it sees.

Desperate to buy time, European leaders have resorted to stroking Trump’s ego, flattering him in the hope that he will throw them a bone. It is pragmatic, but doomed. He has no loyalty beyond himself. He demands absolute sycophancy, but it never guarantees results. He rewards praise only when it benefits him, and he will turn on allies the moment it suits him to do so. Europe’s leaders can grovel all they like, but the reality is that they cannot bribe, flatter or humour him into acting against his own instincts. Macron’s failed attempts at charm diplomacy, Johnson’s awkward flattery and the EU’s repeated concessions to his trade tantrums prove that he sees admiration as an entitlement, not an incentive. If they think they can manipulate him, they have learned nothing from the last eight years.

What follows from this is entirely predictable. With Trump refusing to step up to the plate and Europe not yet ready, Ukraine’s fate is sealed. It will not be an immediate collapse. Ukraine has fought too hard for that. It will be a slow, grinding loss. First, the ammunition shortages will start to bite. Then, as Russian forces regain their strength, Ukrainian troops will be forced to retreat. Bit by bit, Russia will reclaim more land, not through a dramatic offensive, but through sheer persistence. Eventually, without the ability to sustain its war effort, Ukraine will have no choice but to accept a so-called peace deal. The kind of peace that only works for the aggressor.

Undoubtedly there will be a massive flow of refugees into Europe, one than puts the small boats into perspective. However, there will be a healthy contingent of battle-hardened troops who could bolster Europe's decimated manpower, especially as they have been trained on western weaponry.  

If Ukraine falls, the consequences will not be limited to Ukraine. Russia will not stop at the Dnipro—it will push further, testing NATO’s resolve. Moldova, already partially occupied through the illegal presence of Russian troops in Transnistria, will likely be next. If NATO does not act, Russia will have carved out a path all the way to Romania’s border, positioning itself to disrupt supply lines and further weaken Western Europe’s security.

Putin will not stop there. He has no reason to. With Ukraine pacified, he will turn his attention elsewhere. Moldova is the next obvious target, but the real test will come when he starts probing NATO’s eastern flank. It will not begin with tanks rolling over borders. It will start with cyberattacks, political destabilisation, and manufactured border crises - tactics Putin has already used in Crimea, Moldova and Estonia. If NATO does not respond decisively, he will push further, testing the alliance at every step. If Trump signals that he has no intention of defending small countries in Eastern Europe, NATO’s credibility collapses.

At that point, Europe is forced into two equally appalling choices. Either it goes to war without American support, or it backs down and lets Russia take what it wants. A third option exists - massive NATO fortifications along the Polish and Baltic borders to contain Russia—but it is a last-resort strategy that leaves Ukraine permanently occupied and the alliance weakened. If NATO chooses war, it does so from a position of weakness, unprepared and divided. If it chooses appeasement, it hands Putin victory on a plate and proves that NATO is little more than a hollow shell. Either way, Russia wins.

It is at this stage that nuclear blackmail comes into play. Putin will not use nuclear weapons on the countries he wants to control. There would be no point in taking a wasteland. He will, however, threaten distant NATO members. The UK, Poland or any country he believes he can intimidate. The aim will be to paralyse NATO decision-making, to create division, fear and hesitation. Importantly, these would not be all-out nuclear war threats, but tactical nuclear strikes—small, battlefield-level detonations designed to break Western resolve. With Trump in office, Putin knows that all he needs to do is hold his nerve while the West dithers.

Of course, nothing in politics is permanent. Trump’s weakness on Russia is not America’s weakness - only his. If he is impeached, or if a Democrat wins in 2028, US policy could shift dramatically. Ukraine could receive renewed support, NATO could be reinforced, and Putin’s momentum could be stopped. But the damage done in the next four years will not be undone overnight. The question is whether Ukraine, NATO and Europe can hold out long enough to see that day come. If they cannot, history will remember Trump not as the man who saved America, but as the man who doomed the West.

Farage's denigration of a European Army looks a bit silly now..... Mind you, everything he says is silly - he's an industrial strength grievance machine with no solutions whatsoever.

I apologise for the crude image - I had to get No.1 Son to help me. If anyone can do a better one with AI, then please contact me, as this needs to go viral.

Sun Tzu or Maskirovka

Putin’s war machine is built on two things – brute force and outright fraud. When he tried to take Ukraine with brute force in 2022, it fell apart in spectacular fashion. But back in 2014, when he nicked Crimea, he did it the KGB way – deception, subversion and enough political theatre to make it look legitimate. If the full-scale invasion of Ukraine has been a masterclass in Russian incompetence, the annexation of Crimea was a masterclass in how to steal territory without firing a shot.

Russia didn't invade Crimea in the traditional sense. It absorbed it. First, it flooded the peninsula with spetsnaz, unmarked troops and undercover FSB operatives, then it rolled out the propaganda machine, convinced the local pro-Russian population they were in danger, and finally staged a referendum that was about as legitimate as a three-quid Rolex. By the time the world caught on, Russia had already changed the locks and put up curtains.

Sun Tzu would have given a nod of approval to the deception. Putin disguised his intentions, disguised his troops and disguised the annexation as a democratic choice. The key to it all was plausible deniability. The "little green men" weren’t Russian soldiers, apparently. The referendum was the "will of the people." Ukraine was "unable to govern Crimea properly" and the Russian-speaking population needed "protection." The whole thing was textbook "maskirovka", straight from the Soviet playbook.

Maskirovka – the Russian doctrine of military deception – has its roots in Tsarist Russia but was fully developed and institutionalised under the Soviet Union. The term itself means “disguise” or “camouflage”, but in practice, it covers a wide range of deception tactics, including false information, feints, decoys, psychological operations, and operational secrecy.

And it worked. The Ukrainian military, caught off guard, was paralysed. The West, still trying to believe Russia was a "rational actor", responded with diplomatic hand-wringing and weak sanctions. Putin had calculated, correctly, that the EU was too reliant on Russian gas and the US had no appetite for direct confrontation. Crimea was taken without a proper fight, and Russia was left with the impression that this kind of covert land grab was the future of warfare.

Which is exactly why Putin thought he could get away with the same trick in 2022. He sent in infiltrators, tried to prop up fake "pro-Russian" movements in Kharkiv and Zaporizhzhia, and expected Ukraine to fold like a deck of cards. But this time, Ukraine wasn’t playing along. The lessons of Crimea had been learned. The infiltration was countered, the collaborators were rounded up, and instead of a swift, bloodless takeover, Russia found itself bogged down in a real war – one that has exposed its military as a bloated, corrupt embarrassment.

Ukraine has since used Sun Tzu’s principles better than Russia ever could. Instead of playing defence, it has taken the war to Russian logistics, leadership and morale. Instead of engaging in costly urban warfare, it has drawn Russian forces into meat grinders like Bakhmut, forcing them to throw away men and equipment for minimal gains. Instead of letting Putin dictate the pace, Ukraine has launched blistering counteroffensives, striking where Russia is weakest. Every drone attack on Moscow, every hit on the Black Sea Fleet, every rail sabotage deep in Russian-occupied territory is part of the same strategy – keep the enemy unbalanced, stretched thin and doubting itself.

For all its grandstanding, the Russian military has shown that it can only win when no one is fighting back. Crimea was a coup, not a war. The moment it faced a real one, all its advantages vanished. Putin thought he could keep expanding Russia’s borders the way he took Crimea – quickly, quietly and without consequence. Instead, he has walked straight into a war of attrition he cannot afford.

Crimea was the high point of Russian hybrid warfare. Ukraine has made sure there won’t be another one.

Prince of Wales

Prince William spoke some Welsh the other day.

If the title Prince of Wales is meant to be more than just a bauble passed down through generations of English monarchs, then perhaps it’s time to rethink how future holders of the role are prepared for the job. At present, the process involves a bit of ceremony, a hastily arranged crash course in the language, and an investiture where the lucky lad gets to wave at some Welsh people before buggering off back to England.

Charles at least made a token effort, spending a term at Aberystwyth under the tutelage of Dr Tedi Millward, who must have had the patience of a saint. Young William, on the other hand, was simply handed the title without so much as an Os gwelwch yn dda. If the monarchy is serious about keeping Wales onside, it might want to try something more convincing than a few words of heavily coached Cymraeg before heading back to Sandhurst.

Which brings me to the obvious solution. If future Princes of Wales are expected to represent Wales, they should be educated in Wales. Not just for a term, but properly. The ideal candidate would attend a proper Welsh school – not a posh English one with a Welsh-language textbook on the shelf, but a real, immersive, fully-fledged Welsh education.

A Welsh Eton, if you will. Christ College in Brecon would be a good start. Founded in 1541, it has history, tradition, and academic clout. Llandovery College is another strong contender, especially given its rugby pedigree. But if we’re serious about making this work, the best choice would be a Welsh-medium state school like Ysgol Glantaf in Cardiff or Ysgol Bro Preseli in Pembrokeshire. Let the next Prince of Wales sit the Welsh Baccalaureate, play for the school’s first XV, and spend a few years actually living among the people they’re meant to represent.

And none of this half-hearted “tutored by an Oxbridge academic” nonsense. Full immersion. School assemblies in Welsh. History lessons that cover Owain Glyndŵr in a bit more depth than the standard footnote about being a “troublemaker.” A social life that involves more cawl and less Kensington. A few drunken nights out in Aberystwyth or Cardiff wouldn’t hurt either – essential cultural experience, that.

Of course, this would require the Palace to accept that the title Prince of Wales should be something other than a hereditary rubber stamp. That might be a stretch. After all, the last thing the establishment wants is for the heir to the throne to start identifying too much with the natives. One minute he’s reciting Dafydd ap Gwilym, the next he’s questioning why the English Crown still holds dominion over a country that has its own government, language, and increasingly little patience for being treated like a royal afterthought.

If the monarchy genuinely wants to modernise and retain relevance in Wales, it needs to start by treating the country as more than just a backdrop for pretty pictures and convenient titles. Future Princes of Wales should be educated in Wales, in Welsh, and by Welsh teachers. Otherwise, why bother with the title at all?

I spent 2 years at a public school in Anglesey between '69 and '71 - thankfully it was before Welsh became compulsory; however, speaking Dutch I couldn't see myself having problems with fluency - you see, Welsh as well as Dutch are classed not so much as languages as diseases of the throat and having one would make the other easy to speak, in a guttural sort of way.

The Iron Curtain of American Isolationism

"From the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the Canadian border to the Gulf of Mexico, an iron curtain has descended across the United States."

Once the leader of the free world, America now stands increasingly alone – walled off not just by policy, but by its own self-inflicted isolation. The alliances that once ensured global stability are strained, its moral authority diminished, and its voice in world affairs reduced to a whisper of its former self. Zelensky is now the Leader of the Free World.

This iron curtain is not the work of foreign adversaries – it is built from within. It is forged in the fires of populism, strengthened by a rejection of international cooperation, and held in place by a belief that America can turn inward and still lead. The world has moved forward, but America has stood still, locked behind walls of its own making – political, economic, and ideological.

In the years since Trump’s rise, this isolation has deepened. Long-standing allies are treated as adversaries, while strongmen and autocrats are embraced as friends. International agreements that once ensured peace and stability are torn up with reckless abandon, replaced with bluster and bravado. Once a nation of immigrants, America has turned hostile to the very people who once made it great. And as crises – climate change, pandemics, economic shifts – demand global solutions, America retreats behind its iron curtain, refusing to engage with a world that no longer waits for its leadership.

Behind this curtain, the truth is distorted. Americans are told that the world is their enemy, that alliances weaken rather than strengthen them, that self-reliance means isolation rather than cooperation. The great promise of American democracy – the idea that it could be a shining city on a hill – has been replaced by a fearful, suspicious nation, looking inward while the rest of the world moves on.

But history teaches us that no nation thrives in isolation. The great powers that cut themselves off from the world – whether by force or by folly – have all found themselves diminished. And so, America must ask itself: will it remain behind this iron curtain, shrinking in relevance, distrusted and resented by allies, gleefully exploited by adversaries? Or will it once again tear down this wall of its own making and rejoin the world, not as an isolated empire in decline, but as a nation willing to lead, to engage, and to stand for something greater than itself? For an iron curtain, once closed, does not open easily. But if America does not lift it, history will move forward without it.

Security Guarantees - the Farage Way

There's so much going on at present that I could be doing 3 or 4 posts a day. Three will suffice today, but I've already had to cancel several due to events overtaking me. So......

Nigel Farage, newly installed MP for Clacton and already proving he has absolutely no interest in representing the people who actually voted for him, was in Parliament yesterday dispensing his usual brand of Kremlin-friendly drivel. His latest gem? Apparently, a minerals deal between the USA and Ukraine should be "enough" of a security guarantee. Yes, because when you’re being shelled daily by a revanchist lunatic who wants to wipe your country off the map, what you really need is a robust trade agreement. I’m sure that’ll stop the tanks. Perhaps Ukraine could throw in a loyalty card too – buy ten Javelin missiles, get the next one free.

This is the same Farage who only yesterday was on the radio defending his admiration for Putin as an "operator." You know, the kind of operator who annexes territory, has political opponents thrown out of windows, poisons people in the UK and runs a war machine built on mass murder and propaganda. It does make you wonder what kind of "operations" Farage himself admires or wants to implement. Or perhaps he's just a bit jealous. After all, Putin doesn’t have to bother with elections. Farage is fast becoming a liability to Reform - a bit like their election manifesto promises that are totally devoid of actual, workable solutions.

But of course, Farage isn’t pro-Putin – he’s just anti-NATO, anti-Ukraine and anti-anything that involves standing up to actual tyranny. The man who spent years bleating about British sovereignty now seems to think other countries should just roll over and accept their lot. Ukraine doesn’t need security guarantees, he reckons – just a few contracts signed and a firm handshake. That should stop the missile strikes.

Meanwhile, Clacton, the town that actually put him in Westminster, gets nothing. No talk of investment, no plans for jobs or infrastructure – just another round of grandstanding about how the UK should be less supportive of Ukraine and more understanding of Putin’s needs. Perhaps his next big idea will be to offer Russia a fishing licence in the North Sea as a goodwill gesture.

If Farage had been around in 1939, he’d have told Poland to accept a nice trade deal with Germany and stop causing trouble. Maybe he’d have suggested Churchill send Hitler some discounted coal and call it even. But that’s the thing about Nigel. He’s never met a dictator he doesn’t want to flatter. If they’re anti-West, anti-democracy and allergic to basic decency, he’s all ears.

He even tried to furiously row back on his support for Andrew Tate on LBC Radio yesterday, but Nick Ferrari, the morning presenter, was having none of it and quoted his words back to him. Farage has previously praised Tate for being an ‘important voice’ for the ’emasculated’ and giving boys ‘perhaps a bit of confidence at school’. Farage must be feeling rather lonely at present. What on earth persuades people to vote for his toxic brand of grievance with no solutions?

A Compromised Trump

Donald Trump is back in the White House and, once again, the question looms over his presidency like a bad comb-over. What exactly does Vladimir Putin have on him? The usual suspects say it's money. Some think it's kompromat, the lurid kind. But Trump has always thrived on scandal. The real vulnerability has always been his ego, and if Putin has leverage, it is likely not a bedroom tape but something far more devastating. Proof that Trump’s victories were never really his own.

The 2024 election saw Trump storm back to power, defeating Kamala Harris with 312 electoral votes. He is now the first president since Grover Cleveland to serve two non-consecutive terms, a historical curiosity that overshadows the greater reality. This was not just a political comeback. It was a geopolitical disaster waiting to unfold. His stance on Ukraine is hostile, his intelligence appointments are dubious, and his war on the agencies that once investigated him has only escalated.

We have been here before. The Mueller investigation laid out in excruciating detail how Russia interfered in 2016, spreading disinformation and hacking emails to tip the scales in Trump’s favour. While Mueller stopped short of proving active collusion, the links between Trump’s campaign and Russian operatives were undeniable. Then came the Durham report, a desperate attempt to rewrite the narrative by painting the FBI as the real villains. But Durham failed to erase the original findings. Russia wanted Trump in power, and they helped him get there.

Trump’s history of undermining NATO should have been enough to confirm where his loyalties lie. Putin has long sought to weaken the alliance, and Trump has done his best to oblige. He has threatened to withdraw the U.S. from it, questioned its relevance, and most recently, said he would encourage Russia to attack members that do not meet defense spending targets. That is not foreign policy. That is outright sabotage.

Then there are the financial ties. Trump’s businesses have been awash with Russian money for decades, particularly through real estate deals. His 2016 campaign was still negotiating Trump Tower Moscow while he publicly denied any financial interests in Russia. He fought tooth and nail to keep his tax returns hidden, only for them to reveal extensive dealings that raise more questions than answers.

The attacks on U.S. intelligence agencies have been another hallmark of Trump’s tenure. He has spent years undermining the FBI and CIA for reporting on Russian election interference. At the 2018 Helsinki summit, standing next to Putin, he publicly dismissed his own intelligence agencies’ conclusions, siding with the Russian leader instead. Now, he has installed Kash Patel as FBI Director, a man whose main qualification is his willingness to dismantle any investigation into Trump’s dealings. Expect the FBI to suddenly refocus its attention on Trump’s enemies rather than foreign influence.

If there was any doubt about his alignment, his hostility toward Ukraine should put it to rest. His first impeachment was over his attempt to blackmail Zelenskyy into providing dirt on Biden in exchange for military aid. Now, in his second term, he has already snapped at Zelenskyy for not showing enough “gratitude.” This is not a man leading a democracy. This is a man laying the groundwork to abandon an ally to its fate.

Even before 2016, the Trump campaign made exactly one major change to the Republican platform. It removed language supporting lethal aid to Ukraine in its fight against Russian-backed separatists. That was not a coincidence. That was an early signal of where his loyalties lay.

Beyond direct policy, Trump’s broader behaviour aligns almost perfectly with Putin’s goals. He attacks the EU, weakens U.S. alliances, and praises autocrats while undermining democratic institutions at home. He admires Putin, Xi Jinping, and Kim Jong-un, treating their iron-fisted rule as a template rather than a cautionary tale. None of this is accidental. Putin does not need a puppet. He needs a chaotic wrecking ball who will tear apart Western alliances and isolate America from its allies. Trump fits the bill perfectly.

Then there is the election itself. Disinformation campaigns and cyberattacks targeting Kamala Harris surged in the months leading up to 2024, echoing the Russian interference in 2016. Russian-backed social media campaigns flooded swing states with misinformation about voter fraud, stoking distrust in the electoral process. AI-generated deepfake videos smeared Harris with fabricated scandals that played directly into existing political divisions. Trump’s messaging mirrored Russian propaganda almost word for word, particularly on Ukraine, NATO, and the supposed corruption of the Biden administration.

If Putin holds proof that Russian interference made the difference, that would be the one thing Trump could never withstand. His entire persona is built on the illusion of strength. Admitting he did not win on his own merit would destroy him. That explains why he spent his first term dismantling investigations, attacking intelligence agencies, and bending over backwards to please Putin. That explains why, even now, his policies continue to weaken the West while strengthening Russia.

What we are witnessing is not just political chaos but an erosion of Western power at the hands of a man who cares more about personal validation than national security. The United States is once again led by someone whose loyalty is, at best, questionable and, at worst, entirely compromised. And the worst part? This is not a new story. It is the same script playing out again, only this time the stakes are even higher. The longer America refuses to face this reality, the deeper the damage will go. By the time they finally wake up, it may be too late to undo what has already been set in motion.

Oil Subsidies

For decades, governments have shovelled eye-watering sums of money into the pockets of fossil fuel giants, all in the name of keeping energy affordable. Billions, trillions, even, spent propping up an industry that has known full well for over half a century that it's cooking the planet. And what do we, the public, get in return? Higher bills, air pollution, and the occasional PR campaign about how Shell and BP are apparently our saviours in the transition to green energy, while they simultaneously invest billions in squeezing the last drop of profit from oil and gas.

But what if, just imagine, those subsidies were redirected to renewables instead? Not to line the pockets of energy oligarchs, not to fund another round of taxpayer-funded oil exploration, but to actually create a clean, self-sustaining energy system. The result would be nothing short of transformational.

First, let’s talk cost. Fossil fuels aren’t cheap, they’re just subsidised into affordability. If the same financial support went to wind, solar, and energy storage, the cost of renewables would plummet, making electricity cheaper for everyone. No more riding the rollercoaster of gas price volatility. No more blackmail from despots holding energy supplies hostage. Just abundant, domestically produced energy from the sun and wind, things, incidentally, that no dictator can turn off at the tap.

Then there’s the small matter of climate change. The fossil fuel industry has been given a free pass to pollute for decades, with the rest of us picking up the bill, whether through environmental damage, extreme weather, or increased healthcare costs thanks to dirty air. Redirecting subsidies to renewables wouldn’t just be an economic shift; it would be an act of self-preservation. Fewer emissions, cleaner air, healthier people. It’s so blindingly obvious that it almost feels ridiculous to spell it out.

And jobs, ah yes, the perennial excuse from fossil fuel lobbyists who suddenly discover their concern for workers when their profits are threatened. Let’s be clear: the renewable sector already employs more people worldwide than coal, oil, and gas combined. If we actually backed green energy properly, we’d create millions of new, sustainable jobs, ones that don’t involve digging, drilling, or inhaling carcinogenic fumes all day. The only people who stand to lose out are those at the very top of the fossil fuel pyramid, and frankly, they’ll be just fine, possibly a bit less obscenely rich, but still comfortably nestled in their tax havens.

Of course, the fossil fuel industry won’t go quietly. They’ll lobby, whinge, and claim that civilisation itself will collapse if we stop bankrolling them. They’ll commission think tanks to churn out reports “proving” that renewables are unreliable and expensive. They’ll fund politicians who parrot the same tired nonsense about “keeping the lights on.” But let’s not forget: these are the same people who have lied through their teeth for decades about the damage they’re doing. Their credibility is as dead as the dinosaurs their industry is built on.

So why aren’t governments acting? Simple, because the fossil fuel industry still holds the levers of power. Until that grip is broken, we’ll keep funnelling taxpayer money into their coffers while they squeeze every last penny from a dying industry. The choice is clear: keep subsidising decline or invest in the future. It’s time to stop throwing good money after bad and start backing a system that actually works for people, not just corporate profit margins.

The biggest obstacle isn’t technical, it’s political inertia and vested interests clinging to fossil fuels like a security blanket. If the government got serious, upgraded the grid, backed storage, and stopped pandering to the oil and gas lobby, we could have cheap, homegrown, renewable energy for all. And it wouldn’t take decades. With proper investment and reform, the UK could be largely self-sufficient on renewables within 10 to 15 years, cutting bills, boosting energy security, and leaving the fossil fuel barons scrambling for relevance. But until that happens, we’ll keep subsidising failure while the solutions sit right in front of us.

Dark Chocolate

Dark chocolate – the con artist of the confectionery world. A substance so bitter, so devoid of joy, that only the truly self-flagellating would willingly consume it without drowning it in orange or some other flavour strong enough to mask its inherent nastiness. And yet, there exists a cult – a deluded band of masochists – who insist not only on eating it but on looking down their noses at those of us who prefer our chocolate to actually taste nice.

“Ah, but it’s sophisticated,” they say, swirling their 85% cocoa misery in their mouths like a wine snob gargling vinegar. “It’s healthier, full of antioxidants.” Yes, well, so is tree bark, but you don’t see people shaving that into their coffee or rhapsodising over its nuanced flavour profile, do you?

The health argument is always the last refuge of the joyless. They can’t bring themselves to admit they don’t actually enjoy the taste – no, they’ve convinced themselves that suffering through the bitterness is an intellectual pursuit, a refined pleasure. Meanwhile, the rest of us – the rational, the sane – are content to enjoy chocolate that actually behaves like chocolate: smooth, creamy, and not reminiscent of chewing on a burnt coffee bean.

And let’s talk about those percentages. What exactly are they meant to signify? 70%, 85%, 99% – a sliding scale of smugness? At what point does it cease being chocolate and simply become edible tar? There’s a point of no return where the cocoa content is so high that the entire point of chocolate – pleasure – is completely obliterated. But no, the dark chocolate brigade will still be there, gnawing away at their cocoa bricks, pretending to enjoy themselves while their taste buds wither in protest.

Of course, the only time dark chocolate is even remotely palatable is when it’s drowned in orange, mint, or some other assertive flavour that can slap it into submission. At that point, it ceases to be dark chocolate and becomes a mere vessel for something actually pleasant. The same people who turn their noses up at a humble bar of Dairy Milk will suddenly wax lyrical about a chocolate orange as if the presence of a citrus note suddenly justifies the horror beneath.

It’s time to stop pretending. Dark chocolate is a fraud. A bitter, pretentious fraud. If you like it, fine – but don’t try to convince the rest of us that we’re missing out on anything other than a mouthful of disappointment.

The Machine Stops

I recently bought a copy of EM Forster’s The Machine Stops. A short story, barely 12,000 words, written in 1909, and yet it reads like a prophecy – not of some distant dystopia, but of the past fifteen years of British decline. I highly recommend it as a read – unsettlingly prescient and far more relevant than it has any right to be.

Forster describes a world where people live in isolated pods, sustained by an all-encompassing, omnipotent Machine. Everything – their needs, their communications, their very thoughts – is mediated through it. Nobody questions it, nobody challenges it, and when it starts to break down, they simply hope it will sort itself out. Sound familiar?

The UK, once a country that built things, invented things, and shaped the world, now resembles Forster’s Machine-dependent society. The government, the institutions, the public services – all slowly breaking down while people either pretend not to notice or mumble vaguely about how someone, somewhere, ought to do something. It started with austerity, the great hollowing-out. Schools, hospitals, councils – cut to the bone. “We must tighten our belts,” they said, as if running a country were akin to a household budget and not, say, an economic system requiring investment to function. We were assured it was necessary, prudent, the only way forward. Fast forward a decade and the NHS is gasping, councils are going bankrupt, and entire industries are now reliant on food banks to sustain their workers.

Then came Brexit – the great act of national self-harm, wrapped in the language of liberation. “Take back control,” they cried, as they set fire to trade deals, choked supply chains, and threw up border checks that made even the simplest transaction a bureaucratic nightmare. Like Forster’s citizens, the Brexiteers were certain they were free – even as the Machine tightened its grip. Everything that followed – the economic stagnation, the worker shortages, the crumbling international reputation – was brushed off as “teething problems” or, even more laughably, blamed on Remainers for not believing hard enough.

Forster’s Machine ultimately collapses because no one remembers how to fix it. The people, long stripped of autonomy, simply sit in their pods, waiting for someone else to solve the problem. And that, perhaps, is the biggest parallel of all. Britain is broken, but the response is inertia. A nation that once led the Industrial Revolution now accepts rolling infrastructure failures as a fact of life. Trains don’t run, ambulances don’t turn up, everything is falling apart – but we just shrug and carry on.

Of course, the difference is that Forster’s world was pure fiction. Ours isn’t. The Machine isn’t stopping – it’s grinding on, ever more dysfunctional, ever more detached from reality, while those in charge pretend nothing is wrong. And if we don’t snap out of it soon, we’ll end up just like Forster’s doomed society – bewildered, powerless, and crushed beneath the weight of our own negligence.

Zelensky - Trump

It takes a special kind of hubris to publicly dress down a wartime leader whose country is fighting for its survival, but Trump and his new pet, JD Vance, have managed it in spectacular fashion. The Oval Office showdown with Zelensky wasn’t just an exercise in diplomatic incompetence – it was a calculated humiliation, a thinly veiled message to Putin that his man in Washington is ready to play ball.

Zelensky, a man who has spent the last three years leading his nation against an unprovoked invasion, was essentially summoned to the White House for a berating. Not a strategic discussion, not a private warning – a public dressing-down designed for maximum humiliation. Vance, a man whose foreign policy expertise extends no further than his ability to parrot MAGA talking points, had the gall to tell Zelensky that the war must be ended through diplomacy.

What kind of diplomacy? That was Zelensky’s entirely reasonable question. And for this, he was accused of being disrespectful. This, coming from the same Trump who only days ago labelled Zelensky a dictator and has a 4% popularity – an utterly absurd comparison that does nothing but parrot Kremlin propaganda. Disrespectful to whom, exactly? To an administration that, in just a few months, has already started making excuses for Putin? To a man who, in his first term, tried to blackmail Ukraine by withholding military aid in a bid to dig up dirt on his political opponent? To a government that has openly toyed with the idea of cutting off support entirely, while feeding Russian propaganda lines about Ukraine’s so-called intransigence? There was only one distator in that room, and the long shadow of another.

What is leading to WWIII is not Ukraine, as Vance suggested, but Trump throwing NATO under the bus - it's the existence of NATO that has averted WWIII to date. But here’s the real twist: JD Vance himself once compared Trump’s movement to Hitler’s rise. Back in 2016, before he realised that his path to power required full MAGA servitude, he warned about Trump’s demagoguery and the danger of a strongman cult. Yet here he is, Trump’s lapdog-in-chief, standing beside him as he shames a democratic leader who has risked everything to protect his country.

Vance’s transformation from principled critic to Trump’s obsequious errand boy is one of the most shameless political conversions in modern history. This is a man who once viewed Trump as a threat to democracy, yet now stands beside him spouting Kremlin-approved talking points. And all while performing the political gymnastics required to pretend he still has a shred of integrity. The reality is, he doesn’t. He traded that in the moment he realised that kissing Trump’s boots was his ticket to power.

The performance in the Oval Office was not about foreign policy. It was about subjugation. Zelensky was meant to play the role of the grateful servant, nodding along as Trump and Vance lectured him on diplomacy – meaning, of course, that he should surrender Ukrainian land to Putin in exchange for Trump’s good graces. When he failed to comply, they attacked him for being ungrateful. The irony is staggering: the same Trump who held Ukraine’s military aid hostage in 2019 is now moaning that Zelensky hasn’t been grovelling enough for US support.

Make no mistake – this is about setting the stage for America’s full retreat from Ukraine, the green light that Putin has been waiting for. Trump has long admired strongmen, and if anyone was grinning from ear to ear watching that Oval Office spectacle, it was Vladimir Putin himself. He got exactly what he wanted: a fractured West, an emboldened Russia, and a US administration willing to undermine its own allies to serve domestic political theatre.

What This Means for Europe

• This Oval Office humiliation of Zelensky is a flashing red warning light for Europe. 
• Trump’s return means the US can no longer be trusted to uphold NATO’s security. 
• If Ukraine is thrown under the bus, how long before NATO itself is next? 
• A Weakened Ukraine Strengthens Russia – If Trump and Vance cut off support, Putin will drag out the war, knowing Ukraine will be forced to surrender territory. 
• The Baltic states, Moldova, even Poland – they’re all watching this unfold with growing alarm.
• Europe’s Defence is Now Its Own Problem – Macron has long argued for a European defence policy, and if Trump abandons Ukraine, that urgency will only grow. 
• But the reality is, Europe is not ready to defend itself without US support. 
• NATO’s Existential Crisis – Trump has already threatened to let Russia do what it wants to NATO members who don’t “pay enough.” If Ukraine is abandoned, it sets a precedent: NATO protection is no longer guaranteed. 
• Energy Security at Risk – A stronger Russia means renewed attempts to undermine European energy independence. If Trump cozies up to the Kremlin, expect attempts to reverse Europe’s shift away from Russian gas. 
• A Gift to the European Far Right – Le Pen, AfD, and Orbán will use this moment to push for dropping Ukraine support and aligning with Trump’s isolationism. Another Kremlin win.

Starmer now faces a huge decision. He wants to fund defence spending by raiding International Aid, but that won’t cut it. If Britain is serious about defence and security, then massive borrowing is unavoidable – and that means ditching the Tory-imposed fiscal straitjacket. The UK’s foreign aid budget is £10 billion a year, while Starmer wants to raise defence spending to 2.5% of GDP – an increase of about £20 billion a year. Even scrapping aid wouldn’t be enough. And cutting aid to fund defence is a false economy anyway – it creates instability, leading to higher security risks later. It's the time to borrown big.

• Acknowledge reality – The UK cannot meet modern defence challenges without borrowing tens of billions. 
• Ditch the arbitrary fiscal rules – Invest in security the way successful economies invest in infrastructure and industry. 
• Use borrowing strategically – Long-term bonds at low interest rates should fund defence modernisation. 
• Boost UK defence production – Investing in arms manufacturing creates jobs and offsets borrowing costs. 
• Strengthen European defence ties – If Trump guts NATO, the UK must work closely with France, Germany, and the EU.

The choice is clear. If Starmer sticks to Tory economic orthodoxy, he’ll end up making marginal, ineffective tweaks while the world grows more dangerous. Either he embraces borrowing to secure Britain’s defences, or he presides over a military decline at the worst possible time. Should the King's State Visit invitation be withdrawn from Trump? Definitely.

Trump is in power. Putin is watching. Putin is laughing. Europe is vulnerable. Now is not the time for timid economic caution – it’s time for action.

What does Putin have on Trump? Probably nothing so tawdry as sex tapes. More likely, evidence of Russian interference in American elections and casting doubt on Trump's legitimacy. To Trump's ego, that would be anathema. It's telling that Associated Press were not invited to the press conference, but TASS, the Russian news agency, was.

And what of China? Could Xi step in and provide a security blanket in return for minerals? Not impossible as America stands back from the world stage. In reality, Ukraine needs Western support for its security, and China knows it. A Beijing-brokered deal would come with too many strings, too little real protection, and too much geopolitical risk. Xi won’t stick his neck out for Ukraine - unless it’s on China’s terms, for China’s benefit, and at minimal cost.

And we have ......Farage..... Farage’s blind allegiance to Trump may have seemed like a winning strategy until now, but it’s a ticking time bomb for his electoral chances in the UK. Trump’s antics, from cosying up to Putin to humiliating Zelensky, are out of step with the British electorate. Farage’s unwavering support for him could well alienate voters who see Ukraine’s struggle as a fight for democracy. And when Trump inevitably drops him faster than a dodgy NFT scheme, Farage will be left floundering, his political career resembling one of his ill-fated fishing trips – a lot of bluster, not much to show for it, and a strong whiff of something unpleasant lingering in the air. Hitching his wagon to a sinking ship might just torpedo his long-cherished ambitions of making Reform a major force in British politics. Or at least it would, if Reform was anything more than a glorified pub rant with a logo.

Let's be clear, this isn't about putting boots on the ground in Ukraine (although rumours abound that British special forces are already there, but the government wouldn't admit it if they were), but arming Ukraine and being prepared for if Ukraine falls, as a NATO ally could be next.

Tate Bros

So, the Tate brothers have slithered out of Romania under what can only be described as curious circumstances. One minute they’re wailing about persecution, the next they’ve wafted off like a bad smell, and suddenly the usual suspects are whispering that Trump had a hand in it. Given Trump’s track record with grifters, misogynists, and blokes with dodgy hair, it wouldn’t be entirely surprising.

But it does get one thinking – if Trump really is running some sort of ‘bellends witness protection programme,’ could we, in Britain, leverage this to our advantage? Specifically, if we were to finally lock up Tommy Robinson, could we count on Trump to orchestrate his grand exfiltration to the land of the free (free to be an unrelenting nuisance, that is)?

It would be a win-win. Robinson gets to bask in the adulation of people who don’t mind if their ‘freedom fighters’ are actually criminally inclined gobshites, and we in the UK get a little more peace and quiet – or at least one less shouty man clogging up the courts with appeals against his latest bout of self-inflicted martyrdom.

Think about it: a well-placed conviction, a bit of whining about oppression, and before you know it, he’s being bundled onto a plane bound for Mar-a-Lago. Trump would probably host a press conference about it, flanked by Bannon and a bloke wearing a raccoon as a hat, droning on about ‘cancel culture’ and ‘free speech.’ Robinson, meanwhile, could take up residence as the UK's unofficial ambassador to the far-right peanut gallery, living out his days grifting in a country where the market for his schtick is far from saturated.

And what’s the alternative? We continue letting him roam about, staging his tragic little stunts, filling up police time and getting dragged out of pubs for the umpteenth time? No, let’s be proactive. Jail him for something – shouldn’t be hard – and wait for the Trump extradition squad to sweep in like some bizarre, unholy SEAL Team.

Frankly, if we’d thought of this earlier, we could have cleared out a whole rogues' gallery of ne’er-do-wells. Imagine Katie Hopkins getting ‘rescued’ by Trump and spending her twilight years ranting about ‘woke police’ in a strip mall somewhere in Florida. Or Farage, finally gifted the full MAGA citizenship he’s been drooling over for years. We could even sweeten the deal with a ‘buy one, get one free’ on right-wing grifters – chuck in Laurence Fox as a complimentary extra.

And why stop there? Boris Johnson was born in America anyway – technically, he’s their problem. He’d fit right in, guffawing his way through another shambolic leadership bid while the Republicans pretend not to notice his complete lack of competence. As for Liz Truss, well, if anyone could make a case for ‘political asylum,’ it’s her – surely she’s got a better shot at reviving her political career among the deranged cheerleaders of ‘Trussonomics’ across the pond.

At this point, it’s just basic diplomacy. If Trump is indeed running a charity service for washed-up reactionaries, then by all means, let’s make the most of it. A little creative sentencing, a well-timed media storm, and whoosh – off they go. America gets its latest ‘political prisoner’ (their words, not ours), and we get one less pain in the arse. Sounds like a fair trade to me.

Speaking of the Tate brothers, they've got more in common with the Taliban than they do with your average grifting right-winger. Their views on women are about as progressive as a 13th-century warlord’s, and if they had their way, half the population would be locked indoors, obedient and veiled. Maybe Andrew Tate's next move will be to declare himself the Supreme Emir of Afghanistan – though given his apparent knack for getting into legal trouble, he’d best start planning his next escape strategy now.

Aid for Defence

Keir Starmer is making a right pig’s ear of things. He’s so fixated on the idea that Reform is peeling off working-class votes that he’s now running after Farage’s lot like a desperate ex trying to prove he’s still relevant. His latest wheeze? Raiding the foreign aid budget to boost defence spending. It’s performative, it’s pointless, and worst of all, it’s Tory thinking dressed up in Labour clothing.

Let’s be clear. Labour did not just inherit the economic straightjacket from the Tories, they willingly strapped it on. Rachel Reeves has tethered herself to fiscal rules designed for austerity politics, all while the country desperately needs investment. Borrowing is not reckless. It is how economies grow. Every pound invested in defence contracts, infrastructure, and recruitment does not just strengthen national security. It feeds into manufacturing, R&D, and jobs, boosting GDP and tax revenues in the process.

Starmer is running after Reform voters who were never his to begin with, while alienating the people who actually put him in power. He is not in danger of being outflanked by Reform. He is in danger of boring his own voters into apathy, handing the Tories an easy win.

And cutting development aid is not just cruel. It is idiotic. Aid prevents the very instability that leads to war, migration, and security threats. Slash it and we will spend even more dealing with the fallout later. If Starmer thinks gutting aid is the way to bolster defence, he has got it backwards. The less we invest in global stability, the more we will end up spending on military interventions and crisis management down the line. But there is another problem. Where Britain retreats, China steps in. Beijing has spent years using development aid and infrastructure projects to expand its global influence. The UK slashing its already meagre foreign aid budget will not just weaken our global standing. It will hand influence in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East to the Chinese Communist Party on a silver platter.

Foreign aid is not just charity. It is soft power. It is the ability to persuade developing nations to vote with you in the United Nations, support your diplomatic efforts, and reject the influence of authoritarian regimes. Right now, as Russia and China work to reshape global institutions in their favour, cutting aid is an act of strategic self-sabotage. If the UK is not investing in relationships with the Global South, Beijing and Moscow will. That has consequences on sanctions, on security resolutions, and on international legitimacy. When Britain abandons its allies, it loses its voice on the world stage.

Of course, there is an election on the horizon. Labour faces a serious test in the local elections in May, and it is possible Starmer’s judgement is being clouded by short-term political calculations. He might even have a point. A weak showing in May would embolden the right-wing press and Tory MPs desperate to reclaim ground. But here is the thing. Most of us could not care less who runs our councils, so long as the bins are emptied and the buses run on time. Starmer is acting like this is a national referendum on his leadership, when in reality, most voters just want basic services to work. Labour is overestimating the threat while underestimating how much damage they are doing to their own base.

And let’s talk about defence. If Labour is serious about it, the real solution is not scrimping and saving from aid budgets. It is proper investment. That means borrowing to fund defence increases in a way that actually strengthens the economy. Infrastructure, technology, workforce expansion. None of it happens without capital. The UK is in a far better position to borrow than the doom-mongers in the Treasury would have you believe. Yet Starmer is still dancing to the Tory tune of debt-phobia while pretending he is being pragmatic.

Labour wants a bigger military while cutting migration, despite the fact that 10 percent of armed forces personnel are foreign-born. Do they want a stronger defence or fewer migrants? Because they cannot have both.

Then there is the unavoidable fact that borrowing to fund defence will itself increase GDP. That is how economies work. More spending means more jobs, more industrial output, and more tax revenue. The UK defence industry is a massive employer, with supply chains feeding into manufacturing, engineering, and research. A bigger defence budget means more money circulating through the economy, and that in turn pushes GDP higher. But here is the kicker. If GDP rises, Labour will have to spend even more on defence just to keep up with its own 2.5 percent of GDP target. The better the economy does, the bigger the cheque they will need to write for the military. They are setting themselves up for a cycle where success demands ever greater spending, yet they refuse to make the case for borrowing as a long-term investment and will have to cut foreign aid even further. It is economic illiteracy dressed up as fiscal prudence.

Harold Macmillan was once asked what derails governments, and his response was simple. “Events, dear boy, events.” That is where Labour is headed. By prioritising optics over economic logic, they are setting themselves up for failure. The fiscal rules they have shackled themselves to will be broken sooner or later because that is what happens when reality intervenes. The choice Starmer faces is not whether to stick to Tory-lite economic discipline or to break it. It is whether to do it on his own terms or be forced into a U-turn later.

If Labour had the courage of its convictions, it would be making the argument for a smarter economic strategy, not just nibbling at Tory policies while pretending they are doing something radical. Labour is not heading for a battle with Reform. It is walking itself into an open goal for the Tories.

Reform Questions

I've been working on a set of questions to ask Reform Ltd. supporters. To date I've not received one sensible response. One woman, a dyed-in-the-wool supporter, just keeps diverting the conversation with irrelevancies and staunchly refuses to engage with the questions. In fact, she's done me a favour by initiating more questions than I already had.

Here they are:

1. Brexit Promises vs. Reality 

• If Brexit wasn’t "done properly," what does "proper" even mean? What policies would you implement, and how exactly would they improve growth, trade, and living standards?
• If Brexit was meant to boost the economy, why is the UK now lagging behind the very EU countries we were promised we'd outperform? Nigel Farage promised £350 million a week for the NHS, fewer migrants, and greater prosperity. Can you point to a single one of those promises that's actually been delivered?
• If Brexit was about "sovereignty," why are we now dependent on US trade deals that undermine British farmers, and why did Farage support the disastrous Australia deal?
• If Farage, Tice, and Murdoch are such patriots, why do they keep their money offshore while backing policies that harm British workers and businesses?

2. Immigration Myths vs. Facts

• If mass immigration causes stagnant wages and housing shortages, why have these problems worsened since the UK regained full control of its borders? 
• If immigration supposedly strains public services, why can't the NHS function without immigrant staff? 
• If immigration depresses wages, why have real wages stagnated for over a decade, even after immigration fell post-Brexit? 
• State pensions are funded by current workers, not individual savings. The pensioner population will grow by 14% by 2032, while the working-age population will rise by just 9%, according to the ONS. Since net migration drives most working-age growth, how do you sustain the tax base while calling for lower immigration? 
• The NHS relies heavily on taxes from the working-age population. The 85+ population is set to nearly double by 2047, according to the ONS. How do you plan to fund and staff the NHS while cutting immigration, given that migrants form a significant part of both the workforce and tax base?
• If we want to build 1.5m homes, homes that are desperately needed, it's estimated we'll require 300,000 more builders and construction workers. Where will we get them fully trained and ready to start immediately?

3. Reform's Empty Promises

• Reform UK claims to stand up for the "left behind." Can you name a single policy that would actually lift a struggling community out of poverty? 
• If Reform cares so much about working people, why do they back tax cuts for the rich while slashing services ordinary families rely on? 
• Independent analysis has exposed a £60–89 billion black hole in Reform's election manifesto. Given Farage has already promised £150 billion in public service cuts, how exactly do they plan to plug the gap? Or is this just more fantasy economics with real-world consequences? 
• If both the Tories and Labour are so terrible, why has Farage failed to win a parliamentary seat until now, despite standing seven times before?

4. Net Zero and Energy Realities

• How does scrapping net zero lower bills, create jobs, or improve energy security when renewables are now cheaper than fossil fuels – and cheap electricity could turbo-charge British steel production and manufacturing? 
• The green economy already supports 430,000 UK jobs, projected to hit 1.2 million by 2050. Scrap net zero, and where do those jobs go – or are they just “woke” collateral damage? 
• If the Industrial Revolution was inevitable and, despite initial disruption, created far more jobs and prosperity than it destroyed, why oppose the net zero transition – especially when it promises abundant, cheap electricity to cut production costs, revive steelmaking, and make Britain a manufacturing powerhouse again? 
• If Farage is so confident fossil fuels are the future, why are oil and gas giants themselves investing billions in renewables? 
• Fusion energy might one day be a game-changer, but it's decades away from delivering power at scale. And even if the technology matures, Tritium – its essential fuel – remains scarce, expensive, and difficult to produce. Is waiting for a far-off miracle really smarter than backing renewables that are already delivering cheap, reliable energy? 
• Do you really believe sticking with expensive fossil fuels will protect jobs or lower household bills? And if climate change is just a "myth," why are insurance premiums soaring, harvests failing, and flood defences being raised year after year?

5. Rights, Freedoms, and Dangerous Precedents

• If we were to leave the ECHR, as Farage wants, how would you overcome the Northern Ireland Agreement having the ECHR baked into it? Or does the peace process not matter? 
• If Farage drags us out of the ECHR, what stops a future government banning Reform rallies, shutting down GB News, or arresting leaders under "extremism" laws? No ECHR means no higher court to challenge state overreach. Are you really that naïve – or just that desperate for revenge against sensible people?

6. The Bigger Picture

• What’s your actual solution for improving Britain? Because blaming the EU, immigrants, and net zero isn’t a plan – it’s just lazy finger-pointing. 
• Reform loves to bang on about "British values." Since when did shirking responsibility, scapegoating minorities, offering snake-oil economics and using offshore accounts count as patriotism? 
• If Reform represents "common sense," why do their policies collapse under even basic scrutiny – or is blind rage the only thing holding the movement together? 
• Have you actually read Reform’s 2024 manifesto, or does shouting "immigrant" drown out every rational thought? That’s not patriotism – it's national self-harm.
• Why are you so stupid?

I'm working on some MAGA questions along the same lines - watch this space.

The Concept Album

I recently picked up a vinyl copy of Frank Zappa's Freak Out!, which is often hailed as the first concept album. Of course, this being Zappa, the concept mostly involves ridiculing everything in sight while throwing in a few avant-garde noises that sound like someone torturing a trombone. But the claim got me thinking – was it really the first concept album? Or is this just another case of the rock crowd declaring they invented something that had already been done centuries earlier by men in wigs?

Take Gustav Holst's The Planets. Written between 1914 and 1917, it’s a seven-movement suite where each piece represents a planet and its associated astrological character. It’s basically a concept album about the solar system – except Pluto got left out, though to be fair, even NASA can’t decide whether it belongs. Holst may not have had the benefit of a lavish gatefold sleeve or a Rolling Stone review, but if The Planets isn’t a concept album, I don’t know what is.

Or how about Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons? Composed in the early 18th century, it’s a set of four violin concertos, each painting a musical picture of the time of year. Birds chirp, storms rage, peasants get drunk. It’s practically a baroque version of Dark Side of the Moon, minus the paranoia and sound effects of cash registers. More importantly, it’s got a cohesive theme, and that, I’m told, is what makes a concept album.

Now, some might say, “Ah, but those were suites, written for live performance, not recorded music.” And yes, that’s technically true – Holst and Vivaldi weren’t laying down tracks for vinyl pressings. But what of it? They’re both thematic works designed to be played in sequence for a cumulative effect. Are we really going to disqualify them just because they were released a couple of centuries before someone thought to stick a microphone in front of an orchestra?

And if we’re going to be pedantic about format, we should also consider that neither Freak Out! nor Sgt. Pepper – another supposed “first” concept album – were originally intended as uninterrupted thematic pieces either. Zappa’s was more a collection of loosely related satirical sketches, and The Beatles’ effort was a brilliant but somewhat patchwork affair. The Planets and The Four Seasons, on the other hand, are laser-focused on their respective themes – one cosmic, the other meteorological.

So, is Freak Out! really the first concept album? Only if you ignore a few hundred years of classical music. Rock critics may scoff, but Holst and Vivaldi were dropping themed bangers long before Zappa was terrifying record executives. Perhaps it’s time we gave classical music its due and admitted that the first true concept albums were written with quills, not guitars. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find a vinyl copy of The Planets – because let’s face it, everything sounds better with a few crackles and pops.

Nuclear Fusion

Nuclear fusion. The holy grail of energy. Clean, limitless, and always "just 30 years away." We've been hearing that since Harold Wilson was banging on about the "white heat of technology." Yet here we are, decades later, still waiting for the miracle to land.

The latest projections? Optimists claim grid-ready fusion by the 2030s. Realists lean towards 2050. Even if they crack the physics – which is no small feat – the economics look ropey. Fusion's levelised cost of energy is pegged at around $121 per megawatt-hour. Compare that to solar and wind, comfortably sitting between $29 and $46 per megawatt-hour. One is powering homes today. The other is still burning through billions in research grants.

Then there's the fuel. Fusion reactors need tritium – a rare, radioactive isotope of hydrogen. The global stockpile? About 25 to 30 kilograms. Enough to power a couple of test reactors, not a fleet of commercial plants. It's currently harvested from heavy water reactors like Canada's ageing CANDU fleet, and at around $40,000 a gram, it's hardly flowing like tap water. Future reactors promise to breed their own tritium by bombarding lithium, but that's still theoretical. Without that breakthrough, fusion is like a car without petrol – clever but stationary.

Even if the tech works, the capital costs will be astronomical. Building a single fusion plant could run up to $9,700 per kilowatt of capacity. Solar and wind? Less than a third of that. And they’re already here, already cheap, already getting cheaper. Renewables might be intermittent, but batteries and grid management are advancing faster than fusion ever has.

So, while the boffins tinker and the headlines gush about "breakthroughs," the reality is stark. Fusion won't save us from the climate crisis. Not in time, not at scale, and certainly not at a price anyone sane would pay. It’s not the white knight – it's a money pit with better PR. If we’re serious about clean energy, we’d be doubling down on what works now, not punting our hopes on a technology that’s always just out of reach.

The Death of British Populism?

Trump's return to the White House is the political equivalent of a wrecking ball swinging wildly through the right-wing populist playground. His victory, far from emboldening Nigel Farage and his merry band of Reformists, spells disaster for their long-term ambitions. Why? Because Farage has spent years mimicking Trump’s playbook without the weight of American power behind him. Now that the real thing is back, Farage looks less like a revolutionary and more like a cheap tribute act wheezing through the encore.

Trump's isolationist "America First" stance undermines Farage’s entire pitch. Farage sells himself as the champion of a strong, sovereign Britain standing tall on the world stage. But if Trump guts NATO, cosies up to Putin, and throws Europe under the bus, Britain won't be standing tall. It’ll be standing alone, friendless and exposed. Farage might cheer from the sidelines, but the British public, already weary from Brexit's broken promises, will see through the charade. Sovereignty means little when you're left out in the cold, watching the global economy shift without a seat at the table.

And then there’s Boris Johnson, lurking in the wings like an actor who’s forgotten his lines. Trump’s rise pushes Johnson further into irrelevance. His tired act, once buoyed by bluster and opportunism, now looks painfully outdated. The British right can only accommodate so many populist figureheads, and with Trump casting his shadow across the Atlantic, Johnson is surplus to requirements. He’ll be left scribbling newspaper columns and reminiscing about the good old days when he could bluff his way through interviews without anyone noticing the lack of substance.

The irony is even richer when you consider Johnson's stance on Ukraine. Once an ardent supporter, flaunting his solidarity with Zelensky, Johnson now bends to Trump's disdain for Ukraine. Principles discarded, relevance chased – a pitiful sight.

Trump's return comes at an opportune moment, with Labour only half a year into its administration. The damage Trump's populism will wreak worldwide, and in America specifically, will serve as a stark warning to the British electorate, much as once Hitler's aims became clear, the fascination with fascism in Britain was dead. With Labour still shaping its narrative, the contrast between Trump's chaos and Starmer's steadiness will only reinforce Labour (or possibly the LibDems) as the stable alternative, further consolidating its position ahead of the next election. As the consequences unfold across the Atlantic, voters in the UK will see exactly where Farage's and Johnson's brand of opportunistic populism leads – chaos, division, and decline.

In the end, Trump's return is a death knell for British populism, not a lifeline. Farage will find himself tethered to an American agenda that hurts Britain, while Johnson fades further into irrelevance. The irony is delicious. The two men who spent years hitching their wagons to the populist star will now be burned by its return. And they’ll have no one to blame but themselves.

The Great Old Sodbury Fudge Disaster

I fancied some fudge. It seemed simple enough. Sugar, butter, and condensed milk in a pan, a bit of stirring, and you’re off. How hard could it be? Harder than it looks, as it turns out. What I ended up with was less “melt-in-the-mouth indulgence” and more “runny disappointment in a tin.” A sort of sugary soup. Tasty, yes, but about as sliceable as custard.

Letting runny fudge sit won’t fix it. Water doesn’t just politely evaporate from a pan of cooling fudge. It lingers, keeping the sugar concentration too low for setting. If it didn’t hit the right temperature the first time, it never will without a return trip to the hob. You can’t fudge fudge.

Undeterred, I consulted the internet. The smug consensus? I’d failed to hit the magic number: 115 degrees Celsius. Fudge-making, it turns out, is less about intuition and more about precision – sugar concentration, water evaporation, soft ball stage. It read like GCSE chemistry, but with more chance of heart disease. The lesson was clear. I needed a sugar thermometer.

Amazon obliged. Next day, armed with my shiny new instrument of confectionery righteousness, I scraped my failed fudge back into the pan. I’d like to say my troubles ended there, but no. Foolishly, I’d lined the tin with greaseproof paper, blissfully unaware that “greaseproof” doesn’t mean non-stick. When hot sugar meets greaseproof paper, it bonds like concrete. Peeling it off the cooled fudge was like trying to undress a Velcroed toddler. Baking parchment, by contrast, is coated with silicone, meaning the fudge lifts out cleanly. Why greaseproof paper still exists for home use is anyone’s guess. It’s about as fit for purpose as a chocolate teapot.

This time, I watched the thermometer like a hawk, stirring as the numbers climbed. Ninety. Ninety-five. A hundred. The mixture bubbled and thickened, but nothing revolutionary seemed to be happening. It wasn’t until I hit 115 that I realised the point. It’s not magic. It’s maths.

At 115°C, the sugar solution hits around 85% sugar and 15% water. That’s the Goldilocks zone – just enough moisture left to keep the fudge creamy, but not so much that it stays liquid. Anything less and you’re still in syrup territory. Anything more and you’re heading into brittle toffee land. The temperature itself isn’t the goal. It’s just a proxy for sugar concentration, because once the water boils off, the syrup heats faster. No structural alchemy, no caramelisation, no Maillard reaction. Just evaporation until the sugar takes charge.

Silicone baking trays seemed like a clever alternative, but they’re more trouble than they’re worth for fudge. The flexible ones, at least. When you try to cut the set slab, they bend and buckle, leaving you with ragged, uneven chunks instead of neat squares. They’re fine for muffins, but fudge needs structure. I’d used one of those silicone moulds designed for six small cakes, and that worked well enough. Each cavity held its shape, and the fudge popped out cleanly. Still, nothing beats a rigid tin lined with proper parchment if you want clean, satisfying slices.

Even with the right temperature, the job wasn’t done. Once I hit 115 and took the pan off the heat, I had to let it cool – not until it “felt about right,” but down to 43°C, the sweet spot for beating. Stirring too soon makes the sugar crystals form too quickly, giving you gritty fudge. Leave it too late and the mixture thickens like concrete before you get it into the tin. I waited, thermometer in hand, until the mercury dipped to 43, then beat the living daylights out of it. That’s when it thickened, lost its glossy sheen, and started looking like sand rather than a sticky mistake.

My real mistake was reheating Day 1’s attempt. There was precious little left, and heating it resulted in a slight charring of the bottom. Not disastrous, but it was rather grainy and left an aftertaste somewhat redolent of burnt tyres. I'd invented a new flavour. I should have started fresh.

Which I did, a few days later. This time, I applied the heat sparingly. It’s not the intensity that brings it to 115 – it’s the water fraction reducing. Slow heating over 20 minutes or so does the job without burning the sugar.

When it comes to beating, don’t, whatever you do, use a whisk unless it’s very open, or you'll end up with a ball of immovable fudge in the middle of the whisk. I made the mistake of beating too soon again and the result was admittedly a bit grainy. As it was cooling, I thought that it would too solid to beat at 43 degrees and did it around 60 degrees.

Pan choice matters, too. If you’re using a large pan, the thermometer registers the heat at the bottom. For a single can of condensed milk, a deep, narrow pan works best, so the thermometer’s business end sits halfway up the side. Alternatively, if you’re set on a wide pan, double or triple the batch.

When pressing the fudge into a mould, use a silicone spatula. The fudge will stick to anything else like glue.

So, if you’re thinking of making fudge and reckon you can wing it, don’t bother. Get a thermometer. Boil the mixture slowly and don’t be tempted to boil the arse out of it. Avoid wide pans unless you’re doubling up. Use parchment, cool to 43 before beating (not with a whisk), and steer clear of anything labelled “non-stick” unless it’s been tested under battle conditions and made of silicone. Fudge doesn’t care how confident you feel. It only cares about the numbers.

Here's the final result – a tad dark, as I'd used muscovado sugar.

It certainly held its shape and was much smoother than the previous batch. Not perfect, but I'm getting there.

Next time I make any I will invest in a marble slab and knead the fudge, rather than beating it. Kneading at 43°C often yields superior results – smoother, less grainy, and more consistent. It’s easier to judge when the texture is just right, compared to the more aggressive approach of beating with a spoon. If you’re after indulgent, creamy fudge rather than crumbly tablet-style squares, kneading wins hands down, apparently. There is (or was) a shop in Bath where the stuff was kneaded in the shop window. Bath Fudge - with added Bath water for that authentic, slightly Roman flavour. 

Just as an aside, regional fudge is only designated as such because it uses local cream and butter. Most mass-produced fudge uses butter from anywhere, and the condensed milk almost certainly isn’t local. Read the label. Even then, the amount of cream and butter is tiny compared to the sugar and condensed milk. It should really be called West Indian fudge, regardless of where it’s made.

A Cloud of Convenience to Trap the Gullible

The government has bullied Apple into switching off its Advanced Data Protection (ADP) in the UK, and the usual privacy advocates are up in arms. Apparently, without end-to-end encryption for iCloud backups, we’re all doomed to surveillance and data breaches. Well, only if you’re daft enough to store sensitive personal data in the cloud in the first place.

The cloud has always been a convenience trap. Slick marketing convinced people that uploading everything from passport scans to intimate photos was somehow progress. It’s progress, all right. Progress toward making your private life someone else’s business. Store it on iCloud, and you might as well leave your front door unlocked with a neon sign saying "Help yourself".

Local storage, on the other hand, is like keeping your valuables in a safe at home. Encrypted drives. Password-protected folders. Physical backups tucked away where no government mandate or corporate policy change can reach them. If your data is local, it’s yours. If it’s in the cloud, it’s on loan until someone decides otherwise.

The fuss about Apple being strong-armed into weakening encryption only matters if you’ve bought into the idea that convenience beats control. It doesn’t. Storing critical data locally isn’t just inherently more secure. It’s common sense.

The real irony here? The same people outraged by the ADP shutdown are the ones who happily ask Alexa to add toilet roll to their shopping list while their phones upload every photo they take to a server they’ll never see. Privacy isn’t lost because of government overreach. It’s lost when people trade control for convenience and act surprised when someone exploits the trade.

Want to keep your data private? Stop feeding the cloud and take back control. It's not difficult. It just requires the tiniest bit of effort. If that's too much, you’re not really worried about privacy. You’re just addicted to convenience and looking for someone else to blame.