Putin's Employee of the Month

I'm on a roll at present - 2 posts a day - but there's such a lot of news lately.

Trump being an apologist for Putin isn’t just an observation anymore – it’s practically a job description. If Putin had an employee of the month programme, Trump's photo would be permanently nailed to the wall, gold frame and all. It’s almost touching how he bends over backwards – and occasionally sideways – to defend Vlad’s every move, as if the Kremlin sends him a “What to Say Today” memo with his morning Diet Coke.

The idea that Trump isn't a Russian asset requires the kind of mental gymnastics that'd make an Olympic coach weep. He praises Putin with the enthusiasm of a teenager complimenting their crush, while casually undermining NATO, the EU, and anyone else who’s ever side-eyed Mother Russia. It’s less “America First” and more “Russia? After You, Sir.”

The day before yesterday Trump maintained  Zelensky only had a 4% popularity rating, which is straight from the Kremlin. It's actually way over 50%. Obviously he's supporting Putin in pressing for a new election in Ukraine where he can manipulate the vote.

It would seem Trump parrots whatever the last person who spoke to him says. We have physical proof of that mental incapacity now. Not only that, but his drones fall into line and slavishly mirror him while scratching their heads and wondering how they'll manage the inevitable onslaught.

My honest opinion? Trump is deliberately goading Zelensky, hoping he'll bite and say something derogatory, giving Trump the perfect excuse to turn around and say, "Well, fuck you," before strutting off in a self-righteous huff. A lot of Americans have nailed their colours to Trump's mast, and I'd wager many are quietly regretting it. But they're stuck – once you've pledged loyalty to a loose cannon, you’re obliged to defend him, no matter how absurd the rabbit-hole he drags you down.

As for the 2024 Presidential election, Putin didn’t just interfere – he practically hosted the event. If democracy was a house party, the Russians weren’t just sneaking in through the back door – they were the DJ, the caterer, and the ones picking the playlist. The statistical improbability of that many Americans voluntarily voting for someone who speaks like he's lost an argument with his own brain is staggering. Either Putin’s hackers were very busy, or America had an unprecedented outbreak of mass concussion.

But here’s the real beauty of it: I don’t need a shred of proof for the election rigging claim. None at all. Trump showed us the way. Evidence? Who needs it when bluster and blind conviction will do? He spent years screaming about election fraud without a single fact to back it up – and millions believed him. By his own logic, if I say Putin put Trump in the White House, then it must be true. After all, if you shout nonsense confidently enough, it magically becomes reality – at least in MAGA-land.

I wonder how long it will be before the MAGAs start sacrificing to their God (not that they have one) women who have had an abortion, or unmarried mothers, regardless of their religion.

NATO Replacement

So, the big question. With NATO increasingly strained by political infighting and the looming possibility of American disengagement, what happens if the USA throws its toys out of the pram and leaves NATO? If America storms off from NATO, should Europe crack on and form a new alliance with Ukraine? In short – yes. In fact, it’d be madness not to.

Ukraine isn’t just a plucky underdog. It’s now one of the most battle-hardened militaries in the world. They’ve spent years fighting a proper war against Russia, not just playing war games. They know how to counter drones, jam signals, and hold trenches under constant shelling. That’s more than most NATO countries can claim, achieved with a mishmash of Western kit, Soviet leftovers, and sheer ingenuity. Who else in Europe has that kind of experience?

Let’s face it. If the US pulls out, Europe can't rely on the fantasy that Russia will suddenly play nice. Putin would see an open goal for territorial expansion and political destabilisation. The Baltics would start sweating, Poland would be loading the guns, and Germany would be tutting about "diplomatic solutions" while doing nothing useful. But plug Ukraine into a European-led alliance and the whole picture changes.

Ukraine's geography alone is a strategic goldmine. It pushes the defensive line hundreds of miles east, turning Poland and Romania from frontline states into logistical hubs. Russia would have to think twice before stirring trouble, knowing they'd face experienced Ukrainian troops backed by European firepower. And it’s not like Europe is defenceless without the Yanks. Between the UK, France, Germany, and the Nordics, there’s enough military clout to hold the line – if they actually get their act together.

Of course, the usual hand-wringers will moan about the cost. Defence budgets would need to rise, yes, but what’s the alternative? Sitting around, hoping Russia stops at Ukraine? We’ve seen how that story goes. And economically, investing in European defence industries, especially alongside Ukraine’s rapidly expanding military production, would create jobs and drive technological advances.

The real gap is nuclear deterrence. Without the USA's arsenal, it's down to the UK and France, whose nuclear stockpiles are significantly smaller and lack the global reach of American systems. The US maintains a triad of land-based missiles, strategic bombers, and submarine-launched warheads, while the UK and France primarily rely on their submarine fleets. This makes their deterrent credible but far less imposing, especially when facing a Russia that's still heavily armed and more than willing to rattle its nuclear sabre. And even the UK's Trident system, often touted as an independent deterrent, is heavily reliant on American technology, targeting systems, and maintenance. Without continued US cooperation, its effectiveness would be seriously compromised. Still, pair that with a strong conventional force and you’ve got a credible deterrent. Russia isn't stupid. It picks fights it thinks it can win, not ones that guarantee a bloody nose.

Then there's the Trump factor. If he’s back in the White House and playing silly buggers with NATO, Europe’s going to feel the strain. The gaps would show up in logistics, intelligence sharing, and rapid response capabilities – all areas where the US currently leads. Plugging those gaps means Europe stepping up with better satellite coverage, joint command structures, and more airlift capacity. The EU’s Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO) could form the backbone, but only with serious funding and political will. And let’s be honest – Trump’s America already seems to be drifting towards client-state status, like a Russian oblast in waiting. If that’s the direction the US is heading, Europe can’t afford to wait around hoping for a change of heart.

And let’s not pretend Russia wouldn’t kick up a fuss. Putin would scream about "provocation" while his trolls flood the internet with doom-mongering. But he’d also know that facing Ukraine plus Europe is a far riskier gamble than just Ukraine alone. Better for him to stick to destabilising Africa and bribing Western politicians than risk another debacle like his stalled invasion.

In the end, a new alliance wouldn’t just be about defending Ukraine. It’d be about Europe finally growing up and looking after itself, rather than hiding behind American coattails. If the US does leave NATO, the choice is stark – build something new and strong with Ukraine at its heart, or sit back and watch Russia carve up the continent piece by piece.

Europe must decide whether it wants to be a player or just the pitch.

Change of Mind

I've changed my mind. And what's the point of having a mind if you can't change it? 

After reappraising the situation, it's clear that while the proposed changes to inheritance tax may have been introduced with the intention of addressing wealth inequality and preventing land from being indefinitely locked up in family estates, the unintended consequences could be disastrous for independent farmers.

No Farmers, No Food. Sounds obvious, doesn’t it? Like saying “No Oxygen, No Breathing.” And yet, the reality is that without careful consideration, these tax reforms could accelerate the death of independent farming while handing the spoils to corporate agribusiness. The government argues that scrapping Agricultural Property Relief (APR) from inheritance tax is intended to prevent land from being indefinitely locked within family estates and to ensure a fairer tax system. However, the reality is far more complex, and the unintended consequences could be severe. If you thought food prices were bad now, wait until there’s no one left but monopolistic land barons squeezing every last ounce of profit from the soil.

Let’s be clear: farming is not some cushy hedge fund where the money rolls in while you sip Bollinger on a yacht. Land is a farmer’s primary asset – not a luxury. Take away APR, and when a small farmer dies, their family will be slapped with a tax bill so big they’ll have no choice but to sell up. And guess who’ll be lining up to buy? The highest bidder, which won’t be a fresh-faced young farmer looking to keep the land productive – it’ll be agribusiness, investors, or corporate landlords who view the countryside as a tax-efficient asset rather than a place where food is actually grown.

And the irony? This policy isn’t even going to hurt the ones it’s supposedly aimed at. The big landowners – the ones who don’t actually farm but lease their vast estates – will dodge the worst of it. They’ve got lawyers, offshore trusts, and accountants who specialise in making tax bills evaporate. Meanwhile, the family who’s worked the land for generations will be forced to sell their legacy just to satisfy HMRC.

This isn’t just about farmers losing their land – it’s about food security. When independent farmers are forced out, food production becomes concentrated in fewer hands, making the system more vulnerable to economic shocks, price manipulation, and supply chain failures. When farming becomes the sole domain of corporate giants, expect food quality to nosedive while prices climb ever higher. Small farms tend to be more diverse, more sustainable, and more resilient. Big agribusiness? It’s monocultures, soil depletion, and a level of efficiency that works beautifully – right up until it doesn’t. When the next global crisis hits, and our food supply chains collapse because we’ve wiped out the very people who kept it going, don’t say we weren’t warned.

This is exactly what happened in retail. Independent grocers, butchers, and bakers were once the backbone of British high streets, offering local produce, personal service, and a connection to the communities they served. Then came the supermarkets. By undercutting small businesses with economies of scale, squeezing suppliers to the bone, and homogenising food supply, the supermarket giants wiped out the competition. Now, with only a handful of players controlling the retail food market, we’re left with rising prices, reduced choice, and a system that prioritises shareholder profits over consumer welfare. The same fate now looms over farming – corporate consolidation will push independent farmers out, leaving the public at the mercy of a few agribusinesses that care more about bottom lines than food quality or sustainability.

And here’s another twist: the assumption that land prices will fall when small farmers are forced to sell is, I believe, completely wrong. In reality, land prices will rise as agribusinesses and wealthy investors compete to buy up the newly available farmland. When independent farmers leave the industry, the land doesn’t become more affordable for new entrants – it gets hoarded by the highest bidders, making it even harder for anyone but the mega-rich to start farming. The land market becomes just another rigged game, where control is concentrated in fewer hands, pushing the cost of entry ever higher.

It’s also worth noting that a lot of farmers will not be affected by these inheritance tax changes. However, many small and medium-sized farms may still be at risk, particularly those whose land value is just above the threshold and who lack the financial tools to mitigate the tax burden. While the policy is designed to spare most smaller farms, it does little to protect those caught in the middle – too large to be exempt but too small to absorb the costs without selling off land or assets. The belief is that the tax threshold will be up to a total value of around £3 million, meaning many smaller farms will still be exempt. Furthermore, those with substantial estates can make use of gifting strategies and trusts to completely avoid the tax. In other words, those with the resources to navigate the system will continue to do so, while ordinary working farmers bear the brunt of the changes.

The Farmers’ Union, a powerful lobbying organisation, has doubtless aggregated figures over a number of years rather than purely looking at annual data. This means their projections on how many farms will be affected likely paint a broader picture than the government’s estimates, which focus on yearly figures. While the government claims only a fraction of estates will be hit, the long-term impact of these changes could be far greater than officials admit.

Instead of scrapping APR wholesale, the government should be targeting the non-farmers who hoard land like Monopoly money while doing bugger all with it. A ‘working farmer’ test would be a good start – keep the relief for those who actually farm the land and scrap it for those who treat the countryside as a tax-free piggy bank. Or how about a tiered system, where small farms keep APR, mid-sized farms get a tapered rate, and only the sprawling, hedge fund-owned estates cop the full 40% hit?

Of course, that would require politicians with enough spine to stand up to the landed elite and agribusiness lobbyists, and we all know how likely that is. But if the government is serious about food security, rural jobs, and preventing yet another industry from being monopolised by the wealthiest 0.1%, then it needs to rethink this disaster-in-waiting.

Because if we carry on like this, No Farmers, No Food won’t be a warning – it’ll be a bloody obituary.

Gender Neutral Bogs

Funny old world, isn’t it? The very people who claim to stand against rigid, conservative values in one breath are enforcing them in the next. One minute, the anti-Muslim brigade are frothing at the mouth about the supposed Islamic takeover of Europe, and the next, they’re the most vocal defenders of gender-segregated toilets – which, let’s be honest, is about as conservative and modesty-obsessed as it gets. You’d almost think they were, well… being a bit Muslim about it all. But self-awareness has never been their strong suit, has it?

Now, let’s get one thing straight: separate bogs for men and women weren’t always the norm. The Romans weren’t fussed – public latrines were shared, with no partitions, and modesty was an afterthought. Medieval folk had bigger worries, like not dying of dysentery. It wasn’t until the 18th and 19th centuries, when industrialisation meant women were out in public more, that the moral crusaders stepped in and decided that a bit of porcelain partitioning was necessary. The Victorians, being Victorians, made it law – and before you knew it, gendered toilets were as entrenched as bad weather and class snobbery.

Fast forward to today, and we’re seeing a shift – especially in more secular and progressive countries, where studies show that well-designed gender-neutral toilets improve accessibility and reduce wait times. The Nordics, Germany, the Netherlands – all quite happily adding gender-neutral facilities to the mix. Even in the UK, universities and government buildings are catching on. But in the more religious corners of Europe – particularly Catholic strongholds like Poland, Hungary, Italy, and parts of the Balkans – there’s been a predictable backlash. Because, of course, the notion that someone might choose where to pee based on convenience rather than outdated social constructs is deeply distressing to those who see the world in black and white - and everything being a sin.

And that brings us to the delicious irony of it all: the very people who howl about the supposed rise of Islamic fundamentalism are now clutching their pearls at the idea of unisex toilets – exactly the sort of gender-segregation fervour they claim to oppose. If you close your eyes, you’d be hard-pressed to tell whether you’re listening to a right-wing culture warrior, a staunch Catholic traditionalist, or a deeply conservative Muslim cleric, both railing against the supposed collapse of decency. railing against the corrupting influence of modernity. Think of the children! they cry. Think of the women! they wail – just with slightly different headgear.

But the reality is that gender-neutral toilets are neither the death of civilisation nor a Marxist plot to destroy the family. They’re just another step in a long history of public conveniences evolving to match how society actually functions. If you’re worried about safety, lock the cubicle door. If you’re concerned about privacy, make sure the design isn’t shoddy. And if you’re getting all worked up about who’s standing next to you at the urinal – well, that might be your problem to unpack, not society’s.

There’s an unspoken rule in British gents’ toilets – a sacred covenant of personal space that dictates you must always leave at least one empty urinal between yourself and the next bloke. No exceptions, unless the place is packed and you're left with no choice, at which point both parties must engage in a complex social dance of staring intently at the wall and pretending the other doesn’t exist. Head over to the Continent, however, and this rule dissolves like a sugar cube in a strong espresso. In France, Germany, or Spain, you'll often find blokes happily standing shoulder to shoulder, carrying on conversations as if they were at the bar rather than engaged in the delicate business of relieving themselves. It’s a cultural divide as stark as our approach to queuing – the British way is to maintain polite distance, while Europeans seem to take a more pragmatic, less self-conscious approach.

Meanwhile, the rest of Europe will carry on being its usual mixed bag – Germany and the Nordics leading the charge, Poland and Hungary pulling in the opposite direction, and Britain, as ever, caught between nostalgia and reluctant progress. – some countries forging ahead with unisex facilities, others digging in their heels, and Britain, as ever, awkwardly dithering somewhere in the middle. But next time you hear some culture warrior ranting about the sanctity of men’s and women’s toilets, just remind them they’re sounding a little… how shall we put it? Halal and Woke - simultaneously. 

A New Study

A Speculative Study on the Evolutionary Divergence of Homo Brexitus, Homo Remainensis, Homo MAGAensis, and Homo Faragis.

Author: Prof. W. Chairman-Bill, Distinguished Scholar of Cultural Divergence

Abstract

The recent schisms in socio-political landscapes across the United Kingdom and the United States have led to a fascinating evolutionary split within Homo sapiens. This study postulates the emergence of four subspecies: Homo Brexitus, characterised by insular cognition, a heightened aversion to external influence, and a preference for ideological inbreeding; Homo Remainensis, marked by adaptability, intellectual openness, and an increased reliance on cooperative networks; Homo MAGAensis, a North American counterpart to H. Brexitus, distinguished by a hyper-nationalistic worldview, conspiratorial thinking, and a preference for authoritarian leadership; and Homo Faragis, an offshoot of H. Brexitus displaying an intensified distrust of supranational institutions, a heightened susceptibility to populist rhetoric, and a fascination with performative patriotism. While all four subspecies can currently interbreed, increasing cultural and cognitive divergence suggests an eventual reproductive incompatibility. Furthermore, H. Remainensis exhibits a strong aversion to interbreeding with the other subspecies, citing fundamental epistemological and cognitive incompatibilities. This paper explores the evolutionary pressures driving this divergence and its implications for the future of human speciation.

Introduction

Speciation within Homo sapiens is traditionally hindered by high mobility, interconnectivity, and genetic exchange. However, rapid cultural evolution can exert significant selective pressures, potentially driving cognitive and behavioural divergence. This study examines the theoretical emergence of Homo Brexitus, Homo Remainensis, Homo MAGAensis, and Homo Faragis as distinct evolutionary pathways, shaped by opposing responses to globalisation, empirical reasoning, and cultural permeability.

Methodology

Analysis was conducted through longitudinal observations of political discourse, voting patterns, cognitive adaptability in response to new information, and social media interactions. Indicators included linguistic regression, susceptibility to misinformation, and environmental adaptability. Social media analysis focused on echo chamber formation, algorithmic reinforcement of biases, patterns of engagement with disinformation, and a predisposition for dismissive and expletive-laden rebuttals when confronted with opposing views. Genetic predisposition for tribalism and risk-aversion was cross-referenced with sociological studies on echo-chamber entrenchment and the rejection of empirical data.

Results

Homo Brexitus: Insular Adaptation

This subspecies displays a reduced capacity for absorbing new information that conflicts with pre-established beliefs. Cognitive heuristics prioritise nostalgia, fear-based reasoning, and resistance to cooperative problem-solving on an international scale. Over time, H. Brexitus has developed a reliance on echo chambers, wherein ideological homogeneity reinforces itself. Increasing detachment from empirical reality suggests an eventual decline in cognitive plasticity, potentially leading to a form of socio-cognitive speciation. Some subsets exhibit a latent propensity for feudalistic social structures, favouring rigid hierarchies and hereditary privilege as a means of maintaining stability. This is reinforced by right-wing media, to which it is particularly susceptible, encouraging this subspecies to support policies that disproportionately benefit elites while undermining their own economic and social stability.

Homo Remainensis: Evolutionary Fluidity

Conversely, H. Remainensis exhibits traits consistent with evolutionary resilience: increased tolerance for ambiguity, heightened receptivity to novel information, critical thinking, and a propensity for cooperative interdependence. The ability to adapt and integrate within broader systems has enabled this subspecies to maintain intellectual agility. This trajectory suggests a long-term advantage in technological and cultural evolution, reinforcing their dominance in high-complexity environments. Moreover, H. Remainensis has demonstrated a pronounced reluctance to interbreed with H. Brexitus, H. MAGAensis, and H. Faragis, citing deep-seated cognitive and ideological incongruities.

Homo MAGAensis: The Hyper-Nationalist Variant

Distinct from H. Brexitus yet following a parallel trajectory, H. MAGAensis has emerged primarily within the United States. This subspecies is defined by an aggressive rejection of empirical data, heightened susceptibility to conspiracy theories, and a deep-seated belief in national exceptionalism. Selective pressures have reinforced an increasing reliance on authoritarianism and dogmatic thinking. Similar to H. Brexitus, H. MAGAensis faces the risk of intellectual stagnation and reproductive insularity due to ideological entrenchment and epistemic closure. Some subgroups of H. MAGAensis display a marked preference for feudalistic power structures, aligning with figures who promise to reinstate traditional hierarchies. Additionally, this subspecies exhibits a predisposition to insurrection, often viewing violent resistance as a legitimate means of reclaiming perceived lost status and influence.

Homo Faragis: The Populist Nationalist Subspecies

A distinct offshoot of H. Brexitus, H. Faragis shares its aversion to supranational governance but with an intensified inclination towards performative nationalism, rhetorical manipulation, and hostility towards perceived elites. Curiously, its leader is one of those very elites, leveraging populist sentiment to consolidate personal privilege and influence while diverting attention from systemic inequalities. This subspecies thrives in environments where populist figures amplify fears of external control, leveraging simplistic narratives to rally group cohesion. H. Faragis exhibits a unique social dynamic wherein distrust of institutions coexists with an unwavering loyalty to strongman political figures. Additionally, H. Faragis demonstrates a notable tendency towards feudalistic social models, where authority is concentrated in charismatic leaders and hierarchical loyalty structures replace democratic engagement.

Discussion

The primary driver of divergence appears to be epistemic self-isolation within H. Brexitus, H. MAGAensis, and H. Faragis, facilitated by digital echo chambers and social selection mechanisms that punish dissent. While all four subspecies currently share a common gene pool, it is hypothesised that continued isolation will lead to this divergence is not genetic but epistemological, as their cognitive frameworks become increasingly incompatible, making interbreeding socially, rather than biologically, unviable. Cognitive dissonance between the groups already results in significant barriers to communication, suggesting a near-future scenario in which mating becomes socially, rather than biologically, nonviable.

Conclusion

The emergence of Homo Brexitus, Homo Remainensis, Homo MAGAensis, and Homo Faragis as distinct evolutionary trajectories is a cautionary case study in the role of cultural evolution in shaping cognitive capacities. While H. Remainensis is likely to persist and integrate within global networks, H. Brexitus, H. MAGAensis, and H. Faragis face the risk of self-imposed extinction through intellectual stagnation and reproductive insularity. Unlike H. Brexitus, which exhibits a general aversion to external influence, H. Faragis presents a more volatile dynamic, balancing between populist fervour and reactionary tendencies. Its reliance on charismatic leadership and anti-elite sentiment suggests a potential for episodic resurgence, though long-term sustainability remains uncertain.

Further research is required to determine whether external intervention - such as exposure therapy involving factual reality - can mitigate the risk of complete epistemic divergence or whether these subspecies will continue along separate evolutionary paths, ultimately rendering meaningful cross-group interaction impossible.

References

Darwin, C. (1859). On the Origin of Subspecies: A Study in Political Selection. London: Satirical Press.

Orwell, G. (1949). Doublespeak and Divergence: The Politics of Cognitive Stagnation. Ministry of Truth Publications.

Johnson, B. (2020). Have Your Cake and Eat It: A Treatise on Post-Truth Survival. Bluffers Press.

Farage, N. (2016). How to Be an Elite While Pretending Not to Be. Hypocrisy Publishing.

Trump, D. (2021). The Best Words: A Lexicon of Alternative Facts. Covfefe House.

McTwitterson, J. (2023). Echo Chambers and Expletives: The Digital Decline of Discourse. Algorithmic Bias Research Institute.

Von Clownstick, D. (2024). How to Build a Wall and Lose Friends: Isolationism in the 21st Century. MAGA Press.

Keywords: Speciation, cognitive divergence, echo chambers, evolutionary psychology, cultural selection, populism, ideological entrenchment, authoritarianism, nationalism, misinformation, cognitive bias, political psychology, social stratification, media manipulation, collective delusion, conspiracy theories, democratic erosion, epistemic closure, political tribalism, evolutionary anthropology.

We're All Descendants of Edward III

I hear a clip from a radio programme on statistics where it was confirmed that all ethnic English people can trace their ancestry directly to Edward III. 

If there’s one thing genealogy teaches us, it’s that the longer you go back in time, the more likely it is that everyone’s family tree starts looking more like a tangled web than a majestic oak. That’s why you can make statements like “every ethnic English person is descended from Edward III” and not be laughed out of the pub – a phenomenon called pedigree collapse ensures that noble blood gets around more than you’d think. But what about Jesus and his supposed connection to King David? Let’s have a closer look.

In the Bible, there are two distinct genealogies given for Jesus, each tracing his lineage back to David. One is found in the Gospel of Matthew, and the other in Luke. At first glance, these genealogies look about as similar as chalk and cheese, but they’re both meant to anchor Jesus’ credentials as the long-awaited Messiah – a descendant of King David. However, over the centuries, these two genealogies have also been a source of scepticism, even mockery, for their apparent contradictions.

Matthew’s account (1:1-16) is more straightforward and selective. It traces Jesus’ lineage through Joseph, his legal (though not biological) father, via David’s son Solomon. It’s organised neatly into three sets of 14 generations, emphasising Jesus’ connection to the royal line of Judah. Matthew is keen to show Jesus as the fulfilment of Jewish prophecy, so he’s crafted his genealogy with symbolism in mind, possibly omitting a few generations to make the numbers work.

Luke, on the other hand, takes a different route (3:23-38). His genealogy also runs through Joseph but instead traces the line via David’s son Nathan, a lesser-known branch of the family tree. Luke’s version goes backwards all the way to Adam, which fits his broader aim of presenting Jesus as a universal saviour, not just a Jewish Messiah.

So why the two lineages, and why the differences? Well, one explanation is that Matthew is tracing Joseph’s legal ancestry, while Luke is tracing Mary’s biological ancestry. In Jewish tradition, legal lineage was often more significant than biological lineage, so both genealogies could be seen as valid ways to link Jesus to David. Another theory is that one of the genealogies reflects a levirate marriage, where a man would marry his brother’s widow to provide offspring in the deceased’s name, thus creating a sort of dual paternity situation.

Critics have long used the discrepancies between these genealogies to challenge their credibility, arguing that the inconsistencies undermine the claim of a Davidic connection. After all, if one genealogy runs through Solomon and the other through Nathan, can both really be true? It’s the sort of thing that’s been gleefully pounced on by sceptics looking to poke holes in the narrative.

Now, let’s zoom out a bit. Could every Jew of Jesus’ time claim descent from King David? It’s not as far-fetched as it might sound. Given David’s many children and the small, relatively isolated population of ancient Judea, it’s entirely possible that Davidic ancestry had spread widely over the intervening centuries. Pedigree collapse – where ancestral lines merge due to intermarriage within a limited population – would ensure that many people carried at least a trace of David’s DNA, even if they couldn’t prove it at family gatherings.

Consider the timescales involved. Edward III lived in the 14th century, just over 600 years ago, while King David is traditionally placed around 1000 BCE – roughly 1,000 years before Jesus. The time between Edward III and today has seen significantly more documented genealogical blending, yet the principle remains the same. Over a millennium, David’s bloodline could have easily become pervasive in a population as small as ancient Judea’s, just as Edward III’s descendants have multiplied across England and beyond.

In the end, the Biblical genealogies of Jesus are less about tracing an unbroken biological line and more about affirming theological 'truths'. They rationalise the connection to King David, whether through legal adoption, biological descent, or symbolic representation. And if King David’s blood really did run through more than half the population of Judea by then, well, that’s just pedigree collapse doing its thing again. After all, family trees are a lot messier than scripture makes them look.

Trust in Newspapers

Once upon a time, newspapers were the beating heart of democracy. They reported the goings-on of Westminster with vigour, unearthing corruption and holding the mighty to account. They brought distant conflicts into the parlours of Britain’s working class and gave the common man a voice against the pomp and bluster of those who fancied themselves born to rule. The press was trusted, and with good reason. Its owners were often philanthropists – men who believed in the public’s right to know and, crucially, in the sanctity of truth.

 

Fast forward to today, and that trust has eroded faster than a limestone cliff battered by winter storms. What changed? The problem is twofold – the motives of those at the helm and the collateral damage inflicted on reputable outlets by the rogues in the trade.

In days gone by, proprietors like C. P. Scott of The Manchester Guardian upheld principles that transcended profit. "Comment is free, but facts are sacred," he famously proclaimed. But sacred facts are inconvenient for those who would rather twist the narrative to suit their agenda. The modern press baron isn’t interested in safeguarding democracy. He's (and it's always he) in it for power – and power has a voracious appetite for misinformation. The likes of Rupert Murdoch didn’t rise to prominence because they cared about public enlightenment. No, they saw newspapers as a means to an end – a tool to influence elections, sway public opinion, and line their own pockets with the spoils of political favour.

One glaring example is the ownership of the Daily Mail. Under the stewardship of the Rothermere family, the paper has long pushed for the abolition of inheritance tax – a policy that conveniently aligns with their personal financial interests. This stance is frequently cloaked in language about protecting ordinary families, but the reality is far more self-serving. It’s about safeguarding the wealth of Britain’s largest landowners and dynasties. The Mail also staunchly supports generous tax breaks for farmers – again, a euphemism for subsidising large landowners. By distorting the truth to fit this agenda, they turn what should be public-interest journalism into little more than a lobbying effort for the privileged elite. It’s a masterclass in how vested interests shape narratives to serve their own ends, all while pretending to champion the common man.

It’s not just a case of bias, though that’s bad enough. It’s the utter disdain for truth when it inconveniences the powerful. We now have a press that trades in sensationalism, that peddles outrage and scandal like a street vendor hawking yesterday’s fish. Headlines are crafted to provoke, not to inform. And in this frenzy to capture clicks and eyeballs, the line between opinion and fact has become so blurred that one needs a magnifying glass and a law degree to discern where journalism ends and propaganda begins.

The unfortunate side effect of this tabloidisation of news is that even the reputable sources – the few bastions of integrity that remain – suffer by association. When trust in the media crumbles, it doesn’t crumble selectively. The same public that rolls its eyes at the latest Daily Mail hyperbole begins to question the BBC, The Times, and The Guardian too. It’s the equivalent of one bad apple spoiling the whole barrel. Except, in this case, it’s a whole orchard of bad apples, and the few good ones left are struggling to avoid the rot.

The consequences of this distrust are dire. In an age of misinformation, we need credible news sources more than ever. Yet, people retreat to echo chambers, relying on social media feeds curated by algorithms that reinforce their existing beliefs. The press should be the antidote to this – the place where the public can turn for objective, fact-based reporting. But how can they, when the profession has been tarnished by those who saw newspapers not as a public service but as a private weapon?

There was a time when a journalist’s byline was a badge of honour, a symbol of accountability. Today, it’s more often a target for ridicule or, worse, abuse. And who can blame the sceptical public? When papers that once stood for truth now trade in fear and division, trust isn’t just damaged – it’s obliterated.

The path forward isn’t simple. It requires a press that re-embraces the values of its philanthropic past – a commitment to truth, a rejection of sensationalism, and a recognition that journalism is a public trust, not a personal fiefdom. But let’s be honest: it’s hard to see that happening when the media moguls pulling the strings are more concerned with wielding influence than with informing the public.

Until that shift occurs, the decline of trust in newspapers will continue. And as it does, democracy itself will suffer. For without a press that the public can believe in, we are all the poorer – and the powerful will be all the richer for it.

A possible solution lies in transparency and public ownership models. Media outlets that operate under cooperative ownership or public trusts, where journalists and readers have a stake in the organisation, could break the stranglehold of media moguls. Governments could also implement stronger regulations to ensure the separation of editorial content from corporate influence. Furthermore, a return to rigorous journalistic training, with an emphasis on ethics and accountability, could help rebuild trust. Ultimately, the public must demand better from their media – and support those outlets that prioritise truth over profit. Change will not come from the top down; it must be driven by a public unwilling to settle for anything less than a free, fair, and fearless press.

Art of the Con

Yesterday I heard one of Trump's advisors from his first administration talking about Trump's 'negotiations' with Putin on Ukraine, where he mentioned that Trump was following a strategy he outlined in his book, The Art of the Deal. I decided to investigate.

Back in the late '80s, a book hit the shelves that would change the course of history - not because it contained any great wisdom, but because enough people believed it did. The Art of the Deal was Donald Trump's first and most successful exercise in myth-making, a masterclass not in business but in self-promotion. It wasn't a business manual; it was a marketing gimmick. And like all great cons, it worked - spectacularly.

The book presents Trump as a brilliant dealmaker, the ultimate alpha negotiator who could bend the world to his will. It’s littered with tales of triumph, each one designed to reinforce the legend. But let’s set the record straight: it was all smoke and mirrors. His "deals" relied on inherited wealth, tax dodges, and political favours. His business career was a patchwork of bankruptcies, unpaid contractors, and lawsuits, but none of that made it into the book. What did make it in were pompous platitudes and half-baked business clichés - "Think big," "Maximise your options," "Protect the downside." A book stuffed full of grandiose nothings, masquerading as wisdom.

Here’s the irony: Trump didn’t even write it. That job fell to Tony Schwartz, a journalist who has since spent years publicly regretting his role in crafting the Trump myth. Schwartz has admitted that he fabricated much of Trump’s persona, piecing together something far more coherent and impressive than the erratic, attention-deficient blowhard he actually encountered. In his own words:

"I put lipstick on a pig."

But, thanks to the book’s success, the pig thought it was a prize-winning racehorse.

The so-called “business genius” spent decades peddling his self-image, conning his way into ever more disastrous ventures - Trump Airlines, Trump Casinos, Trump Vodka, Trump University, Trump Steaks, Trump Mortgage - each one a flaming wreck. None of this stopped people from swallowing the myth whole. When he ran for president, he did so on the back of this manufactured legend. Millions believed they were getting a savvy dealmaker who would “run the country like a business.” What they got was a serial failure with the temperament of a toddler and the financial acumen of a drunk gambler.

And let’s talk about those “business lessons” in the book. They’re either meaningless waffle or outright contradictory. Should you "go all in" or "keep your options open"? Should you "trust your instincts" or "know your market"? Should you "play tough" or "make friends"? No coherent strategy - just a buffet of soundbites, so you can pick whichever one fits your preferred delusion. The book’s main lesson? If you say something confidently enough, people will believe you - even if it’s bollocks.

And of course, Trump took his supposed deal-making skills to the White House, where they promptly crashed and burned. His approach to diplomacy - bullying, lying, and throwing tantrums - was a disaster. His “love letters” with Kim Jong-un led to nothing. His trade war with China backfired. His withdrawal from the Iran deal weakened U.S. influence. Even his NATO chest-thumping only alienated allies. The one thing The Art of the Deal got right? Trump is good at making a lot of noise while achieving very little.

Yet, even today, there are those who cling to the myth. They still believe he’s the shrewd, no-nonsense businessman who knows how to "get things done." In reality, he’s a bankrupt conman propped up by television and a ghostwriter. The Art of the Deal isn’t a business manual - it’s a historical artefact, a case study in the power of bluster over substance.

Schwartz himself has said that if he could rename the book, he’d call it The Sociopath. And frankly, that would be far more honest.

Political Lies - Inconvenient Truths

It’s an old complaint, wheeled out like clockwork every election – "Politicians lie! They say one thing before the vote, then do another once they’re in!" And yes, of course they do. It’s practically in the job description. But here’s the rub – if they told the unvarnished truth, none of them would get elected in the first place.

Imagine, just for a moment, a political leader standing at the podium, straight-backed, full of conviction, looking the electorate dead in the eye and saying: "Look, the economy’s a mess. Public services are hanging on by a thread. We’ll have to raise taxes to fix it, and no, not just on the billionaires – on you too. No, growth isn’t going to solve it overnight. Yes, you’ll have to tighten your belt before things get better. And no, I can’t promise it’ll all be fine in five years, because we’ve inherited decades of economic vandalism. But it’s either this, or we carry on with smoke and mirrors until the whole thing implodes." That’s the truth. But that’s also the end of their campaign, because the electorate would scatter like pigeons at a firework display.

People say they want honesty, but they don’t. What they want is comforting fictions. They want to believe that there’s a magic bullet – that ‘efficiencies’ and cutting ‘waste’ can somehow save billions without anyone noticing. That someone else, somewhere else, will foot the bill. That they can have world-class services without paying for them. That all of our economic woes are down to a handful of lazy bureaucrats or scheming foreigners rather than structural issues going back decades. And politicians, knowing this, feed them exactly what they want to hear. Because the only alternative is political oblivion.

It’s no coincidence that the most electorally successful liars tend to be those who promise the moon while conveniently ignoring gravity. Brexit was a masterclass – billions for the NHS, sovereignty on tap, trade deals raining from the sky – all utterly fictitious, but lapped up by an electorate desperate for a shortcut to utopia. Likewise, the Tories in 2019 peddled the fantasy that they could ‘level up’ the country without taxing the rich or overhauling the system. Labour, for their part, are now trapped in the same game – avoiding the ‘T’ word like it’s a live grenade, pretending they can rebuild the economy without making anyone feel the pinch. Because the moment they say the quiet part out loud – that everyone, yes everyone, will have to contribute – their poll numbers take a nosedive.

This isn’t new. History is littered with examples of leaders selling fantasy to the masses, only to leave reality to clean up the mess. Napoleon promised a glorious, revitalised France before leading his country into ruin. The Weimar Republic politicians sugar-coated Germany’s post-WWI predicament, paving the way for more radical and dishonest leaders to exploit popular discontent. Even Roosevelt, hailed as a hero, knew he had to sell the New Deal as a hopeful, grand project, glossing over the immense sacrifices required. The American Vietnam War effort was built on layers of dishonesty, from the Gulf of Tonkin incident to Nixon’s secret bombings. The pattern is eternal – lie convincingly, win power, then hope you can bend reality to match your fiction before the cracks show.

And when those cracks do show, what’s the standard move? Hope that something – anything – swoops in to save the day before their term is up. A Deus ex Machina in the form of an economic boom, a sudden technological breakthrough, or a geopolitical shift that miraculously makes all the promises seem plausible in hindsight. Failing that, they’ll kick the can down the road for the next lot to deal with, all while pleading for ‘more time’ or ‘understanding of the difficult circumstances’ – anything to delay the inevitable reckoning.

And then there’s the distinction between democratic lies and populist lies. The former is a careful balancing act – a mix of pragmatism and self-preservation, where leaders stretch the truth just enough to get through the next election cycle without torching their credibility. The latter is a reckless con job, where a leader promises absolutely everything to absolutely everyone, knowing full well they’ll never deliver a fraction of it. Democratic lies are about staying in power by managing expectations. Populist lies are about grabbing power by smashing expectations into dust and hoping nobody notices until it’s too late.

The real trick of the populists, though, is convincing people that "they’re all the same – except us." That while the traditional politicians are all self-serving liars, they alone are the voice of the people, the righteous crusaders against the corrupt establishment. It’s nonsense, of course. Populists lie just as much – if not more – than their mainstream counterparts, but they do it with a wink and a sneer, making their supporters feel like insiders on some grand, rebellious truth. They create an ‘us versus them’ narrative so potent that even when they fail – and they inevitably do – their followers blame shadowy elites, the media, or political enemies rather than admitting they were conned.

And here’s where the Deep State conspiracy theory conveniently steps in. When populists inevitably fail to deliver on their extravagant promises, they don’t own up to their deceit – they blame the ‘Deep State,’ an imaginary cabal of bureaucrats, intelligence agencies, and shadowy elites supposedly conspiring to undermine them. It’s the perfect deflection. Instead of admitting their policies were unrealistic from the start, they whip up paranoia, insisting that they were thwarted by an invisible enemy rather than their own incompetence. It’s a lie so brazen yet so effective that even after their populist heroes are caught red-handed, their followers continue to believe they were victims of a grand conspiracy.

And let’s not forget the media’s role in all this. Rather than challenging the falsehoods, sections of the press amplify them, either out of ideological alignment or sheer opportunism. Outrage sells, and a sensationalist narrative of corrupt elites versus heroic ‘truth-tellers’ is far more lucrative than a dull, sober analysis of reality. Whether it’s through relentless fear-mongering, selective reporting, or outright misinformation, media outlets play their part in perpetuating the very lies they later pretend to expose.

Of course, history offers a few cases of leaders who tried honesty and paid the price. Jimmy Carter’s infamous ‘malaise’ speech, where he told Americans they needed to curb their consumption and rethink their expectations, was met with hostility – and he lost the next election in a landslide. Voters don’t reward brutal truth; they punish it.

And the real irony? The public knows they’re being lied to, but they rationalise it. "All politicians lie, but ours lie less" or "they have to lie to get things done." It’s a self-deception as deep as the political lies themselves, ensuring the cycle continues.

So the next time someone moans about lying politicians, ask them what they’d actually do if a candidate came out and told the whole grim truth. Would they reward that honesty with their vote? Or would they scurry off to find someone peddling a more palatable fantasy? Because as long as voters prefer comforting lies to uncomfortable truths, politicians will keep lying. And we’ll keep pretending to be shocked when they do.

Trump & Ukraine

Donald Trump, self-proclaimed dealmaker extraordinaire, has decided that the best way to end the Ukraine war is to have a cosy little chat with Vladimir Putin – without inviting Ukraine to the table. Because, of course, what better way to resolve a war than by ignoring the country being invaded? It’s like planning your neighbour’s house renovation with the burglar who just broke in.

Trump insists he can “end the war in 24 hours,” a bold claim that’s never been backed up with anything resembling a plan. This could be a deliberate strategy - an extreme opening position aimed at shifting the final outcome closer to his preference. It's called 'Extreme Anchoring'. Nixon’s 'madman theory' and Johnson’s Brexit hardline stance are past examples of similar tactics. He has made similar sweeping statements before, such as his claims that he could negotiate nuclear disarmament with North Korea or force Mexico to pay for a border wall - neither of which materialized in any meaningful way. Fresh off his latest meeting with Putin, he’s pushing for peace talks – without Zelensky. The logic seems to be that if you pretend Ukraine doesn’t exist, the problem will sort itself out. But Ukraine does exist, and Zelensky has made it abundantly clear that no deal happens without his cooperation. And that cooperation hinges on one thing – security guarantees.

Ukraine isn’t about to accept a ceasefire that lets Putin regroup before trying again. Any settlement will require firm Western commitments, particularly from the U.S., to deter future aggression. But here’s the problem: Trump is the very person making Europe doubt those commitments. His entire approach – if it can be called that – revolves around bullying NATO allies into spending more on defence. By threatening to abandon Ukraine, he appears to be betting that panic will push Europe into ramping up its own military budgets. It’s blackmail diplomacy, plain and simple.

If this is a tactic to get Europe to spend more on American technology, it risks spectacular failure - the law of unintended consequences. Instead of capitulating, European nations may accelerate military collaboration and joint defence projects, reinforcing their strategic autonomy in response to Trump’s unreliability. While the EU has long struggled to coordinate its defence efforts, recent initiatives like the European Defence Fund and NATO’s Defence Innovation Accelerator (DIANA) have started shifting momentum. Trump’s unpredictability could give Europe the final push to reduce reliance on U.S. arms – a trend that has already begun, though the path to full self-sufficiency remains uncertain. 

Trump’s entire political career is a parade of self-inflicted disasters, where every bold move ends up boomeranging back to hit him in the face due to unforeseen consequences. His trade war tanked U.S. farmers, forcing a $28 billion bailout. Tearing up the Iran nuclear deal let Tehran ramp up its nuclear programme. The family separation policy was such a PR catastrophe he had to reverse it in disgrace. His border wall shutdown lasted 35 days and got him zero new funding. And then there’s January 6th, where his attempt to cling to power got him impeached twice and buried in criminal charges. He charges ahead without foresight, then acts shocked when his own actions explode in his face. If he returns, expect more of the same – just with bigger wreckage.

It's worth noting that as a rough estimate, the UK boosting its defence spending to 3% of GDP could support an 80% increase in personnel, bringing the total to 253,000 - putting it at the forefront in Europe in personnel (it currently ranks 5th).  

European NATO members, including the UK and Canada, collectively spent approximately $485 billion on defence in 2024, up from $400 billion in 2022. About 32% of this goes toward equipment, much of it sourced from American manufacturers. While a shift away from U.S. suppliers wouldn’t cripple the entire American defence industry – which has other major buyers – it would erode Washington’s leverage over NATO. Losing Europe as a captive market would weaken U.S. influence at precisely the moment it needs it most.

However, breaking free from American military dependence isn’t as simple as writing bigger cheques. European nations currently allocate around 2.02% of GDP to defence, but experts suggest a minimum of 3% is needed for genuine self-sufficiency. For comparison, Russia spends roughly 6.3% – a sharp rise from 4.1% in 2021 – with lower production costs enabling it to churn out weapons at a fraction of Western prices. That advantage, however, is diminishing. While Russia has managed to sustain its war economy by reorienting trade towards China and India, sanctions and technological shortages are straining its ability to maintain long-term production. Western economic pressure may not have broken Moscow yet, but its ability to outlast Russia’s adaptations remains the key question.

Meanwhile, Europe has an underutilised industrial base that could be repurposed for military expansion. The struggling car industry could shift to armoured vehicle production, shipbuilding could pivot towards naval vessels, and civilian aerospace firms could ramp up drone and fighter jet manufacturing. While significant investment and coordination would be required, the infrastructure and expertise already exist. Political hesitations and supply chain constraints pose challenges, but a coordinated shift could ultimately strengthen Europe’s strategic position.

As all this unfolds, Putin watches with calculated optimism, knowing that any fractures in Western unity play to his advantage. The more discord Trump sows, the better for the Kremlin. A weak, divided response from Ukraine’s allies would allow Russia to push for a "peace deal" that cements its territorial gains and leaves Ukraine vulnerable. But make no mistake – that’s not peace. That’s surrender dressed up as diplomacy.

No real settlement can be reached without Ukraine’s direct involvement. History is littered with failed agreements that excluded key stakeholders – the Oslo Accords, the Paris Peace Accords – and any attempt to impose a deal over Ukraine’s head would end in the same way. If the West wants lasting peace, it must back Ukraine with security guarantees that actually deter future aggression. Whether that means NATO membership, bilateral defence agreements, or a long-term military presence, anything less simply hands Putin an easy win. And if Trump thinks selling out Ukraine will make America stronger, he’s in for a shock – because all he’ll have done is push Europe and Canada towards military self-reliance, leaving the U.S. out in the cold.