Author: Christopher-Dorset

It’s all gone pear shaped, hasn’t it. Starmer has managed to make himself decidedly unpopular within a month. Everything that the Tories did to make themselves unpopular Starmer is doing, but with far more vigour and energy.

Last year, after 7 October, I said that Europe is like a pressure cooker filled with petrol. You know it’s hotting up, you can smell the fumes, but things are under control — just. It would not, however, take much to spark a conflagration.

It was simply a matter of where and when it would begin, not if. France is, of course, ungovernable. Macron might have signed an electoral pact with Satan himself in order to limit the electoral success of the National Rally, but that came at a high cost. The militant left are, if anything, even more radical and destructive than the National Rally and they are not prepared to cooperate with Macron or respect the framework of the Fifth Republic. Funny thing, that. The National Rally were willing to work within the democratic framework of the Fifth Republic, demanding their pound of flesh, but respecting the presidency and the limits of their power. The militant left simply wish to destroy and burn down any limits to their perceived power.

In the past years, there’s been an almost united front. Borders no longer mean much, and some groups are more equal than others. If people challenge this, if people call for policies that are similar to those implemented by Bill Clinton, Jean Chrétien, Tony Blair or Bob Hawke, they’re smeared as far-right. That governments behind this are collapsing in popularity isn’t really surprising to say the least.

Sunak has finally called for an election. I’m not sure if he simply wished to catch Labour and the Illiberal Anti-Democrats off guard or if he simply wished to put the current Parliament out of its misery. It’s a far drop from the jubilation of 2019. In December 2019, the UK looked set to be an Anglophile Japan. Japanese voters might not always have liked the ruling LDP, but they kept voting for them because the opposition was too useless and chaotic. Of course, that all changed. Boris lost the plot, Truss was set up to fail (and she made some unforced errors as well) and the men in grey took control of the situation, ensuring that Sunak was coronated before Charles III.

Sunak was a capable chancellor. He’s obviously bright, serious and diligent. He also lacks a strong personality and a political mind. Despite my grudge against Boris, he had a strong personality and, were he not thrown off balance in 2020-2021, a keen political mind. His weakness was always his lack of a strong centre, his tendency to vacillate between different positions.

Sunak was doomed from the start, being more a political sacrificial lamb than anything else. His coronation after a firm rejection by Tory voters a mere months earlier hollowed out the party’s base. Why vote for a party that insists on shoehorning a rejected candidate after an obvious putsch? The men in grey, Dictator Dementia in Washington and even the idiot Hamburger in Berlin colluded to get him in. He’s proven to be utterly useless. He picks up on some important ideas, occasionally, but he simply lacks the mettle to follow through.

At the same time, Labour are facing their own set of challenges. Of course, the British electoral system is rather different than the American — but the Democrats and Labour are stuck in a similar predicament, one of their own making. Much like the Democrats turned on their traditional working-class base and jumped into bed with urban radicals, Labour have flirted for far too long with Cur-bin and his ilk, with many unsavoury elements. They are now having to circle the political square of keeping their traditional base onboard whilst also keeping the new radicals onside. The two do not mix. The working class are patriotic, socially conservative and not particularly fond of fanatic religious ideologies from other lands. The new radicals are anti-British, anti-Semitic and fanatically woke. Labour will also need an even bigger swing than Tony Blair received in 1997 to win a working majority. Tony Blair was able to keep the party base united whilst also selling himself as moderate enough to make conservative (spelling intentional) voters comfortable sitting out the election.

The British election, I suspect, will be fairly similar to the most recent Australian without the compulsory voting. After a long term in opposition, a Labour leader from an urban constituency with a long history in the left of his party will come to power, but not by as much as many expected. Starmer will, I think, win a working majority — in part because of the SNP’s fall from grace in Scotland. Much like Dementia Joe in the USA, however, he’s being held to ransom by the leftist fringe. If he does not placate them, they will most likely sit the election out. If, however, he placates them, he’ll turn off the traditional Labour base and moderates. He might also scare enough voters to turn out for the Illiberal Anti-Democrats or even to very, very grudgingly vote for the Tories.

Much like Albanese, Starmer will not find being in power easy. If his leftist instincts emerge too strongly, he’ll see a quick response. Public opinion in Britain is febrile. The nation remains conservative and patriotic. Even if many have become disillusioned by how the British government handled liberation, few want to open that psycho-drama up again. An “enhanced partnership” with the EU isn’t going to go over very well, either, especially since we all know by now how toxic the EU actually is. Even if the passengers are discontented, the ship has sailed. I also doubt having to join an EU that is in even worse shape than it was in 2016, with even worse prospects, with the express requirement to join the eurozone, the Schengen zone, no longer having the rebate and having half the continent on the brink of civil war is exactly an inviting proposition.

As for me, well… It all went to hell again and I am writing this from an old East German flat on the Baltic Sea. My life is decent enough. My flat is small, but comfortable. The people in the former East Germany are a lot more agreeable than those in the former West. They’re far more down-to-earth, they are far more relaxed about most things and they lack the in-your-face arrogance of many in the former West. My inability to sort rubbish, something which was an issue in Rheinland-Pfalz, is not an issue here. In fact, nobody even cares. The area is pretty enough and quite clean, close to some beautiful beaches.

I’m still fighting some of the old battles with the German state, giving it two fingers in the air at each opportunity. Oh, you want me to pay for a television licence when I don’t actually have a television — or a radio? For that matter, even though I don’t actually listen to or watch any German-produced content? I’ll drag this out for as long as possible. Ah, quite. My hostility to doctors might be a bit extreme. Fair enough, I’ll sort it out.Five minutes later, I’m registered with a private dental surgery, a private GP surgery and a Chinese Medicine Specialist — all in Dorset. Can’t be bothered with the Germans, they don’t speak English and don’t grasp my height in feet or weight in stone. I rang up the Americans to ask what they think of the costs, they’re all reasonable by American standards, so won’t be moaning about it!

I travelled back to Blighty for the second time in late December. After three increasingly depressing Christmases and New Years with a Danish Christmas looking grimmer yet, going to Britain seemed to be the better option.

Gatwick is not my favourite airport. It’s not the worst, but it leaves much to be desired. Still… It works. My flight arrived, I was able to get through passport control quickly and was on my way without a hitch. The trains ran on time and were in a reasonable state of repair. Although nowhere near the same standard of trains in Japan, they were vastly better than trains on the Continent.

I arrived early in Dorchester and had a proper flat white. Coffee in the UK has improved. The chains are dire, but independent cafés are increasingly solid. At the B&B, I was put in my regular room — one en suite and with a large, comfortable bathtub. Due to the time, regular service was interrupted. Normally, a full English breakfast is included in the room rate. Two of the four nights, I was sent to the restaurant the innkeeper and his wife own. Bubble and squeak with black pudding and bacon both times. One morning, they cooked an egg and bacon butty. Christmas morning, they were with friends and family as can be expected.

I went to Midnight Mass at my old Anglican parish church. It was full of people. Some I knew, many I did not. We held candles and sang carols. The next day, there was a Christmas meal in the church hall. Just the regular… Roast turkey, parsnips, Brussels sprouts, carrots, mashed potatoes, pigs in blankets and brown onion gravy. This was followed up, of course, with a good selection of classic English puddings.

That evening I had a bit of a falling out with someone. Months of increasing irritation and tension boiled over. Because I came later than she wanted me to, we had a bit of a row. Well, she had a bit of a row and I was a bit confused and apologetic about the whole thing. I knew that I’d not have ideal access to the internet for about a week, so I tried to pack in nearly two weeks of calls and meetings during the first four days. She never gave me a time, so I thought coming between 6-6:30 would be reasonable. Apparently, it was not. Because there were four people trying to talk to me at once, I was a bit short when she rang up. After being screamed at and denigrated for a couple hours, I left. The following day, I tried to be the bigger person and came for our pre-arranged meeting. It was calmer, but the tension was palpable.

The following day, I travelled to Bath. Bath is beautiful, but the cracks are showing. There is incredible wealth and it remains a place where people go to be seen, but there are also many shameless grifters. There are the wealthy and the poor living side-by-side, the beggars seeking the alms of those with more money than sense. It’s a city of £12 cream teas and £80 high teas, but also a city where the broken sleep in the doorways of abandoned shops. It’s a city of polite gentility, but also a meanness that you just don’t see in Dorchester. A day or two in Bath suffices for me. I stayed at the YMCA. It was my first time staying in bunk beds. It was a step-down for me, but not as bad as I thought it would be. Actually, it wasn’t a bad hostel. It’s just that I’m more comfortable with boutique hotels and family-run B&Bs.

I enjoyed going to my favourite Nepali restaurant in Bath as well as Sally Lunn’s. Even if a bit touristy, Sally Lunn’s is still worth it. It’s not as dear as one would think and the quality is excellent — although having a card reader shoved in my face made me feel ill at ease, my preferred method of payment being cash. The Nepali restaurant is consistently brilliant. The food is lovingly prepared and absolutely authentic. The décor is much like you’d see in Kathmandu.

The falling-out of Christmas carried over. I was initially supposed to spend a couple nights at said woman’s flat, the person who originally promised to host me having cancelled in early November due to an extended visit to Ireland. She accused me of causing a major rift and that she needed time to heal. (Because I came an hour and a half, two hours later than she thought I should come — even though she never told me that I should come at that time) That left me with two days with nowhere to go and nowhere to stay. I was offered a night in an unknown man’s guest bedroom, but communication broke down and after an hour and a half waiting around, looking for anyone, I rang up the innkeeper who had booked me in for the following day and asked to extend. He said that there was one room left, but it was not en suite although I’d still have my own bathroom. No worries, I was happy with that.

New Year’s was fun. I went to Wetherspoon’s and met up with some of the lads. Two had cider, one had beer and I had a decaf coffee. We rang in the New Year at the town pump, the town crier celebrating his last New Year. Oyez, oyez! God Save the King! It was small, but it was Dorchester. It was open for everyone. There was no need for tickets, security or listening to Saddiq Khan’s appalling agenda. It was simply cheerful, good-natured and quintessentially English.

The following day, I took the train to see Araminta. The heavy rains put a bit of a damper on plans to take a long walk or do much of anything except hide in any open establishment and try to stay dry. Still, it was good to see her. That evening I went back to Wetherspoon’s and met up with one of my mates from the night before. We chatted for a while. I lent him a book I had bought — a history of three generations of an Irish working class family who had served as members of the Royal Hong Kong Police. I had heard of the book after listening to multiple interviews with the writer on the Hong Kong Heritage Podcast. He is also from a working-class Irish family, having grown up in the UK and Ireland.

On the second, I travelled to London after getting my haircut at my old barber’s in Dorchester and meeting a shopkeeper I’ve known for some time for coffee. Oh… And buying a lot of British cheeses to smuggle back to Denmark. The train was delayed due to flooding, but I arrived in London where I stayed in another hostel. It was a bit difficult, but I survived. The cost of living crisis has really forced many to make sacrifices.

London was not as bad as I thought it would be. Then again, the hostel was in Bayswater and I only went to the better parts of central London. Hyde Park is as lovely as ever. I can never get enough of the V&A. The British Museum was top-notch as always, but it can get a bit too crowded. London is in many ways the centre of the world. New York City thinks it is, but it’s not. I did, however, notice a meanness, a nastiness in London that I hadn’t before. Saddiq Khan has been an utter catastrophe. Although I never felt unsafe in London, you can see a staleness to it, a sense of policies being reached not because they are good or even reasonable, but because local officials with a lot of power want to stick it to the national government. London still looks like London. In some ways, it still feels like London — but it’s not that London I remember from my youth and that wasn’t even all that long ago.

I travelled back to Copenhagen on British Airways. It was better than the last few times I had flown with them. Heathrow is massive and busy, but it’s well organised and logical. I managed to get through everything quickly. Amazingly, the Danes were actually capable of doing their jobs and I didn’t have to stand in queue for nearly two hours like I did in October. In fact, I was silently waved through by a disinterested Danish woman. She took a look at my passport, a look at me and considered me unworthy of a first, much less a second, look. The only somewhat unsettling thing for me was passport control in Britain. For so many years, I had gone to Britain and lived in Britain. I’d integrated so well and made a life there. I can still go, I’m still treated better at the UK border than at the Euroborder, but there is a difference. In the end, I’m now merely a Eurowog. It’s not a comfortable feeling for me as I despise Europe and have no real connexion to it, beyond inheriting my mother’s citizenship at birth. In Europe, I’m classed as being somewhat too British to ever qualify as being European. In the UK, I am now legally a Eurowog — despite having stronger connexions to the UK than any part of the Continent.

In April, I will move to Ireland. Travel between the two countries will be easier, less stressful than between Euroland and the UK. After five years, I’ll be classed as Irish and will have essentially the same rights as a Briton. I think I’d prefer that than being a Continental. As for that rather difficult woman… I blocked her number and email address. She had been growing increasingly toxic over the past half year. Her narcissism, when blended with a growing drink problem, made it intolerable.

Albo was always a bit of a plank. A poor imitation of Bob Hawke, he could turn on the charm when he needed to, but it was always very superficial and clumsy. Still, Peter Dutton has been somewhat bland as opposition leader. Had Albo played his cards wisely, he would have had an easy go of it. Of course, that’s not what he did.

Albo chose to call a referendum on a “voice to parliament”. For those of us who don’t know, Australia’s constitution is notoriously tricky to amend and Australians are immensely fond of voting “no” to any changed to their constitution. Bob Hawke’s efforts, with bipartisan support and input, to make even modest, inoffensive changes to the Australian constitution were voted down.

Perhaps having been stung by Australian voters emphatically rejecting the 1999 referendum on becoming a republic based on a combination of the broad distaste for the model on offer and a view that there’s little point in fixing what isn’t broken, Albo and Ilk were rather secretive about the details. Was the Uluru Statement From the Heart one page, eighteen pages, twenty-six pages? Nobody really knew. What form would the voice take? There were no real specifics. Nor, for that matter, was there any real bipartisan support or even an effort placed into getting a broad spectrum of Australians to contribute to a final product. The vote, in the end, became a hyper-partisan war of words with accusations of racism and bigotry being hurled at even the most measured criticism. When indigenous Australians like Jacinta Price and Warren Mundine dissented, they were smeared and degraded. When Warren Mundine wouldn’t let himself be talked over by the ABC, he was subjected to ad hominem attacks on air.

In the end, it failed. In fact, the referendum was voted down in a landslide in each Australian state and the Northern Territory. The ACT voted yes, but nobody wants to claim responsibility for that. The response to that has been vicious. The claws have come out and the veneer of politesse by many backers seems to be wearing off. When the UK voted for liberation in 2016, when US voters refused to accept the chosen president, the gloves came off. I dread that Australia will now be subject to the same abuse.

Australia’s favourite dictator, Comrade Kim Jong-Dan of the Democratic People’s Republic of Victoria, has struck again. After spending months negotiating for Victoria to hold the 2026 Commonwealth Games — and running on that platform — he cancelled the games. After only a few months, the same people who said that the games would cost A$2 billion suddenly realised that they’d cost A$7 billion. Of course, cost overruns and unexpected cost increases are part of any building process. But… A difference of A$5 billion within months is a bit much. Part of the Victorian Labour Party’s strength in regional cities at the last election came from the promise of new infrastructure and facilities as a result of the Commonwealth Games.

That the games would be expensive was already well-known. South Australia had explored a bid, but chose not to proceed after they concluded it would be a loss-maker. Other Australian officials, such as the premier of Western Australia, held the same stance. That’s political maturity and responsibility. If something is going to cost more than it’s worth, don’t bid on it — or, at very least, cancel a bit early on. For athletes from Commonwealth countries, the Commonwealth games are a good chance to shine. They receive global exposure, but don’t have the Americans or Chinese crowding them out.

The games themselves are not in doubt. The UK and India are ready to host the games on relatively short notice, should the Gold Coast, which is prepared to hold the games, not go through. (Anastasia of the South Seas and Canberra would have to provide some funding — a possibility, but not a guarantee) What bemuses me is that Comrade Kim Jong-Dan acts with such brazen impunity. To begin with, the cost overrun of A$5 billion within months is not insubstantial. In any reasonable jurisdiction, heads would roll. The sudden cancellation will most likely cost billions in compensation. Again, in any reasonable jurisdiction, the head would be in hot water. Not in the Democratic People’s Republic of Victoria, it seems. Although there is a Senate inquiry in the works, it’s less certain what will come of it.

In recent days there has been a viral video circulating around the world of a German woman dragging an eco-freak off a road in Bottrop by the hair — twice. For those who have not seen the masterpiece, I have found a short clip which has the bonus of a driver in a black Mercedes-Benz knocking another-freak over.

There has been some confusion about what will happen. I will seek to explain the German legal context to you, my dear fellow Charioteers. Under German law, the eco-freaks will be charged with various offences. This particular group were merely annoying. Others attach themselves to roads with resins, etc. They will be removed, using jackhammers if necessary. They will be held financially liable for the damage done to the road in order to get them unstuck.

The amount of assistance provided to remove them from the road will, however, be strictly limited. Once removed, they will be sent on their way with court dates to follow. In many cases, they will still have blocks of asphalt, cement or concrete attached their hands. If two people attached themselves to the road in close proximity, they two will remain attached to either other. It is up to them to get the remnants of the road removed. Depending on what was used, it can be a very long, painful process.

Unfortunately… The heroine of the day, the woman who pulled the eco-freak by the hair, will most likely also face charges. However deserved, German law frowns down on people taking physically aggressive action against others — even if they’re in the wrong, unless it is strictly necessary for self-defence. The Mercedes driver will most likely also face charges. That this will turn them into martyrs with an international following is entirely irrelevant. German law, and German prosecutors (persecutors?) are almost autistic in their inability to understand when prosecuting (persecuting?) someone will cause the people and the state more harm than good.

Recently, at a work-related meeting in Copenhagen, I had the opportunity to here a republican Scotsman opine about the nature of monarchy. In his view, it’s an essentially racist, classist and parasitic institution — whether it’s back in the UK, Denmark or Sweden.

I didn’t bother engaging him all too much. It did, however, make me ponder that thought process. He is a reasonably intelligent man, but his views are not grounded in reality.There is a myth of the republic — that a republic is somehow more meritorious, that it is somehow more egalitarian.

The two great modern republics, the United States and France, would seem to embody the exact opposite of those republican myths. Both the US and France have social hierarchies, both have a history of less than stellar treatment of visible minorities and it’s hard to argue that American or French presidents have been “men of the people”. The United States, in part, was formed as a response to growing pressures in Britain to end slavery. There was a sense that it was not a question of if Britain would end slavery, but when. Twelve of the first eighteen US presidents were slave owners.

In South Africa and Southern Rhodesia, part of the drive towards becoming republics was the desire to remove the influence of the Crown in domestic race politics. On his visit to South Africa in 1947, King George VI defied South African politicians and personally pinned medals on black South African soldiers. The Crown was making its discomfort with Apartheid and its Southern Rhodesian equivalent known with some regularity. Even that pales in comparison with the brutality of Argentinean and Chilean republics. Without the brake that the Spanish Crown had been, early South American republics engaged in genocides against indigenous peoples. There was a fear that they, too, would become mestizo societies in the Mexican fashion.

I have similarly wondered about the nature of cost. French, American, German, Irish, Italian and Austrian presidents receive pensions for life. Former PMs, when applicable, also receive life pensions. In the USA, that means that six men are receiving presidential salaries. Likewise, in France, relatively recently five men were receiving presidential salaries. In Germany, it’s six. American, French, German, Irish, Italian and Austrian presidents live in mansions/palaces. These are not humble, modest estates. A primary difference is that these residences are not necessarily open to the public as museums. Although visits are possible, they’re strictly controlled.

Nicky the Fish has been arrested. What will come of this is anyone’s guess, but it’s refreshing that she has at very least been held to account — at least to a degree. At any rate, it’s not a good look. Alex Salmond and Nichola Sturgeon were the SNP’s big beasts. There was the possibility of having a reasonable, pragmatic leader after her resignation, but the SNP chose someone utterly useless. Now, with an ever-growing scandal that is going all the way to the top at a time when Scotland is suffering after years of chronic mismanagement, it’s hard to see a way out for the SNP.

It’s been three weeks since I started living with the Swedes. For the sake of clarity, I mean the northern European people normally resident in Sweden, not the root vegetables. That said, after having met and observed some of their adolescent and university-aged specimens, the distinction between the two blurs.

For the most part, I enjoy living in Sweden. Swedes, in general, are kind and decent people. They’re a bit reserved, but they’re polite and helpful. One thing they’re not known for is being boisterous, something which on occasion becomes a problem for me — especially when Spanish Inés and I start having heated arguments in Castilian. I made sure to have our last heated argument in front of Malmö’s famous windmill.

There are, however, certain, infuriating things that are rather typical for Sweden. When visiting Italy early this month, I was able to wash my clothes at a laundrette near where I was staying in Milan. Whether in Japan, the UK, Italy, Germany or Australia, there was always some possibility for me to wash clothes. In Sweden, there is not. Some years ago, the Swedish government passed a law which required all housing units to have access to washing machines and they must be free. On paper, that sounds good. In reality, it’s a bloody nuisance.

I’m still in the process of settling in. Part of that involves my living in short-term lets, usually shared. It’s not an issue, really. Though somewhat inconvenient, especially when having to head out with three suitcases, it gives me a chance to spend time in different parts of Malmö and to see which areas I like and which I dislike. It does, however, become a nuisance when I have to rely on others to handle booking a time slot for a washing machine. Yes, it’s based on a reservation system. What that has meant is that I’ve had to cross the Øresund to Denmark on a weekly basis. For the past two weeks, Viking-type chum has granted me the use of his washing machine. As his schedule, for the time being, does not permit it, I have had to find another solution. There are no laundrettes in this part of Sweden. They became redundant some time ago. Instead, I get to cross the Øresund to Amager and make use of a Danish laundrette.

So it’s finally come to pass. Nicky the Fish is gone, her husband arrested and years of mismanagement catching up. Scottish Labour have a new leadership that seems to at be at least somewhat capable of communicating with Scottish voters. Scotland is unlikely to become a Labour fiefdom again, but Labour do have a good chance of becoming a serious party north of the border again. In the mid-to-long-term, the Tories at least have favourable odds of remaining a small, but relevant political force. Most importantly, Labour, the Tories and the Liberal Democrats have the ability to deny the SNP and their Greens allies a majority at Holyrood. A Labour-Lib Dem coalition would, most likely, be an improvement over the SNP. Things might not change overnight, the SNP will probably remain an electoral force, but what talent do they have? What leadership?

The UK Is out of the EU. Life goes on. I’ve heard breathless reporting from the BBC, Guardian, etc. about how everything going wrong in the UK is because of Brexit. Eh… The same problems, or at least the same number of problems, exist in France, Germany, Spain, Italy, etc. The Land of Eternal Dementia (formerly known as the USA) is becoming increasingly farcical. With the sky not falling and no serious politician wanting to touch that issue, it’s not going to be a real issue. The UK might join EFTA, it might not, but Brexit is finished. Even in Scotland, it’s not the only issue, and there are more pressing things than the minor differences in daily life.