Today I’m at the funeral of my dear friend Christopher Booker.
Were he alive — and I still can’t quite believe he is not — I know exactly what we’d have been talking about this morning: the risible section of last night’s Newsnight which the BBC had cobbled together in a sad, desperate, and unconvincing attempt to debunk the Climategate scandal.
Sir Kim Darroch, the British Ambassador to the U.S. described by President Trump as “a very stupid guy”, has resigned his post. The final straw, he has claimed, was watching future Prime Minister Boris Johnson repeatedly failing to support him last night in a TV debate.
This is great news for a number of reasons.
First, it means that Britain is now free to appoint a replacement ambassador prepared to nurture the Special Relationship rather than undermine it with snarky memos dissing President Trump.
Second, it has quite ruined the day of Britain’s liberal elite – aka the Wankerati. Anti-Brexit, anti-Trump, pro-climate-change hysteria, Darroch was very much their man in Washington. One dripping wet Times columnist has even gone so far as to suggest – without irony – that Darroch’s departure is a national humiliation to rank with the Suez crisis.
Three months after slandering him, unfairly trashing his reputation, and costing him his job as an unpaid government advisor, the left-wing New Statesman has finally apologised to Sir Roger Scruton.
So too, finally, has the government minister James Brokenshire who sacked Scruton from his job for no better reason than that he lacked the courage or the moral principle to stand up to the left-wing witch-hunt mob baying for Scruton’s blood.
President Trump has declared Britain’s Ambassador to Washington DC Sir Kim Darroch persona non grata. Translated from the Latin this means roughly: “Get the hell out of Dodge, scum sucker. You’re not welcome in this town any more.”
The wacky Ambassador that the U.K. foisted upon the United States is not someone we are thrilled with, a very stupid guy. He should speak to his country, and Prime Minister May, about their failed Brexit negotiation, and not be upset with my criticism of how badly it was…
My plan to cut the BBC out of my life entirely is working well. Apart from the occasional forgivable lapse — that excellent Margaret Thatcher documentary; Pointless and Only Connect because they’re the only programmes we can all watch together as a family — I find that not watching or listening to anything the BBC does is making me calmer, happier and better informed.
I’m also learning stuff about myself that I never imagined possible. Like the fact that I have a massive man crush on the rap star Kanye West. Though I’ve long been a fan of his albums, I went right off him as a person a few years ago when he headlined Glastonbury and played quite the worst, most self-indulgent, dreary set I have ever had to endure: no decent tunes or hook, just Kanye the egotist and some glaring white lights shining full in your face as if to show how much he despised you.
Gender quotas on company boards are an expensive waste of money, a study has confirmed.
At least they are if you’re old fashioned enough to believe that a company’s purpose is to generate shareholder value: shoehorning women onto the board just because they’re women reduces profitability, on average by 12 per cent, the study in Leadership Quarterly found.
But on the upside – the study adds, perhaps to cover itself in case anyone gets too offended – companies with more women on the board are less prone to risk. They are also ‘beyond dispute’ good for ‘equal opportunity.’
The study examined the performance of companies in Norway (the first country to introduce such quotas, in 2003), Finland, Sweden and Denmark.
German drivers have begun displaying ‘F*** you Greta’ bumper stickers in protest at the world’s most irritating and over-promoted teenage girl.
Greta Thunberg — with her distinctive pigtails and the thousand-yard stare of a girl who can actually see in the air all that evil “carbon” which is supposedly going to destroy the planet — has been feted across the mainstream media as a kind of latter-day Joan of Arc and even nominated as a candidate for a Nobel Prize.
At Glastonbury festival, next to the painting of Sir David Attenborough with a halo round his head, she was celebrated with a painted hardboard cutout with the legend ‘What She Said’.
Christopher Booker, the world’s greatest climate sceptic, has died.
Booker – “Bookers” as I used to call him on our regularly weekly phone chats – would have hated being called the ‘greatest’ but he was, for a number of reasons.
Firstly, he wrote the definitive book on the climate change scam: The Great Global Warming Disaster: Is the Obsession with ‘Climate Change’ Turning Out to be the Most Costly Blunder in History?
Secondly, he was one of very, very few journalists capable of getting climate sceptical arguments prominent coverage in the mainstream media – notably in the hugely influential and widely read Daily Mail and also in his weekly Sunday Telegraph column.