The Atherstone Hunt, Another Piece of Old England Killed by the Puritan Left

BOSWORTH, ENGLAND - MARCH 05: The Hounds and Horses of the Atherstone Hunt set out on a hunt on March 5, 2015 in Bosworth, England. The hunt is celebrating its bicentenary this year and today's commemorative hunt started from Bosworth. The hunt continues it's tradition with members paying a subscription …
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“Chris Packham’s joy as…”
Was there ever a phrase in the English language more indicative of the fact that whatever follows is certainly going to be a very bad thing rather than a very good thing?

And so it is with this story.

Read the rest at Breitbart.

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Remoaner Loon James O’Brien Struck Down by the Curse of Delingpole

James O’Brien’s book How To Be Right has been spotted in the online equivalent of the remaindered pile.

His book, which only came out three months ago, has had its price slashed from £12.99 to 99p. This is not a sign of success.

Normally I’d be far too generous and sweet-natured to gloat over a fellow author’s failure – even an author as irksome and vindictive as James O’Brien, a self-hating public schoolboy with a radio show in which he rants about how awful Brexit it is and accuses everyone who disagrees with him of being a racist.

But on this occasion, I have to make an exception. Here is why:

 

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Delingpod LIVE!

For the full Delingpod experience, Podcast Live presents:

THE DELINGPOD LIVE IN LONDON!

(A few other political podcasts will be featured, naturally.)

Date: Sunday 7th April

Location: The Light, Euston, London

Tickets£12 (sessions) – £30 (All day)

Use this Special Friends discount code: It’s JAMES19

See you there!

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Who remembers the greatest crusader?

God’s Wolf tells the story of Reynald de Châtillon, largely written out of history.

(image: iStock)

For your perfect summer read I’d recommend Zoé Oldenbourg’s 1949 classic medieval adventure The World Is Not Enough. It’ll comfortably occupy you for a good fortnight and while it’s thrilling, romantic and heartbreaking enough to keep you turning the pages, it’s also so beautifully written and historically illuminating that you won’t feel the emptiness and self-disgust you do when you’ve finally got to the end of a bog-standard airport thriller.

Read the rest in the Spectator.

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David Cameron’s Kept His Head Down, So Let Him Chillax

David Cameron
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David Cameron was in the news again this week after being paid £1 million a minute to give a speech explaining why Brexit was a terrible mistake at the annual Gay Stranglers’ Guild gala dinner at a brutal dictatorship in central Asia, before spending a week cruising the Baltic on the yacht of Putin’s second-favourite oligarch with the prettiest members of the Russian men’s lacrosse team.

No, wait. My bad. Had he done that, as we know from similar cases, he would have got off scot-free. Instead, the ex-PM did something far, far worse in the eyes of our ever watchful media: he was photographed enjoying himself at a Cotswolds pop festival with a glass of booze in one hand and a fag in the other.

The press launched themselves on Dave with all the ravenous glee of those evil- parasitic sea fleas that gnawed the leg of the Australian boy who went paddling in the sea off Melbourne and turned it into a jellied pulp (just Google it — but only once you’ve had your breakfast). That’s because, get this, our Dave hadn’t just been caught out-rageously letting his hair down at Wilderness Festival; he’d been photographed talking to a woman wearing a sequined jacket with a neon pink heart embroidered with the word ‘Corbyn’. Oh the hilarity!

According to the Independent (an online freesheet) it was Just. About. The. Most. Embarrassing. Thing. Ever. It quoted the jacket’s owner, Lucy Edwards, as saying: ‘He was so mad when he saw me walk off with what was on my back.’ Which I’m sure was exactly what Cameron thought — he wasn’t just being polite to a pushy stranger at a festival or anything.

Read the rest in the Spectator.

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Mr. Delingpole’s Sporting Tour: “I Must Establish a Career Where I Can Afford to Hunt Three Times a Week”

I’m writing this on a Monday morning and I remember the sensation all too well: it’s exactly the same sense of despondency and nostalgic yearning I used to feel after a weekend’s clubbing in the late 80s. Only this time, it’s not an Acid House all-nighter I’m coming down from, but a day out with the “Chid and Lec”, better known as the Chiddingfold, Leconfield & Cowdray Hunt.

Gosh, what a fun meet. All I can think about is the instant friends I made that day.

When I arrived — as a guest of joint-master Robin Muir — I didn’t know any of them from Adam. But five hours of hard riding and gentle quaffing later, they felt like my dearest mates.

From the 90 or so who were at the meet to enjoy the lavishly generous whisky mac stirrup cups in front of FitzHall, home of Rupert and Louie Uloth, to the 20 knackered stalwarts who stuck it out to the end.

“No sex,” complained our field master, Paul just before our huntsman Adrian “Sage” Thompson blew for home. I thought this was hunt-speak for “not much action.” But it turned out I’d misheard him.

He’d said “No scent. They just can’t pick up the trails.” Which was a bit sad, really, because according to various informed sources who’d heard it from the great Nigel Peel MFH (who began his career with this hunt) we were hunting over some of the best scenting country anywhere in England.

Quite a bit of it was marsh. At times, it almost felt like being cavalry at Passchendaele. Everyone ended up so mud-spattered we looked like a herd of leopards. But despite the conditions and the lack of sport, we did seem to do an awful lot of insane galloping. This often involved some very slippery right angle turns on the edge of stubble fields that you’d never do if you weren’t hunting.

That’s why we all so love hunting, isn’t it? It’s a license to do naughty things.

Read the rest at Horse and Hound.

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Mr. Delingpole’s Sporting Tour: My First Day out Hunting

“Don’t worry, we’ll take things very carefully and bring him back in one piece,” Jane Spencer promised my wife, somewhat rashly, I thought.

Jane was talking on the eve of my first proper day’s hunting — in “Monday country”, with the Pytchley — and like most non-hunting spouses, the Fawn (as she’s known) wasn’t looking forward to the prospect one bit.

It’s not that the Fawn is anti-hunting. Her mother — quite rightly — thought that it was the greatest sport on earth and before she died she ceremonially handed down to me her cherished hunting whip.

But the Fawn knows what hunting is like and, worse, knows what I’m like: reckless, impetuous, irresponsible, immature, hopeless. As I demonstrated only the other week when I broke our daughter’s ankle.

I’ll spare you the ugly details. Suffice to say that it was a riding injury and as the parent supposedly in charge at the time, I got all the blame. It could hardly have happened at a more inconvenient moment — the day before school started and, worse, the beginning of the autumn hunting season.

How in God’s name was I to persuade the Fawn that riding isn’t dangerous when we had such strong evidence to the contrary, stomping round the house with her boot and crutches and being as bolshie as only a hobbled female teenager can?

Anyway, to my first proper hunt. I say “proper” because although I’ve been out one or two times over the years — once, with the Devon & Somerset staghounds, just before the ban, for an article in The Sunday Times; once with the Cotswold for a TV documentary in praise of toffs — I’ve only ever done the really important bit, the jumping bit, by accident.

Jumping petrifies for me, because though I’ve been riding on and off since I was a cold, reluctant eight-year0-old (“Ianto. T-rot!”), horses aren’t in my blood and I never did Pony Club or anything proper like that.

Read the rest at Horse and Hound.

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Twitter wars: another proxy battleground for the future of Western civilisation | James Delingpole

August 4, 2013

Twitter, yesterday

So I’d just got back from doing a shop at Aldi (*) last night when I noticed that in my absence I’d been mentioned in 120 new tweets. “Ulp!” I thought. “What have I gone and done now?” In Twitterland, you see, being mentioned in lots of tweets is usually a sign you’ve been naughty.

(* Aldi’s aged sirloin Aberdeen Angus steak is unsurpassed)

Anyway, it turned out that I had enraged the usual Twitter suspects. Some had chosen to take umbrage over a link I’d put up to another superb piece by Russell Taylor in which he had an entirely justified dig at the ghastly Co Op and its war on lads’ mags; others were rising to the defence of publicity-seeking Labour MP Stella Creasy who can’t seem quite to make up her mind whether she is a delicate wallflower in need of protective regulation or a feisty, fearless interweb provocatrice. The general verdict was that I was immature, mentally ill, devoid of love, psychologically damaged, inadequate and DEFINITELY NOT FUNNY, let alone worthy of a voice in the national debate.

So, as you do, I had a glance at the self-descriptions of my self-appointed Twitter jury and here are some examples of what I found:

“Labour party activist”; “Middle-aged old style socialist”; “leftie”; “Guardian-reading liberal”; “gig-going lefty”; “Socialist Labour party”; “Local government worker and political activist”; “Labour cllr (Withington)”; “@owenjones84.”

Can any of you notice what they have in common? Yes. That’s right. These are the kind of people who, if I wrote a 10,000 word panegyric on the beauty and wisdom of their mothers, would focus solely on my abject failure in paragraph 57 to include an exclamation mark after “and her crochet skills are fantastic too…” The kind of chippy malcontents, indeed, who are quite heftily over-represented in the comments section below this blog, busily pointing out stuff like how the spell of nice weather we’ve had recently makes a total mockery of my evil, Big-Oil funded climate change scepticism, or noting that because I suffer depression I am mentally unstable, or just spitting bile over the fact that they’ve got worthless degrees in climate “science” from the “University” of East Anglia and all that lovely work they had as advisers in the renewables sector seems to have dried up rather of late. Not normal people in other words. Not neutral voices who’ve thoughtfully weighed up the pros and cons before chipping in their tuppenny hapenny’s worth. But shrill, angry, politically motivated, logic-proof, blinkered, standard issue greeny-lefty trolls.

Why am I telling you this? Because many of you, I know, consider that the goings-on at Twitter this week are beneath your lofty attention. Of course I understand why you think this: Twitter is indeed a bare-knuckle bear pit of a witch hunt frenzy nightmare of bile, invective and round, unvarnished evil. (Though it does have its plus sides too, or I wouldn’t waste so much time there). But what some of you appear to be unaware of is its significance in the broader culture wars.

In these culture wars this week’s Twitter debate is Leveson is Toby Young’s free school is Drummer Lee Rigby and “Islamophobia” is climate change is Christopher Snowdon’s “fake charities” is Piers Morgan and gun control is Trayvon Martin. Which is to say that every one of these issues serves as a proxy battleground for a much broader, and much more important conflict which is raging around the world right now and on whose outcome the future of our fragile civilisation depends.

What this war has very, very little to do with is whether nasty Mr Murdoch’s wicked henchmen caused Milly Dowler’s phone messages to be erased or about whether that idiot’s undeniably stupid, offensive and wrongheaded rape threat to Stella Creasy was any more sincere than Paul Chambers’s tweet “threat” to blow up Robin Hood airport. You’d never guess this from the way these stories have been gleefully spun by the leftist media – the BBC and the Guardian especially – but it just doesn’t, it really doesn’t.

What all these disparate issues are really about is the things they’re always really about: the bitter, ongoing struggle between those on the one hand who cleave ardently to the statist religion of equality, diversity and sustainability in which society’s “best interests” are decided by an “enlightened” elite of bureaucrats, technocrats, petty officials, social workers, Local Agenda 21 groupuscules, administrators, UN and EU apparatchiks, Guardian editorial-writers, grandstanding politicians and members of the BBC Trust. And on the other, those of us who have sufficient faith in human nature to take the view that – barring the odd safety net here and the occasional piece of protective legislation there – the best route to creating a more fruitful, enjoyable, richer and, yes, fairer world is for us all, pretty much, to be left to live our lives the way we want to live them, unencumbered by confiscatory taxes, Nannyish government edicts and pettifogging regulation which seeks to micromanage every last detail of our daily existence from how many different coloured bags we put our rubbish in to the degree to which we’re permitted to be rude towards our enemies on Twitter.

I know which side I’m on. This columnist here seems to be equally sure which side she’s on. You can all decide for yourselves where you belong on this ideological battleground. But don’t kid yourself that this is a war where you can just sit on the sidelines or where there’s a “reasonable middle ground”. Ultimately, it’s about liberty v tyranny; about freedom of speech v creeping state control; free market capitalism v anti-growth collectivism; personal responsibility v suckling on the teat of the state; optimism v pessimism.

You choose.

Related posts:

  1. Twitter: ‘Tweet’ went the birdy, and we did
  2. How the BBC fell for a Marxist plot to destroy civilisation from within
  3. I have just seen the Conservatives’ future. Unfortunately, it’s in New Zealand.
  4. The genius of Fenbeagle: Dan Daringpole – Pilot of the Future

 

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What really happened on BBC Any Questions | James Delingpole

June 10, 2013

One of last night’s protestors.

I did very much enjoy recording Any Questions in the belly of the beast – aka Eco Loon Central, aka the Centre for Alternative Technology in Machynlleth – this week. But I’m not sure it necessarily had the makings of brilliant radio.

The big problem with radio – as opposed to TV – is that if things start kicking off in the recording venue (as they very much did with last night’s unusually lively audience of yoghurt-weaving yurt-dwellers) there are no cameras to relay what’s going on to the outside world. If you were listening last night – or if you listened to today’s repeat – all you’ll have heard is some background protestations from the audience and the sound of Jonathan Dimbleby trying to keep order.

I think the technical term for what the BBC did with this programme was “trolling.” Step one: arrange to record your panel show in ground zero of green lunacy. Step two: invite one of Britain’s most infamous climate sceptics and one of Britain’s most outspokenly anti-wind-farm, pro-fracking MPs (Owen Paterson – who was partly responsible for effecting the government’s recent policy shift making it easier for groups to oppose wind farms). Step three: light touch-paper and run.

That noise you’ll have heard in the background was partly all the mung-bean-munchers in the audience jeering and hissing me when I expressed scepticism about climate change; but mainly – the real rumpus at the end – was when a small group of anti-badger-cull protestors in the front row tried to hijack the show by loudly shouting insults at Owen Paterson. Annoyingly this was at the very moment when it was my turn to speak about wind farms and I ended up having to shout into my mic so as to avoid being drowned out by the yelling badger huggers.

Anyway, I enjoyed it a lot, as I think Paterson did too. We didn’t feel threatened, the volunteers from the Alternative Technology Centre were all very sweet and welcoming, and of course it’s always tremendous fun getting to tell a bunch of eco loons to their face that they’re a bunch of eco loons – and have it broadcast all over the country.

But I fear that the real – and thoroughly undeserved – losers from all this were the thousands of people all over mid-Wales who are struggling desperately to stop their matchlessly beautiful landscape being destroyed by wind turbines and pylons. Taking the train to Machynlleth on Friday I looked out of the window slack-jawed at the magnificence of mid-Wales’s The-Shire-like hill country which has been rendered more lushly green than perhaps at any time in recent history thanks to the atmospheric abundance of glorious CO2. And the question I kept asking myself is: “How could anyone who really cares about our natural heritage possibly want to destroy this with wind turbines?”

Under current government plans, 800 turbines – some over 400 feet tall – are to be built in mid-Wales, with another 100 miles worth of pylons to be built across Montgomeryshire and into Shropshire in order to connect their expensive, intermittent, unreliable electricity with the national grid. This is going to cost a minimum of £2 billion. Yet, for about one fifth of that cost you can build a gas fired power station capable of producing nearly three times as much power – without blighting the countryside for miles around and without draining the pockets of the poor, put-upon energy user with unnecessary green tariffs.

These people deserve better than to have the cause dearest to their hearts trivialised in the way it was on BBC Any Questions. Given a bit more space and given a more balanced audience, I could have made a much more persuasive case for them. Instead, I was forced to bellow my point, slogan-like, into the mic in the last few seconds before the show closed while the badger protestors were barracking Paterson. Exciting for some us, perhaps, but not really fair on the people who really matter: the thousands of victims of the unconscionable wind energy scam still being forced on them by our Coalition government, the Welsh Assembly and Alex Salmond.

UPDATE: I’ve written some further thoughts on this which I think a few of you might enjoy. There’s a particularly delicious section on one of our house trolls.

Related posts:

  1. Any Questions? Yeah. Why is British broadcasting so incorrigibly liberal-left?
  2. Any Questions
  3. Only the Tea Party can save us now
  4. Only a totalitarian New World Order can save us now says Naomi Klein

 

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‘Trougher’ Yeo: we mustn’t laugh… | James Delingpole

June 10, 2013

Tim “Trougher” Yeo MP has been caught with his trousers down.

Some of you, I know, are expecting me to gloat. And I must agree that on the face of it it does look pretty shoddy.

Tim Yeo, after all, is the Chairman of the Energy and Climate Change Select Committee. Its job is to “examine the expenditure, administration and policy of the Department of Energy and Climate Change (DECC) and its associated public bodies.” Therefore, clearly, it would be an issue of grave concern if an MP with such an influential regulatory role were found to be abusing his power by offering to grant special behind-the-scenes favours to green vested interest in return for wodges of cash.

Yet this, it would seem on first glance, is what Yeo has been caught doing on camera by a newspaper sting operation.

“The reporters approached Yeo posing as representatives of a solar energy company offering to hire him as a paid advocate to push for new laws to boost its business for a fee of £7,000 a day. He told them he could commit to at least one day a month, despite the fact that he already held four private jobs and was in negotiations to take a further two. Setting out what he could offer, the MP said: “If you want to meet the right people, I can facilitate all those introductions and I can use the knowledge I get from what is quite an active network of connections.” Asked if that extended to government figures, Yeo replied: “Yes.” The House of Commons code of conduct forbids members from acting as paid advocates, including by lobbying ministers. Yeo also said he could help them by guiding them on submitting evidence to his own committee, which he described as “a good way of getting your stuff on the map”.”

It’s true that this is not the first time Yeo’s green business activities have come to the attention of this blog.

There’s Tim Yeo: No Headline Can Do Him Justice.

and Trougher Yeo recants on Global Warming

and Just Why Is Tory MP Tim Yeo So Passionate About Green Issues

and Tim Yeo: like a cross between Ebola and Chris Huhne

and Lilley Sticks It To Trougher Yeo

In some of these blogposts it may gently have been hinted, with this column’s characteristic delicacy and tact, that there may be a degree of conflict of interest between the £200,000 plus per annum Yeo snaffles from his green businesses (on top of his MP’s salary) and his fierce advocacy in parliament and behind the scenes of the kind of environmental regulatory measures without which this kind of business would be unlikely to survive commercially.

But not in this one. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to this and I realise that there’s no way any half-decent human being could do what Tim Yeo has been accused of doing and live with the shame. If the allegations against him were really true, he would have retired to his office with his bottle of whisky and his old service pistol months ago in order to do the right thing.

The other day Patrick Mercer MP got himself into deep doo-doo for what I genuinely consider a venial slip of no consequence to anyone. It really doesn’t matter one jot that he was prepared to take a few thousand quid from the Fijian government to lobby on its behalf, because the difference, if any, it would have made to UK policy would have been negligible and it wouldn’t have cost the taxpayer a penny. Far sadder to my mind was what the story tells us about the miserable lot of a backbench MP: if we’re really to get the calibre of parliamentary representatives we deserve then we’re going to have to pay them properly. Otherwise, they’re going to go on having to scrabble around having to earn extra on the side, instead of sticking to what they should be doing which is acting in the interests of the country and protecting us from crap regulation.

What Tim Yeo has been accused of doing is of a different order of putrescent disgustingness entirely. It’s not that he was apparently prepared to trouser £7,000 for using his influence per se that’s the key issue, it seems to me. Rather, it’s that Yeo appears on the surface to be one of those MPs most consistently responsible for using his power and influence to prop up one of the most expensive, corrupt and dishonest scams in history.

The great Climate Change hoax has cost the UK not just the odd thousand here and there. It has cost it billions. Thousands of old people have been condemned to miserable deaths in fuel poverty; good businesses have been crippled by layers of environmental regulation; bad businesses have gorged themselves on free money they simply don’t deserve by sucking on the teat of the subsidised renewables sector; property rights have been confiscated, views ruined, sleep disturbed, people’s health damage, birds and bats chopped to pieces by wind turbines; our economic recovery has been held back by idiot green taxes and the idiot ongoing attempt by DECC and its allies to stop us exploiting our abundant shale gas reserves.

And where has alleged Tory MP Tim Yeo MP been in all this? Has been carefully scrutinising the scientific evidence for this alleged climate change threat? Has been overseeing DECC’s policies to be absolutely damn sure they’re not doing more harm than good?

Er, not exactly, no. Instead, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep the green gravy train going – long after the evidence to justify its existence has lost all credibility – in order, it would seem on the first casual glance, to benefit from it financially.

If this is true, as I say, it really ought to be whisky and service pistol time.

That’s why I am quite sure there must be another explanation. I think what is far more likely is this:

Yes, the secret camera footage is real all right. But the bloated, pasty-faced trougher in the expensive shirt and jacket prostituting his services at a Chinese restaurant just can’t be Tim Yeo. I’d say it’s a spookily convincing doppelganger, genetically engineered by the Koch Brothers – or possibly Exxon – in order to make the global warming industry look corrupt and evil and dishonest and vile.

Poor Tim Yeo. My thoughts go out to him at this difficult time – as I hope yours do too.

Related posts:

  1. Lilley sticks it to ‘Trougher’ Yeo
  2. ‘Trougher’ Yeo recants on global warming
  3. We need to talk about wind farms…
  4. CCX lay offs: You’d need a heart of stone not to laugh…

 

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