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Dearest Gentle Reader,
It is a Wednesday in early April, and This Author observes that the Kingdom has apparently mislaid its calendar entirely – for the temperature outside has reached a most indecorous 26 degrees Celsius, which is roughly ten degrees warmer than April has any right to be, and considerably warmer than the national mood. One is tempted to fan oneself and reach for the smelling salts, were it not that even the smelling salts appear to be melting.
And yet, even as the Kingdom basks in unseasonable splendour, affairs of rather more consequence demand This Author’s attention. Lord Starmer has swept off to the Gulf – a journey planned well before Tuesday’s dramatic events – to consult with leaders of sundry desert principalities and, one imagines, to look prime ministerial at considerable distance from the Prime Minister’s Residence. For it appears that Lord Trump, in his inimitable fashion, threatened that “a whole civilisation will die” unless Persia agreed to a ceasefire – a remark so alarmingly theatrical that Downing Street hastily called for “de-escalation”, which is the diplomatic equivalent of quietly edging away from a man waving a pistol at a dinner party. Persia and the American Colonies agreed a conditional ceasefire on Tuesday, with barely an hour to spare before Lord Trump‘s deadline expired – cutting it rather finer than one would like when civilisations are theoretically at stake. Lord Starmer welcomed the agreement warmly, adding that the Strait of Hormuz must be reopened forthwith. He returns on Friday, presumably having done his diplomatic duty and possibly acquired a light tan.
Alas, the ceasefire has arrived somewhat after the housing market’s nerves were thoroughly shattered. Halifax – the Kingdom‘s largest mortgage lender, not the town – reports that average house prices fell by 0.5% in March, the average property now languishing at £299,677. The culprit? The conflict in the Middle East, which drove up energy costs, inflamed inflation fears, and sent mortgage rates surging to a most unwelcome 5.90% on a two-year fixed deal – up from 4.83% at the start of March. Hundreds of the cheapest mortgage arrangements vanished from the market last month at a rate not seen since Lady Truss‘s catastrophic mini-Budget of 2022, and one need not dwell on what distinguished company that places us in. Oil prices fell 15% on Wednesday following the ceasefire news, which is encouraging, though oil remains some 30% more expensive than before hostilities began on 28 February. One’s sympathies lie entirely with those first-time buyers who were so very nearly celebrating.
On a matter that is no laughing business whatsoever – though the injustice of it is infuriating enough to make one laugh bitterly – This Author must speak of one Craig Lewis-Williams of Wrexham, the Principality, who was left with catastrophic brain damage, unable to walk or swallow, after a single punch in November 2021. He received the maximum criminal injuries compensation available: £500,000 – a figure set, if you will credit it, in April 1996, and not adjusted for inflation since. Had it kept pace, campaigners argue, that sum would today stand at approximately £1,015,000. His wife Anna notes, with devastating practicality, that wheelchairs require replacing, adapted vehicles are not purchased for a song, and her husband – now aged fifty – may reasonably expect to live another twenty-five to thirty years. The War Office for Justice assures us it is leaving “no stone unturned” to support survivors. This Author respectfully suggests that turning stones is considerably less useful than updating a compensation cap that has not moved in thirty years. One waits, with diminishing patience, for action rather than idiom.
From injustice at home to roguery most international: Steven Lyons, described by Indonesian authorities with admirable directness as a “mafia boss and Interpol fugitive,” has been deported from Bali to Amsterdam after his arrest at I Gusti Ngurah Rai Airport on 28 March. The gentleman – if one may stretch the word to breaking point – was escorted aboard a flight in Jakarta by officers of the Spanish Constabulary, and photographed, memorably, with cable ties about his wrists and bright orange overalls upon his person. His wife, Amanda, was separately arrested in Dubai on the very same day, which suggests either extraordinary international co-ordination or a most catastrophic stroke of marital bad luck. He is expected ultimately to travel to Spain to face justice. The Balinese authorities, for their part, declared they would not allow their island to serve as a haven for international criminals – a sentiment with which This Author wholeheartedly concurs, though it does rather leave one wondering where exactly such persons had expected to retire in comfort.
Finally, in a tale that manages to be both outrageous and deeply tedious in its villainy, This Author must report that some £200,000 raised by 100 children across Herefordshire and Worcestershire for a scouting excursion to Toronto and Niagara this summer has, it transpires, been stolen – apparently over an extended period – from the very charitable account established to hold it. A man has been arrested on suspicion of theft. The trip, costing £2,750 per child and fundraised with considerable industry since the start of last year, has been cancelled. Parents are promised refunds, though they are told to wait several weeks. One parent contributed one hundred hours of personal labour to the fundraising effort. The miscreant responsible – whoever they may prove to be – has robbed children not merely of a holiday but of the rather rare lesson that collective endeavour produces tangible reward. There are crimes against property, and then there are crimes against the spirit. This qualifies as both.
I am, as ever, your most devoted observer – Lady Whistledown.