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To those among the Gentle Readership who had hoped this Friday might pass without incident, without outrage, and without the discovery that their supper contained considerably less lamb than advertised – this Author offers her sincerest regrets. The day has other plans entirely.
We begin with the gravest matter first, and This Author does not reach for wit here, only for something approaching measured fury. The Court of Appeal has at last corrected a sentence that had, upon its original pronouncement, caused the Kingdom to exhale in collective disbelief. Two boys, convicted of raping two girls on two separate occasions in Fordingbridge, Hampshire, and who had the particular cruelty to film their crimes, were handed non-custodial sentences by Judge Rowland at trial. The Court of Appeal, presided over by Lady Chief Justice Baroness Carr, has now corrected that error – sentencing the pair to four years’ detention. The mother of one victim, a girl this column shall call Jazmine, told the Broadcasting Society that the new sentence was “better but not enough.” Four years for a lifetime of trauma. Lord Hermer, the Attorney General, was right to refer those original sentences as unduly lenient. The court was right to change them. And yet the arithmetic remains, as Jazmine’s mother observed with a dignity that shames the rest of us, deeply, painfully insufficient.
To rather lighter affairs – though not, one suspects, lighter in caloric content. The Crown’s Crime Investigators have revealed the existence of an international network of men co-ordinating, sharing, and celebrating the drugging and violation of women in their own homes, echoing with horrifying familiarity the case of Gisèle Pelicot in France. Two hundred and seventy individuals have been identified, eight arrests made in the Kingdom, and investigators from Brazil, Canada, France, Hungary, the Netherlands, Spain, and the American Colonies have convened in the Capital to share intelligence. Eight victims have been identified and supported. This Author has no quip to offer. Only the observation that the word “network” has rarely felt so sinister, and the hope that the fourteen investigations now launched proceed with all possible urgency.
And now, the nation’s most eagerly anticipated prime minister-in-waiting condescends to give his first media interview. Lord Burnham, widely expected to replace Lord Starmer at the Prime Minister’s Residence before the month is out, appeared upon LBC to assure the Kingdom that he will be frightfully responsible with its money. He spoke of raising levies on great warehouses to fund cuts for pubs and independent retailers, of honouring the manifesto pledges on VAT, income tax, and national insurance, and of his rock-solid stewardship of Greater Manchester’s finances. “Some room for movement on tax,” he declared, with the careful confidence of a man who has measured the room very precisely and intends to move only slightly. His critics on the left wish him to borrow more freely. His instincts, it seems, run rather more cautious. The Gentle Reader may judge for themselves whether this is wisdom or timidity – this Author merely notes that for a man who has not yet arrived at the Prime Minister’s Residence, Lord Burnham has already learnt the politician’s supreme art: saying a great deal whilst committing to very little.
Speaking of committing to very little, Lord Starmer has performed a splendid volte-face on the matter of pub licensing hours. Having solemnly declared that no further relaxation of licensing laws would be granted for the World Cup, he reversed course entirely on Thursday afternoon to announce that pubs in the Southern Kingdom and the Principality may now remain open until five o’clock in the morning on Monday – permitting football supporters to watch the Southern Kingdom face Mexico at that ungodly hour of one a.m., when the match kicks off in Mexico City. “Football might be coming home,” quipped Lord Starmer, “but we’re making sure fans don’t have to.” This Author applauds the joke – genuinely – whilst observing that a government which requires six weeks of public consultation to extend opening hours by two hours managed to reverse its own position within a single afternoon. Democracy: always full of surprises.
And finally, a scandal that strikes at the very heart of late-night dining. The Broadcasting Society has revealed that Kismet Kebabs, one of the Kingdom’s largest doner kebab producers, sold products labelled as containing up to eighty-seven per cent lamb that DNA testing found to contain less than ten per cent sheep. The remaining composition – and do steel yourselves, Gentle Readers – included goat, skin, and fat. The firm, fined £500,000 after admitting to fraud dating to 2021 and estimated to have profited some £6 million from the arrangement, has attributed the matter to “historical events” under “different leadership.” Trading standards officers in Swansea deserve enormous credit for their rather remarkable career choice of DNA-testing doner meat. The horsemeat scandal of 2013 is the obvious comparison. This Author can only conclude that the Kingdom’s late-night takeaway industry operates under the working principle that hunger is the finest seasoning, and that a gentleman sufficiently famished at two in the morning will not inquire too closely into the phylogeny of his supper.
I am, as ever, your most devoted observer – Lady Whistledown.