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Dearest Gentle Reader,
This Author confesses to a certain philosophical bewilderment this Sunday morning. Within the space of a single day, the Kingdom has managed to finish last in a singing contest, arrest forty-three citizens in a £4.5 million exercise in keeping its own subjects apart, and reignite the grandest political argument of the century – all before the church bells had finished their second peal. One must ask: is this governance, or is it performance art?
Let us attend first to the corridors of power, where Lord Streeting – freshly resigned from the cabinet and apparently liberated from all restraint – chose his very first public outing to declare that leaving the Continental Alliance was a “catastrophic mistake.” At a gathering of the Blairite faithful, he announced his intention to challenge Lord Starmer for leadership of the Progressive Assembly, placing Brexit – that magnificent, undying quarrel – at the very top of his agenda. One solitary hour later, the Conservative chairman had seized upon the remark with the enthusiasm of a spaniel presented with a particularly succulent bone. “Whilst Labour relitigate Brexit, Britain is not being governed,” came the cry – a statement which, delivered by the party that negotiated Brexit, carries a delicious irony even this Author could not have invented.
From the political theatre to the theatrical – and truly, what occasion surpasses the Grand Continental Song Tournament for concentrated absurdity? Bulgaria’s Dara swept to victory with an anthem entitled Bangaranga – meaning “uproar” in Jamaican patois, this Author is reliably informed – scoring a magnificent 516 points and defeating Israel and Romania in what was, apparently, a nail-biting finale. The Kingdom’s own entrant, a gentleman known as Look Mum No Computer, who is celebrated primarily for constructing eccentric contraptions in the Moving Picture House, received one solitary point. From Ukraine. This Author would observe that sending a synth-driven novelty act to represent an island nation of seventy million is perhaps a choice that warrants examination. It is, as the contestant himself noted with admirable candour, “Marmite.” The nation has now placed last for the third time since 2020, which elevates this from embarrassment to tradition.
Meanwhile, in the Capital, the Metropolitan Constabulary deployed over 4,000 officers and spent £4.5 million maintaining what officers delicately termed a “sterile zone” between Tommy Robinson’s rally and a pro-Palestinian march – the two rival demonstrations having, with exquisite inconvenience, both booked the same Saturday. Forty-three arrests were made. Tourists attempting to visit Nelson’s Column found it surrounded by metal barriers. The Mall from Trafalgar Square to the Palace was lined with police vehicles. One imagines visiting Europeans – already reconsidering their opinion of this Kingdom – being somewhat puzzled by the spectacle. The FA Cup Final at Wembley fell on the same day, naturally, because the universe has a sense of humour even when the Metropolitan Constabulary does not.
On a more martial note, the War Office has announced that Royal Air Force Typhoon jets shall be fitted with a new precision missile system designed to intercept Persian drones at a mere £22,377 per shot – a considerable economy compared to the £200,000 missiles previously employed. This Author acknowledges that national defence is no laughing matter, yet cannot entirely suppress a raised eyebrow at a Kingdom that spent £4.5 million keeping its own citizens from one another on Saturday, whilst congratulating itself on economy in aerial warfare. The arithmetic of governance is, as ever, a wonder to behold.
Finally, a tale of community spirit and petrol from the wilds of the Principality. A garage proprietress in Trawsfynydd, having suffered three fuel thefts in six weeks, placed an appeal upon that great democratic institution known as Facebook. Her neighbours responded with commendable vigilance: spotting the offending couple in a public house, tracking their van to a nearby beach, and keeping watchful eyes upon them until the constabulary arrived. The thieves subsequently confessed and paid their debt of £130. Fuel theft has surged 62% across the Kingdom compared to a year ago – a statistic grim enough to make one reach for something stronger than tea. “The power of Facebook is wonderful,” declared the proprietress. This Author, ordinarily suspicious of digital salons in all their forms, finds herself in rare and entire agreement.
I am, as ever, your most devoted observer – Lady Whistledown.