The 50 Greatest Books I've Ever Read

1. Divorce, Suicide and Other Forms of Closure by Ingmar Schnitzel (short story collection)
2. The Tyranny of Soap by Martin Loofah
3. Legs: Your Forgotten Friends by Perry Ambulate
4. Oliver Twist Rides Again by Charles Dickens (no relation)
5. Oliver Twist Goes to Monte Carlo by Charles Dickens (still no relation)
6. Haiku Mania (poetry anthology)
7. Yellow is the Color of Cowards and Sick by Sax Rohmer
8. This Banana is Loaded by Aurora Snark
9. Bucephalus Doesn't Live Here Anymore by Lawrence Equine
10. Harry Potter and the TERF Defamation Wars by J. K. Rowling
11. Gangrene vs. Mould: A War of Attrition by Siegfried Götterdämmerung
12. Stormy Jockstrap by Jackie Collins
13. Paper: A User Guide (pamphlet)
14. Five Go to the Planet of the Apes by Enid Blyton
15. Why Does it Hurt When I Watch You Pee? by Frank Zappa Jr.
16. The Complete Works of Shakespeare by Christopher Marlowe
17. Applied Heuristics in A.E.N. Language Structures by Prof. Jeremy Magrs
18. Heuristics for Beginners by Prof. Paul Hoad
19. The Oxford English Dictionary
20. Velcro for Dummies
21. Roger Moore's Breath Smells Like Coffee and Old Leather by Albert "Cubby" Broccoli (memoir)
22. Prepucially Challenged by Howard Stern
23. Euphemisms Aren't the Only How's Your Father by Chortle Gusset
24. The Glory of Nylon by Dame Cynthia Croptop
25. I've Never Seen So Many Carrots by Stephenie Meyer
26. Bum Party by Col. Arnold Trubshaw (Rtd.)
27. The Dandy Christmas Annual 1993
28. Eagles May Soar But Weasels Don't Get Sucked into Jet Engines (trainee pilots' handbook)
29. WordJam by Richard English (plug)
30. Eggbound in Paris and London - George Offal
31. Oliver Twist Meets the Wolfman by Charles Dickens (the other one)
32. Tawdry Otters by Aldous Huxley
33. Pork Scratchings for Christmas by Mrs Beeton
34. Chairman Mao's Vasectomy by Rev. Ernst Blofeld
35. Nancy Drew in Bangkok by Carolyn Keene
36. The Oranges, Lemons and the Bells of St. Clement's are All Bastards by Richmal Crompton
37. The Shetland Pony Murders by P. D. James
38. Transformers: Dark of the Moon by Michael Morpurgo (novelisation)
39. Crazy Paving: The Silent Killer (safety poster)
40. Donkey Hotel by Miguel de Cervantes (pidgin English translation)
41. Tintin at the Nuremberg Trials by Hergé
42. Tintin in Spandau Prison by Hergé
43. Tintin Refuses the Blindfold by Hergé
44. Wedgefast and Trouser: A Gentleman's Guide by Alexander McQueen
45. Laughing Gear: My Life in Comedy by Noam Chomsky
46. Docile Phlanges by Lillian Muffwrangler
47. Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People Who've Read 'Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race' by Coleman Hughes
48. Doctor Who: Privilege of the Daleks by Paul Cornell
49. Shit Happens (car sticker)
50. An Apple a Day is Another Victory for Our Reptilian Overlords by David Icke

Welcome to the Future

As you were.

The UK Introduces New Rules on Social Distancing

Evenin' all! Sergeant Etchasketch here from the Everyborough Metropolitan Police Force. As you're no doubt aware, new Covid measures will be enacted in England from Monday making it illegal for more than six people from different households to hold social gatherings. Since this will be enforced by Her Majesty's Constabulary, rest assured in-between overseeing Defund the Police marches, taking the knee at Black Lives Matter rallies, standing idly by while a bunch of middle-class environmental activists disrupt people's livelihoods and slapping peaceful anti-mask demonstrators with excessive fines, my colleagues and I will be out in force the length and breadth of the land keeping an eye out for anybody flouting these safety measures. How we're going to enforce it in pubs and restaurants is anyone's guess, of course, but it's not for the police to ask questions: we just follow whoever's shouting the loudest.

Oh, and one more thing. Now the economy's going into freefall and unemployment's on the rise you may be anxious that these new precautions represent both a backwards step on the road to recovery and a dangerous erosion of our civil liberties. Well, let me assure you that as long as you keep your head down, avoid making eye contact with quota-obsessed, cavalier police officers, don't say anything negative about lockdown on social media and, more importantly, stay indoors, England's as free and healthy a country as any other to live right now. Goodnight all! And don't have nightmares...

Alexei Navalny: The Burden of Proof

Well here we are again, folks: another alleged 'hit' by the Russian State that raises more questions than it answers. And like the dutiful little MI6/CIA sock-puppets they are, British and US news outlets are busy dusting off speculative stories about the actual and attempted murders of Anna Politkovskaya, Alexander Litvinenko, Boris Nemtsov and Sergei and Yulia Skripal to add a little spice to what is otherwise a fairly patchy narrative. Okay, the west's coverage of Alexei Navalny's anti-corruption campaigns and failed attempts at taking political office have always been absurdly light on facts, but this recent attempt to elevate him to near-martyr status is just a joke. But, be that as it may, we're not here to discuss his cynical, opportunistic ethnonationalism - that's a story for another day. Instead, I just want to share a few brief thoughts on some angles the MSM has wilfully overlooked in its rush to pin Navalny's purported Novichok poisoning on the Russian State.

1. Novichok

According to the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons, Novichok is not only designed to be undetectable but is five times more potent than Sarin (which, regardless of the level of exposure, kills within ten minutes). If it was slipped into Navalny's now-famous pre-flight cup of tea, why did it take so long to act and how were German doctors able to identify it? (See also the Skripal poisonings.)

2. A Potential Threat?

According to a recent Levada Center poll, Navalny's approval rating in Russia is a lowly 3% - some way behind the Liberal Democratic Party candidate Vladimir Zhirinovsky at 13%, Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin at 60% and Putin at 66%. In addition, the results of the recent constitutional reform bill seem to suggest the majority of Russians are happy to hold onto Putin for the time being. It's quite clear, then, that Navalny isn't someone the Kremlin needs to worry about. But if we take the MSM's line that he does constitute a threat regardless of his marginal status, why didn't they kill him during one of his spells in prison? Given his outspoken Islamophobia, it wouldn't have been difficult having him murdered and blaming it on a Chechen inmate. Basic.

3. International Relations

Just two weeks ago, Angela Merkel complained about the US placing economic pressure on Germany over the Nord Stream 2 pipeline. If it can be proved "unequivocably" the Russian State poisoned Navalny then why allow him to be taken to Germany for treatment when that would almost certainly sabotage the future of the project and risk further sanctions? (This, I would say, is the most logical argument against the 'gaslighting' narrative the media are fond of trotting out, although, bizarrely, it doesn't seem to have stopped them on this occasion.)

4. Belarus

With the protests in Belarus and the potential ousting of Lukashenko (who, regardless of what the media says, isn't exactly on the Kremlin's Christmas card list), the eyes of the world are currently looking towards Eastern Europe. Again, if Putin genuinely had something to fear from Navalny then why would you try and take him out so publicly when everyone's watching? This is the ultimate example of Russophrenia, where Putin and his administration are made out to be two conflicting things at the same time (in this case, clandestine and brazen, which is a hell of an achievement). And last but not least:

5. The Wild Card

Russia's just developed and patented a coronavirus vaccine, which, if successful, could bring a considerable revenue stream into the country. Naturally there are competing interests from other parties, so it's not too much of a leap to suggest an oh-so convenient scandal like this could lead to western nations boycotting Russian know-how and allowing another country to take the lead instead. This may be a conspiracy theory, but you've got to admit it's a lot easier to swallow than the cod-psychology and doublethink of the media's narrative.

* * *

Now before anybody out there accuses me of being a 'Russian bot', a 'Kremlin Stooge' or any of those other epithets people throw around to shut down debate (and believe me, I've had quite a few emails to that effect over the last couple of years) I'm not saying Russia's political system is without its problems or Putin is an unblemished saint, but this endless zero-sum game of smears, taunts and misinformation is not going to end well for anyone if we allow it to continue. With the US tearing up arms limitation treaties like they're going out of fashion and NATO pushing ever closer to Russia's borders we're going to have to wake up to the fact pretty soon that there are only so many times you can bait the bear before it bites back. Consider yourselves warned.

WordJam Message Board: Special Discussion

 Today's Topic: Is Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion's WAP empowering for women?

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - August 17, 18:21
i think its impowerring. every1 shud hav the inter net on there phone not jus men

RussiaBot1917 - August 17, 18:22
It's a song, moron.

JUstinBieberLover3988865592 - August 17, 18:25
oh ok

MelGibsonIsGod - August 17, 18:32
I watched the video on You Tube and it gave me such a boner I had to put on the crucifixion scene from Passion Of The Christ to calm down. That did'nt work and I ended up whacking off to the bit where the Romans hit Jesus with hammers. This song should be banned.

RainbowPrincess456 - August 17, 18:43
Empowering for women?! Are you KIDDING??!! This is THE most feminist, sex positive, LGBQIA+-inclusive track EVER!!!!!!! The haterz are just butthurt, white-male boomer conservatives who are afraid of BAME womxn of all genders.

Biden2020 - August 17, 18:50
Amen, sister! I bet Trump's quaking in his boots right now. The lesson here is you don't grab the pussy, the pussy grabs YOU!

RussiaBot1917 - August 17, 18:53
If it's meant to be so empowering to women why is the video full of lesbian action? Answer: it's designed for teenage boys to choke the chicken to. Wake up and smell the corporate coffee, sheeple.

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - August 17, 19:07
(((They))) are promoting non-procreational sex to eliminate us from the gene pool.

Biden2020 - August 17, 19:12
Who are?

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - August 17, 19:14
(((Little Hat Wearers)))

RussiaBot1917 - August 17, 19:17
The Chinese?

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - August 17, 19:18
No

RussiaBot1917 - August 17, 19:19
Leprechauns?

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - August 17, 19:20
FFS

KarenKilla - August 17, 19:32
@RainbowPrincess456: TERF bitch.

RainbowPrincess456 - August 17, 19:46
How am I a TERF?

KarenKilla - August 17, 19:51
It's LGBTQIA+ not LGBQIA+. Don't you recognise Trans people in your evil, cis-privileged world, or do you want to have them all wiped out like the gender absolutist little feminazi you obviously are?

RainbowPrincess456 - August 17, 20:02
That was a typo. It wasn't intentional. I have nothing but love and respect for the Trans community. I'm so sorry if I offended you. I really didn't mean to upset anyone. From now on I will proof read all my comments before posting them to make sure they are as inclusive as they can possibly be.

Biden2020 - August 17, 20:04
Don't worry about it! We all make mistakes :)

KarenKilla - August 17, 20:07
@RainbowPrincess456: Spare us your tears of privilege, TERF. People like you are worse than a thousand Hitler's.

BLM4EVA1865 - August 17, 20:11
@RainbowPrincess456: And it's not BAME, it's BIPOC. Educate yourself, you race-baiting fuck.

Biden2020 - August 17, 20:14
@RainbowPrincess456: Thinking about it, I find your blatent transphobia and racism deeply upsetting. You should be ashamed of yourself.

KarenKilla - August 17, 20:23
@RainbowPrincess456: If I ever find out your real name, where you live and what you look like I'm coming round to unload both barrels of a shotgun in your face, you sick, evil bitch. BELIEVE.

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - August 17, 21:57
i jus watched it on you tube with the sound down so mom wudnt hear. its ok but its no blurred lines

A Wild and Crazy Guy: Steve Martin at 75

I've been planning on writing something about Steve Martin on WordJam for a while now, but I could never quite figure out what. A couple of film reviews, perhaps, or a retrospective of his novels and short story collections? Maybe an article about his music career? When you're dealing with a polymath it's hard to know where to start. Anyway, when I found out his 75th birthday was coming up I knew I had to do something to mark it. Martin's been one of my heroes since I was a kid, and alongside Peter Cook he's one of the single biggest influences on my own writing and stand-up.

I can't say with any certainty exactly when I first discovered Steve, but my earliest memory of him is from Little Shop of Horrors. Like most people of my generation who were children in the '80s that movie was required viewing in the halcyon days of cheap, mass-produced VCRs and rental shops. It wasn't until I was about nine or ten that I saw The Man with Two Brains, which without doubt was the funniest movie I'd ever seen up to that point. It was grown-up and childish, smutty and smart: perfect fare for a kid who enjoyed putting on funny voices to amuse his classmates. Although most childhood passions are fickle, my admiration for Martin never faded in my teenage years or beyond. Sure, I got exasperated with his film choices sometimes (I can just about bring myself to sit through Father of the Bride II or Cheaper by the Dozen again on a wet Sunday afternoon, which is more than I can say for Sgt. Bilko or The Pink Panther), but whenever I put on Let's Get Small, Three Amigos or even Shopgirl I still find myself bowled over by the range and quality of his work. I mean, how many comedians can you think of who are masters in slapstick, surrealism and satire?

So, as a little personal tribute I decided to do a rundown of my top ten Steve Martin films. There may be a few surprises here (spoiler: Parenthood didn't make the list, which certainly surprised me), but I think you'll agree the following titles demonstrate just what a rich legacy Steve has carved throughout his career. And if on the off-chance you're reading this, Steve, here's wishing you a happy birthday and a heartfelt thanks for all the memories.

* * * * *



10.

Pennies from Heaven

(d. Herbert Ross, 1981)

This big screen adaptation of Dennis Potter's ground-breaking BBC drama serial may lack the inventiveness and sophistication of the original, but Martin's superb performance as adulterous songsheet salesman Arthur Parker brings charm and emotional depth to what could easily have been a soulless, alienating blockbuster. Martin later reflected that the film's poor box office performance was down to audiences expecting The Jerk 2 instead of a Brechtian musical drama, but in retrospect Pennies from Heaven is an important chapter in the canon of Martin's work as it gives us an early glimpse of his aptitude at both subtle comedy and serious drama. And boy, can this guy dance.

9.

Little Shop of Horrors

(d. Frank Oz, 1986)

It's evidence of Martin's chops as a character actor that he's in Little Shop of Horrors for less than ten minutes yet still manages steal the entire film. Martin was perfect casting for the arrogant, sadistic Orin Scrivello, recalling the smarmy egotist persona he developed in his stand-up routines. We also get to see Martin appear onscreen alongside Bill Murray again, whose gleeful masochism leads to one of the most subversive and downright bizarre sequences in '80s cinema. On a side note, when I was growing up I knew many people who had an aversion to visiting the dentist after watching Little Shop of Horrors. If that's not the mark of a great movie monster I don't know what is.

8.

L.A. Story

(d. Mick Jackson, 1991)

There's a distinct Woody Allen vibe to L.A. Story that's hard to ignore. We get an unfulfilled intellectual frustrated by the vapidity of modern culture, a burgeoning romance with a beautiful, talented woman whose personal life is fraught with complications and a metaphysical plot device that draws attention to both the film's themes and the protagonist's emotional dilemma. So far, so Play It Again, Sam; The Purple Rose of Cairo; Oedipus Wrecks, etc. But Martin's imaginative world is the flipside of Allen's, revelling in infinite possibilities and hopefulness while taking joy from the absurd and banal. L.A. Story is perhaps the purest distillation of this life philosophy, and modestly profound to boot.

7.
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
(d. Frank Oz, 1988)

I've never been a fan of Michael Caine's work, but the chemistry he shares with Martin in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is absolutely palpable. Caine's roguish charm as a con artist looking to cheat an American heiress out of her fortune is expertly counterbalanced by Martin's sleazy, smalltime hustler, transforming a relatively straightforward caper movie into a comedy masterclass. It's a shame there hasn't been another vehicle for Caine and Martin, but lightning rarely strikes twice. Besides, as the film fades on the closing credits we know exactly what the future holds in store for these two brilliantly written, beautifully played characters - the cinema in our mind's eye takes care of that.

6.

Roxanne

(d. Fred Schepisi, 1987)

Martin's witty resetting of Edmond Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac is that rarest of beasts: a romantic comedy that follows logic rather than genre convention. There are no contrivances here; the characters are so textured that the plot flows organically from their actions instead of relying on barely disguised narrative impositions. It's a surprise, then, that Roxanne rarely seems to feature in lists of great romantic comedies. In its own quiet, understated way, this delightful film is equally as important as, say, Roman Holiday or Annie Hall in redefining what is often regarded as a throwaway or undemanding genre. It also boasts Martin's best acting performance, perfectly matched by the ever-wonderful Daryl Hannah.

5.

Bowfinger

(d. Frank Oz, 1999)

By the late '90s Martin wasn't quite the box office draw he had been earlier in the decade. As a new generation of comic talent emerged, Martin and many of his contemporaries found themselves facing diminishing returns or being sidelined completely. With this in mind, the story of down-on-his-luck film producer Bobby Bowfinger trying for one last shot at the big time is as close to a confessional as you can get. Martin's screenplay brims with humanity and affection for its ragtag collection of oddball characters who make up the also-rans and never-weres on the Hollywood fringe. Unlike other Tinseltown exposés, Bowfinger manages to deconstruct the showbusiness myth without bitterness or recrimination, making it one of the most singular (and therefore entertaining) film industry satires.

4.

The Man with Two Brains

(d. Carl Reiner, 1983)

In many ways, The Man with Two Brains marks the apotheosis of Martin's attempt to bring his own unique comic style to the big screen. No other film he made after this would be as chock-a-block with ludicrous flights of fantasy, absurd visual gags and delirious wordplay. Indeed, not even his previous films took such an 'everything but the kitchen sink' approach. If this was intended as a last hurrah before moving onto more commercial projects, and it certainly feels that way, then The Man with Two Brains is an undisputed triumph that deserves every bit of its cult status as the '50s mad scientist B-movies that inspired it. Like Airplane! and Naked Gun, it rewards - and stands up to - repeat viewings, yielding all sorts of lunatic treasures you're likely to miss the first time round.

3.

The Jerk

(d. Carl Reiner, 1979)

The Jerk launched both Martin's film career and a whole subgenre of wilfully crude, cheerfully un-PC comedies centred around deeply flawed protagonists trying to catch a break in a world pitted against them. What sets it apart from the Adam Sandler vehicles and Farrelly Brothers' gross-outs that followed, however, is an infectious sense of defiant optimism. This simple tale of an even simpler man who leaves his black adopted family for a soul-searching trip across country knows it's crass and dumb, and possibly even offensive, but the innocence of Martin's performance and the carefully carpentered script (co-written with Carl Gottlieb and Michael Elias) never allows it to sink into mean-spiritedness. Better-polished work was to come, but the fact The Jerk remains Martin's calling card shows how high he set the bar from the outset.

2.

Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid

(d. Carl Reiner, 1982)

An affectionate send-up of film noir, Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid follows private eye Rigby Reardon as he investigates the mysterious death of a cheese tycoon. Using footage from classic movies such as The Big Sleep, Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice, Martin gets to share the screen with the likes of Humphrey Bogart, Ava Gardner, Charles Laughton and Joan Crawford as he finds himself sinking deeper into a world of heavies, murder plots and fifth columnists. The collage effect is seamless, never once spoiling the illusion we actually could be watching a movie from the '30s or '40s. I have absolutely no idea how Martin, Reiner and George Gipe even began writing the screenplay for this, but with so many great one-liners and comedy set-pieces on display it's churlish picking it apart. A criminally overlooked gem.

1.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

(d. John Hughes, 1987)

Planes, Trains and Automobiles may be John Hughes' masterpiece and features the late, great John Candy's finest role, but consider Martin's contribution for a moment. Here you have the best comedian of his generation playing the antagonistic straight man to a larger than life, loquacious lug. It would have been easy for Martin to hijack the film by leaping on every humourous or emotional beat that presented itself to steal the limelight from his co-star; it's a testament, then, to both his generosity and intuitiveness as a performer that he lets Candy take the lead, trusts the material and shapes his characterisation accordingly. As a result, this riotously funny, endlessly quotable and deeply poignant tale of two mismatched personalities trying to make their way home for Thanksgiving effortlessly slides into the front-rank of buddy movies and sets a gold standard for cinematic double acts. If you don't have a tear in your eye or a song in your heart when the credits roll you're dead inside.

* * *

But no tribute to Steve would be complete without mentioning his television appearances over the years. From The Smothers Brothers' Comedy Hour to Saturday Night Live and The David Letterman Show, there's a fantastic treasure-trove of sketches and routines to rediscover or explore. I'll leave you for now with my personal favourite, first broadcast on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson in '92. I've always been envious of comedians who can incorporate pathos into their act, but being able to tug at people's heartstrings while your flies are undone is the mark of a genius.

© NBC

William Hazlitt: Messages for Posterity

William Hazlitt (self-portrait, 1802)

"Rules and models destroy genius and art."

                                                           - William Hazlitt, On Originality (1817)

If George Orwell was once memorably described as a man who "can't blow his nose without reflecting on the state of the British handkerchief industry," the same can be said of William Hazlitt (1778-1830), one of the most gifted and controversial authors of his time. Like Orwell, Hazlitt wasn't censorious or a moraliser; his journalism presented complex ideas with acute insight and a fresh, unique style. Today, he is considered a sideline figure in Romanticism, the literary and artistic movement that swept across Europe in the late 18th century. But it should be noted, of course, that Romanticism is largely the invention of 20th century academia. There was no actual movement at the time (at least, not in England), and even if there were Hazlitt would certainly not have considered himself a part of it. As we will see, he stood alone against trends and fashions. Another great irony of Hazlitt's reputation is the relatively minor status he is afforded by modern critics, despite the fact his essays and articles appeared in national magazines before many of his poetic peers had even reached print. The time has surely come for a reckoning: for William Hazlitt to finally be recognised as one of the most important English intellectuals of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, and for his legacy as a free-thinker to be recognised in an era of fake news, identity politics and cancel culture. In fact, there could hardly be a more apt figure to help us navigate our way through these complicated and polarising times than Hazlitt.

In the late 18th century the word 'romantic' was not a complimentary term. It stood for ideas that were fanciful, impractical or inconsequential. Even Thomas Paine, the great polemicist, and now considered one of the first flowerings of English Romanticism, used the phrase derisively to describe state hierarchy in his influential pamphlet The Rights of Man (1791). This was the Age of Reason, where cultural and scientific advances imposed rigid structures of order and logic on art, literature and philosophy. The political landscape was particularly repressive. In England, the Tory administration under William Pitt was notorious for its savage economic policies, leading British citizens (mostly comprised of working-class labourers) towards high taxation, high inflation and mass unemployment. But in comparison with France, at least England had the illusion of democracy. The appalling poverty endured by Frence citizens was a direct result of the despotic sovereignty of Louis XVI, whose luxurious lifestyle was such a drain on state funds it practically bankrupted the country. Events in Paris from July 1789, however, were to shake the foundations of European society. This was the beginning of the French Revolution, where the central concepts of liberté, egalité and fraternité were to strike a powerful chord of dissension and expose the hypocrisy of the so-called Age of Enlightenment. It was this idea of individual liberty through both political freedom and that of the imagination which marked the birth of Romanticism. The French Revolution may have been the catalyst which sparked this new thinking, but (to mix metaphors for a moment) the seed of dissent had aleady been planted by the American War of Independence some fourteen years earlier - and it was William Hazlitt's first-hand exposure to the complex emotions surrounding that conflict which spurred him towards radicalism.

Hazlitt was born in Maidstone, Kent, the son of an Unitarian minister. In 1780, Hazlitt's father so outraged his congregation by openly advocating the American Revolutionary War that he was forced to move the family to Bandon in Ireland. It was there, after meeting American prisoners of war, that William Hazlitt Snr. made the decision to move Unitariansism to the United States, establishing the first church there in 1783. Returning to England a year later, the family settled in Wem, Shropshire, where the young Hazlitt was groomed for a life in the ministry. After a brief period studying at the Unitarian College in Hackney, exposed to the radical philosophies of Helévitus and D'Holbach, Hazlitt renounced the prospect of joining the church. His decision to become an author was cemented in January 1798 when he witnessed Samuel Taylor Coleridge preaching in Shrewsbury. It was through his aquaintance with Coleridge that Hazlitt was introduced to William Wordsworth and Charles Lamb. Hazlitt would later immortalise his long conversations with these men in his essay My First Acquaintance with Poets (1823), one of the most beautifully composed portraits of these writers in the language. Lamb, who was to become alongside Coleridge a lifelong friend, was sufficiently impressed by Hazlitt's articulacy and enthusiasm to offer him a post on The Morning Chronicle. The parliamentary reports and theatrical reviews he wrote for that paper brought him to the attention of more prestigious magazines such as The Examiner and London Magazine; it was through these publications that Hazlitt was to make his name as both a controversial personality and original thinker.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1804) by James Northcote

Hazlitt's style was honed through the deployment of non-ornamental language, coupled with the use of aphorism, as a means to intellectual enquiry, often lending his writing a direct, almost theatrical flavour. One piece begins with the title 'What is the People?', only to be followed in the first line of the essay by " -AND who are you to ask the question?", revealing a somewhat eccentric personality at play. He described himself as a "Radical liberal" but held great sympathy for the high-Toryism of Samuel Johnson. He preferred the rustic serenity of Constable to the frenetic seascapes of Turner. In 1825, when asked to write a review of the recently deciphered diaries of Samuel Pepys, he chose to write about Shakespeare instead. The extrordinary range of Hazlitt's writing, from his account of the "fine gentleman at the play [sic]" who "enters the boxes with a menacing air, as if prepared to force his way through some obstacle he resents beforehand" to his critique of Thomas Malthus and mandatory depopulation presents an insight into an enquiring mind trying to make sense of his time. But it is not contentious to argue that a number of Hazlitt's preoccupations seem highly advanced for the 19th century and strongly anticipate many of the concerns we find ourselves grappling with today.

Hazlitt was particularly suspicious of the popular press with its "flimsy circulating medium of magazines," which he claimed had reduced modern authorship to "a species of stenography." This appears a paradoxical argument when we consider Hazlitt made his name and earned a living through journalism. His supposition that "we read by proxy, we skim the cream of prose without any trouble; we get at the quintessence of poetry without loss of time" appears damning, as does his contention that "literature and civilisation have abstracted man from himself so far; and the press has been the ruin of the state." This is not a Swiftean discharge of bile, but serves to remind us of the complex relationship between author and reader, creating a direct - if imaginary - discourse between the two. By reminding us of the press' power to corrupt, and the consequences for the people who become corrupted as a result, Hazlitt asserts our personal sovereignty and freedom of thought as individual human beings. In his essay On Characteristics (1823), Hazlitt observes "Truth is not one, but many" and that "an observation may be true in itself that contradicts another equally true, according to the point-of-view from which we contemplate the subject." This is a clear reference to Relativism, a school of thought largely ignored by Enlightenment thinkers, and one which would not gain currency until the 20th century. The self-reflexity Hazlitt demonstrates throughout his writing is not just a sign of his modernity but his remarkable prescience as an author. On the Characters of Shakespeare's Plays (1817), one of Hazlitt's most celebrated essays, effectively constitutes the first series of case studies in English literature. The process of psychological examination Hazlitt employs to explain character motivation is exemplary in that he was writing at a time when no practical model of psychological analysis existed. In a similar vein, Hazlitt described his own work in the essay On the Causes of Popular Opinion (1821) as "the thoughts of a metaphysician expressed by a painter [...] subtle and difficult problems translated into hieroglyphics": an aphorism that casually pre-empts both Charles Dodgson's influential studies of symbolic logic and the Structuralist philosophy of Roland Barthes.

Hazlit's work, and, on occasion, Hazlitt himself, was often the subject of scrutiny. In Blackwood's Magazine, John Lockhart denigrated Hazlitt as a member of the "Cockney School of Poetry" - effectively describing him as illiterate and uneducated. In his day Hazlitt was the first journalist to make a living solely through his writing, so it was inevitable his detractors took great delight in his imprisonment for debt in 1822. But it was his affair with Sarah Walker, a young maid in his service, which left him all but ostracised by the literary community. The fact that she was still a minor, some 29 years younger than Hazlitt, served to confirm his image as a seditious radical dangerously loose in polite society. In an attempt to justify his obsession with Walker, Hazlitt wrote an epistolary novella purporting to represent the correspondence between the two - not so much to explain the situation to others, he stressed, but in order to understand it for himself. Liber Amoris, or the New Pygmalion was published in 1823 and was instantly vilified by the press. The critical backlash was so intense it even dwarfed Thomas De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium Eater published a year earlier. Hazlitt's reaction was to set about writing his life's work: a four-volume history of Napoleon.

Hazlitt had been present when Napoleon was brought to England aboard HMS Bellerophon in July 1815, and was surprised to find that the vanquished emperor was not the "unclassifiable being, half-African, half-Mediterranean mulatto" the Morning Post had described but well-proportioned and handsome. His admiration for Napoleon was not unusual (many Englifh people felt he had proven himself a worthy foe), but sometimes it would veer into the realm of out-and-out idolatry. J. B. Priestly described Hazlitt as a 'proto-socialist,' so his sense of awe that Napoleon could achieve so much by "sheer effort of will [...] a modern Tamburlaine" is puzzling, but then Hazlitt was aware that the question was much more interesting than the answer - representing, in the words of his literary idol Sir Francis Bacon, "a knowledge broken." That The Life of Naploeon (1828-30) fails to honour this intellectual process is unfortunate. In poor health and facing insolvency, Hazlitt rushed to complete the work by quarrying much of the information from other sources. He only lived to see the first volume published, and even that aroused fierce controversy. His account of the French Revolution provoked particular outrage. Some contemporaries were disgusted by his veneration of an act directly opposing the established social order, while others were embarrassed by his inability to engage with the facts of the Revolution: that it had overthrown a despotic monarchy only to allow an autocratic emperor to usurp executive power.

Napoleon on Board the Bellerophon (c. 1880) by Sir William Quiller Orchardson

To be fair, many of these criticisms were the by-product of a fashionable cynicism now sweeping literary society. In his early adulthood, Coleridge had been an enthusiastic supporter of the Revolution, even wrting an ode inspired by the storming of the Bastille. By 1798, he publicly declared, "I have snapped my squeaking baby-trumpet of sedition and the fragments lie in the lumber-room of penitence." In Europe, this wave of disillusionment had reached its peak. "The age treats us harshly!" Franz Schubert wrote to Caspar David Friedrich in 1810. "The young people so seemingly full of promise and energy, who some six years ago wanted to storm the intellectual skies, to bring a new blossoming of poetry and science - where have they gone?" Friedrich's response was to "find solitude in order to communicate with nature." This was the route that Wordsworth and Coleridge decided to take. Even William Blake muted the references to radical politics in his poetry. The noose had started to tighten in 1793 when William Pitt called for the ban of "wicked and seditious literature." Thomas Paine had been forced to flee after a warrant was issued for his arrest. Art and literature were now a dangerous medium to effect social change. In remaining true to his ideals, Hazlitt had set himself out of step with the literary establishment. By the time he completed the final volume of Napoleon he was a disillusioned and broken man.

When Hazlitt died in 1830 at the age of 52, a result of the years of poverty he endured, the Sarah Walker scandal had completely overshadowed his reputation as an author. Thomas Love Peacock, a former supporter turned rival, coldly declared Liber Amoris and The Life of Napoleon to be "the incoherent last musings of a sometime polemicist turned full-time libertine and whore-master." John Lockhart, meanwhile, referred back to his earlier dismissal of Hazlitt as one of the Cockney School and stated his "spent discourse was, at best, romantic" (the irony of which is that Lockhart himself has now been incorporated into the canon of English Romantic thinkers). It was not until the latter part of the 19th century that Hazlitt's reputation would undergo reassessment. Even W. C. Hazlitt, his grandson, was the victim of the long-standing grudge against him by the literary establishment. By 1889, modern literature had become a respectable field of study and many forgotten figures were reappraised. In his seminal work A History of 18th Century Literature (1890), Sir Edmund Gosse ranked Hazlitt alongside Thomas Paine, Edmund Burke and Leigh Hunt as one of the most influential and forward-thinking authors of his era.

In many ways, Hazlitt's work had not been completely ignored. It's hard to imagine William Morris' lectures on socialism or John Ruskin's art criticism without Hazlitt's influence. Throughout the 20th and early 21st centuries, Hazlitt's name has been evoked numerous times in relation to a wide range of authors. George Orwell has been classed as a direct lineal descendant of Hazlitt (his likening of Hitler on the cover of a 1946 reprint of Mein Kampf to "an image of the dying Christ" brings to mind Hazlitt's reference to Napoleon as "a modern Tamburlaine"), while Dennis Potter's television plays contain many allusions to Hazlitt's work - most notably The Confidence Course (1965), where Potter evokes the ghost of Hazlitt as a disruptive outsider at a Dale Carnegie Institute meeting. But then, Hazlitt has always been an outsider: not just within Romanticism or the literary establishment, but.within his own time With the complex arguments and issues thrown at us by the popular media today, perhaps Hazlitt has finally found his place as a true visionary.

WordJam Message Board: Special Discussion

Today's topic: Was HBO Max right to pull Gone With the Wind from its streaming service?

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - June 11, 18:41
I saw it yeers ago an didnt think it was that violant

BLM4EVA1865 - June 11, 18:42
They banned it cos it's racist, dumbass.

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - June 11, 18:47
Oh rite

justiceleague11939 - June 11, 19:03
Who cares about some 100 year old movie anyway? We got better film's now like Black Panther and Bad Boys 4 Life.

RainbowPrincess456 - June 11, 19:07
Don't forget Captain Marvel! I was disappointed she wasn't played by a trans person of color, but it was still really inspirational to see a woman finally play a lead role in a movie. #Endwhitecishetmaleprivilege

MelGibsonIsGod - June 11, 19:12
There is only one true superhero and thats Jesus.

MAGA1776 - June 11, 19:16
If Jesus could see what's going on in our country He would vomit in disgust.

Biden2020 - June 11, 19:17
Racist

MAGA1776 - June 11, 19:18
Fuck you, retard.

Biden2020 - June 11, 19:20
I know you are but what am I?

MAGA1776 - June 11, 19:21
A retard.

Biden2020 - June 11, 19:23
I know you are but what am I?

MAGA1776 - June 11, 19:24
A retard. I just told you.

Biden2020 - June 11, 19:25
I know you are but what am I?

MAGA1776 - June 11, 19:26
A FUCKING RETARD

Biden2020 - June 11, 19:27
I know you are but what am I?

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - June 11, 19:40
You're both retards if you don't know who the real (((enemy))) is...

Biden2020 - June 11, 19:43
Who?

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - June 11, 19:46
Clue: (((they))) run Hollywood...

RussiaBot1917 - June 11, 19:50
The studios?

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - June 11, 19:51
Warm...

KarenKilla - June 11, 19:58
Er, we're meant to be discussing HBO banning Gone With the Wind!!! Hello?!?

Biden2020 - June 11, 20:07
Do you think they shouldve banned it?

KarenKilla - June 11, 20:09
Obvs!!! There is no discussion. It's racist. PERIOD.

Biden2020 - June 11, 20:10
Me too.

RussiaBot1917 - June 11, 20:13
You're racist?

MAGA1776 - June 11, 20:14
LOL

Biden2020 - June 11, 20:19
No, I meant I agree it's racist and they're right to ban it.

Biden2020 - June 11, 20:20
@MAGA1776: Retard

MAGA1776 - June 11, 20:21
I know you are but what am I?

KarenKilla - June 11, 20:33
I can't believe they made it in the first place. If I'd of been alive when it came out I would of started a twitter campaign to cancel everyone involved with it.

RussiaBot1917 - June 11, 20:35
They haven't banned it, just pulled it until people stop smashing stuff up. They're gonna put it back out with a warning. Read the news before losing your shit, peeps.

Biden2020 - June 11, 20:38
Fair enough. It is a classic after all, so maybe a warning is the right way to go.

KarenKilla - June 11, 20:40
@RussiaBot1917: Racist fuck.

Biden2020 - June 11, 20:41
@RussiaBot1917: Thinking about it, that's a really racist argument. You should be ashamed of yourself.

AllCopsMustFry - June 11, 20:53
They used to process films in laboratories. And what else did they make in a laboratory? Covid-19. And who dies the most from Covid-19? BAME people. Coincidence?

KarenKilla - June 11, 21:04
We need to find out where this laboratory is and shut it down RIGHT NOW.

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - June 11, 22:58
They shud jus make seprate films for black peeple and white peeple. then everyone wud be happy

Coming this summer on BBC One...

... an exciting new season of drama!

LOCKDOWN SQUAD...

[A quiet, socially-distanced police station. Suddenly-] 

PC WATKINS: We've had a report of three people sunbathing in St. James' Park, Sarge - and they're only 1.8 metres apart!

SGT. CLARK: Quick, Watkins, we haven't got much time! Round up every patronising, overzealous junior officer you can find and get down there ASAP. We'll show those lockdown-dodgers what happens when you don't comply with deeply flawed government guidelines.

PC GRIFFITHS: But, Sarge, what if they're from the same household?

SGT. CLARK: I don't make the rules, son. I just abuse them...

 LOVE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS...

[Cut to a young couple video-dating.]
 
TREV: Simone, there's- there's something I have to tell you...

SIMONE: What is it-?

TREV: These last two months have been the happiest of my life.

SIMONE: Me, too, Trev!

TREV: Talking to you makes everything feel new again, as though all that shit going on outside doesn't seem to matter. It's like there's a whole new world waiting for us when this thing blows over. And when we can finally venture outside and meet each other, it'll be ours for the taking.

SIMONE: Oh, Trev - that's beautiful!

TREV: I love you, Simone.

SIMONE: And I love you...

[She licks her lips sexily as he unzips his fly.]

...the return of

 DOCTOR WHO...

[The Doctor and her companions Ryan, Yasmin and Graham are sat around the TARDIS console, arms crossed and looking distinctly bored.]

GRAHAM: But, Doctor, surely it wouldn't hurt nipping outside just for an hour?

THE DOCTOR: Not bloomin' likely! For the sake of the universe we've got to stay indoors till the government tells us otherwise.

GRAHAM: [Mutters] David Tennant would let us go out...

THE DOCTOR: Ooh, you sexist pig, Graham! I've had it up to here with your white male privilege, you-

...and the new normal comes to Albert Square in

EASTENDERS.

[Cut to empty interior of the Queen Vic, the eerie silence broken only by the ominous tick-tick of a wall clock.]

That's the new season of drama, coming this summer on BBC One!

Or you can always read a good book, of course.

Actually, yeah - do that.

Boris Johnson Addresses the Nation

 Click to enlarge

News from Nowhere

This week, Richard has a short but spectacular mental breakdown and picks a fight with the entire western hemisphere.

I'll say one thing for this current crisis: it makes you take a closer look at your personal politics. I've been at odds with the so-called liberal media for some time now, particularly in relation to its empty virtue-signalling, but I'm really growing to despise their cant and supercilious rhetoric. (It amuses me, for example, how the BBC and The Guardian have been calling for a full-on China-style lockdown for some time now, only to get cold feet once cabin fever sets in, the ruinous economic cost of a forced quarantine suddenly dawns on them, and the police start acting like the fucking Stasi.) Conversely, I'm equally as fed-up with conservative commentators peddling stories about socialist takeovers and/or extranational conspiracies (which the UK media have done nothing to dispell, even in the face of idiotic backlashes such as the recent 5G mast-burnings in Liverpool and Birmingham: let's face it, they were handing out free petrol on that story months before anyone took a match to it.) When will these double-standards end?

Like most people, I was shocked to wake up to the news on Thursday that Trump had remarked during his latest press briefing that injecting disinfectant into the bloodstream was a way of combating Covid-19. Of course, anyone blessed with even a modicum of close-reading skills (or, y'know, had actually watched the footage and listened to what he said) can see for themselves how his admittedly clumsy choice of words has been twisted by partisan media to suit their own agenda. And this doesn't stop at individuals, either. Consider the sheer volume of pro-EU propaganda being churned out by many of the same news outlets who have conveniently taken it upon themselves to side-step how Italy has effectively been hung out to dry by other major nation states yet still denigrates them for receiving humanitarian aid from China and Russia. And don't even get me started on the intense criticism of Orbán's emergency measures in Hungary, which it must be emphasised aren't all that different from the ones enacted in France under President Macron. Why is one a problem but the other isn't? Could it be that the media can't seem to move beyond this view of Eastern European states as something unknowable, alien and 'problematic' because they can't be bothered to consider history, context and social perspective? Then to cap it all, just to tighten the throat and send tremors down the left arm, we're bombarded with poorly-argued, space-filling editorials asking if female heads of state such as Angela Merkel and Jacinda Ardern are better suited than their male counterparts to handle the outbreak (falling back on tired stereotypes identity politics is supposedly meant to be a reaction against), pieces asking why the virus seems to be disproportionately affecting BAME people (failing to take into account population density in the inner-cities) and, most bafflingly, outrage at the postponement of gender realignment surgeries for trans individuals despite the very obvious fact that the health service has had to free up space to deal with the pandemic (which, hypocritically, a lot of the pundits complaining about this have been lecturing us about for several weeks).

But aside from the many frustrations listed above, if there's one thing that's really starting to piss me off about the media's response to the current crisis it's the endlessly repeated, dumb-ass assertion that this is "The New Normal". Now, I've treated that statement rather flippantly for the last month or so, but my blood really ran cold when I heard foreign secretary Dominic Raab use it on The Andrew Marr Show - and I say that beause... Well, it's not the sort of expression you want to hear used by a member of government (it makes one think of dictators like Nicolae Ceauşescu and Idi Amin justifying measures that led to the curtailment of civil liberties and the deaths of thousands of people under the pretext of 'security'). The fact is that many people, guided by the corrupting hand of the MSM, seem to think this is a sort of interim period between what used to be 'normality' and the geopolitical/-social/-economic climate that will come afterwards - one that's already being touted as a more egalitarian society by hopeful doves who seem to think a global recession will increase awareness of social injustice. But to quote Marx: "The birthmarks of the past still exist."

I'm done with ideology, and I'm finished with projections of what this/that means in the eyes of the media. When this is all over and there's at least a semblance of normality, it's going to take more than a few tired slogans and empty rhetoric to convince me that any political party or media outlet is worth my investment or trust. As the great reformer Tom Mann observed: "A sensible man is not anxious that any particular '-ism' shall prevail, he is only anxious that the right conditions shall obtain."

Amen, brother.

WordJam: Tomorrow's Fake News Today!

Stay safe, folks.

WordJam in Lockdown: Volume 2

Monday, 6th April

My first day delivering food parcels for the local community support service. It's hard not to feel a bit like Jesus feeding the 5000, really. (Well, if he'd been cycling back and forth to Bethsaida with bags full of Tesco's own brand, that is, but the point still stands.)

Mrs Edgerton at No. 17 isn't happy she didn't get the grouse she asked for. I try to explain we are limited in terms of the food items we can supply, but it does little to placate her.

"I suppose veal's out of the question as well, is it?" she asks testily.

"...I can get you some liver-?" I offer somewhat feebly.

"Don't bother, I'll use that other delivery boy in future," she says before slamming the door in my face. This unfortunately turns out to be the pattern for every delivery I make today. If it's not grouse or veal they're expecting it's oysters or lobster, and each time there's a reference to this other volunteer they'd rather use instead of me. Mr Rayner at No. 37 mentioned the name Kevin, but told me to bugger off before I could ask any more.

I go home feeling deflated. Later I get a phone call from Keir Starmer, who begs me to reconsider taking him up on his offer of becoming Deputy Leader of the Labour Party. I tell him I'm not in the mood to discuss it right now and hang up.


Tuesday, 7th April

After yesterday's events I resolve that if I'm going to carry on volunteering I really need to up my game. Disregarding the list of food items recommended by the community support service, I head down to the supermarket as soon as it opens and buy up every piece of Kobe steak, Iberian ham, king salmon, etc that I can get my hands on. Altogether it comes to just over £13,000, but I figure what the hell: you can't put a price on charity. Besides, if my housemate doesn't want me to use his credit card he shouldn't leave it lying around.

Mr Nigmatulin at No. 43 is so delighted with his curried Moroccan lamb cutlets he asks me to shop for him again next week. It's the same story with Mrs Brand at No. 57, who's moved to tears by my Japanese cod filets. As the day goes on I receive more requests for future food drops, promises to recommend me to friends, and even the odd comment about the level of my service being far superior to Kevin's.

I get home and crack open a well-deserved bottle of Stella when the phone rings. It's Starmer again, and he wants to know if I'm ready to talk now. He butters me up by saying he needs a strong right-hand man to steer the Labour Party towards electability and heal the rift on the left (not to mention give him a few pointers on policy since he's hopelessly out of his depth). I politely decline, informing him I've found a greater, more worthwhile calling than anything Westminster has to offer. Plus I wouldn't be seen dead next to that tosser Ed Miliband.


Wednesday, 8th April

Just having breakfast when there's a knock at the door. I open it to discover a box of Sainsbury's Taste the Difference chocolate assortment with all but the bloody horrible coffee ones removed. Is this random happenstance, or is someone trying to give me a message? I ponder on this over my boiled egg, pausing only to change my shirt after spilling yoke down it.

I deliver food parcels to Mr Sanders (Colonel, retired) at No. 71 and Mr Nando at No. 73. When I arrive I hear loud, angry voices coming from the back garden. Out of concern I slip through the alley into the snicket, only to find Mr Sanders (Col., retired) and Mr Nando yelling at each other over the fence. I ask what this is all about, and Mr Nando informs me it's an ongoing disagreement they have about who's the best cook. I tell them there's a simple way of solving this and hand them both a food parcel containing a frozen Ayam Cemani chicken.

"Gentlemen, this is the best and most expensive breed of chicken in the world," I announce like a referee at a boxing match. "The man who cooks this to perfection without resorting to using peri-peri sauce or a deep fat fryer will earn his title as the greater gourmet..."

"Obrigado, Senhor!" Mr Nando shouts with an impish glee. "I'll make this clapped out cabron's tastebuds bitter with jealousy!"

"Bring it on, ya pixellated varmint!" Mr Sanders (Col., retired) hollers before firing his Smith & Wesson into the air. "YEE-HAW!"

When I get in I decide to have a shower. I'm about to get undressed when there's another knock at the door. I run to open it, only to discover my phantom visitor has scarpered once again. I look down at the doorstep, this time finding myself presented with the severed head of a My Little Pony doll and a note that reads:

'BACK OFF.

-K'

It looks like this Kevin means business.


Thursday, 9th April

I'm just about to leave Mrs Fulci's Wagyu rib-eye steak on her doorstep when a sack is suddenly placed over my head and I'm bundled into a van. After what feels like a half-hour drive we arrive at our destination. My abductors remove the sack to reveal we're at the local community centre, which is only a five-minute walk down the road. In the middle of the hall a plump man about my age is sat at a table eating a large plate of pasta. Light from one of the tall windows shines off the top of his bald head, giving him a strangely imposing look.

"You're Richard, right?" he says, motioning his henchmen to bring me closer. "The great humanitarian!"

"That's what they say," I shrug, puffing out my chest in a display of machismo. "And you must be Kevin, yeah? You know, you ought to give your goons a lesson in social distancing some time. I don't think forcibly abducting people off the street and shoving them into a dirty old van is recommended under current health guidelines..."

He glares at me for a moment before bursting into a huge belly laugh.

"You're a real funny guy, Rich!" he chuckles, wagging a finger at me. "But you want me to tell you what isn't funny? Some good-for-nothing mook muscling in on my territory. This street's mine, you hear? I deliver the food parcels in this district. And when this is all over, it's me who's gonna win the Community Spirit Award."

"Is that what this is about?" I ask incredulously. "Delivering expensive goods to vulnerable people just so you can win a prize?"

"You got it," he says, rising from his chair and walking towards me. "And I was doing real well till you poked your nose in. You're a real nosey fella, Rich. Do you know what happens to nosey fellas? They lose their noses..."

He suddenly tweaks my nose, squeezing it so hard it starts to bleed.

"Now, I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse," he says, wiping the blood off his hand with a tissue. "Either join my outfit and help me win that trophy, or hang up your bicycle clips."

"And if I carry on?"

"Then you won't like the look of your face no more."

One of his goons hands me a card with a mobile number on it.

"Think about it," Kevin says, returning to his pasta. "But not for too long. I got mouths to feed..."


Friday, 10th April

I receive call after call from irate residents demanding to know what's happened to their food parcels. I lie that I'm out of action for a few days because I've twisted my ankle. That should buy me some time until I decide what to do. Who thought charity could be so dangerous?

I call an old friend for advice. Someone with inside knowledge of the criminal underworld.

[Dialling tone, then-]

"'Ello. My name is Michael Caine. And if you're from the bleedin' HMRC the cheque's in the post."

"No, Michael - it's Richard."

"All right, son? Long time no rabbit! You still knockin' about wiv that Emma Watson bird?"

"No, she's 'self-partnered' now."

"What's that? Code for being left on the shelf?"

"...Kinda. Listen, Michael: I need your help."

"What's the matter? You ain't Pat and Mick, are ya? 'Cos I'd love to help, but y'know - extradition and all that..."

"No, I've been volunteering for this community scheme delivering food parcels. It was going pretty well at first, but it turns out I've been muscling in on this local gangster's patch."

"'Ere, you wanna stay away from them fellas, son. If you're not careful you could end up brown bread."

"That's just it, they're forcing my hand. Either I go in with them or I end up looking like Andrew Lloyd Webber. And I don't just want to give up. This feels like a real calling."

"So what exactly is it they're runnin' down there? An extortion racket or summink?"

"No, the boss wants to win a Community Spirit Award."

"Farkin' ell! This geezer sounds proper mum and dad if you ask me."

"What do you think I should do, Michael? I mean, you know these people."

"Yeah, well... That was a long time ago, son. Besides, it was never proved. But if I was you I'd ask meself if it really is a sense of community spirit that's givin' me the hump about this nutjob, or if it's pride. 'Cos if that's what it is you've gotta man up, Rich, and hit this bastard right where it hurts. You hear what I'm sayin'?"

"I think so... Cheers, Michael."

"Don't mention it, son. 'Ere, listen, I've gotta go: the old cows and kisses is puttin' me Yul Brynner out. Stay lucky, okay?"

With Michael's words still ringing in my ear I call Kevin and tell him I've made my decision. I ask to meet him on his own in the park at 2pm tomorrow to discuss it. He seems happy with the arrangement. Afterwards I crack open a bottle of Stella and stare moodily out the window for several hours, each minute counting down towards my destiny.


Saturday, 11th April

Kevin arrives bang on time and we take a stroll along the canal.

"I knew you'd come to your senses," he says, beaming in apparent triumph. "I mean, that was a smart idea buying all that expensive food and trying to cut me out of the market, but in the end it's just not a sustainable business model."

"Well, that was before I realised what I was up against," I reply, smiling at my own dumb luck. "But I see now going it alone would never have worked out. You need a network of people for an operation like that. Not to mention someone ruthless and single-minded acting as the brains, of course..."

He stops walking and holds out his hand.

"Welcome to the family, Rich," he says warmly. We shake on it.

"No hard feelings?" I ask.

"None. That's not the way I do business!"

"It's the way I do it, though," I reply, raising myself up to my full height.

"Sorry, what-?" he says, genuinely taken back.

"Here's how it's going to be, Kevin. Your fat arse works for me now, okay? You and your goons, the food parcels, the van, the community centre: all of it. I'll cut you in at, say, five percent? And if I get the Community Spirit Award I might even consider raising it to seven or eight..."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he says with a bemused smile. "This is my business, that's my award, and no man is gonna take them away from me! Especially not a furloughed bum like you."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to settle this the old-fashioned way," I sigh, discreetly slipping a hand into my coat pocket. "Where's your tool?"

"Wh- What tool?" he says, eyes widening with alarm.

"This fucking tool," I snarl, pulling out a tennis ball in a sock and smacking it in his face. He falls to the ground, dazed and confused, whimpering like a dog with toothache.

"Right, Kevin, you bastard!" I shout, standing over him like a colossus. "I'm the fucking daddy in this street now, see? Tell your goons to meet me at the community centre first thing on Monday morning to sort out the new arrangements, or next time it'll be a fucking snooker ball, pal..."

Back at home I crack open a celebratory bottle of Mer Soleil (courtesy of my housemate's credit card) and put my feet up in front of the TV. It suddenly dawns on me it's Easter weekend, and I find myself thinking what a mug Jesus was not charging people for the loaves and fishes.

In-Between Days #2: 10 TV Series to Take Your Mind Off You-Know-What

Since it's becoming increasingly clear we're in our current predicament for the long haul, this week's WordJam is following up its recent article offering film recommendations to readers who want a much-needed distraction from ongoing events with a selection of TV shows that deserve wider critical or popular attention. As with the previous post, each entry dates from the last ten years and should be available through on-demand or streaming services. Once again, though, if this isn't the case there are other means at your disposal:

I mean, seriously - who's really paying attention right now? Anyway, enough of the recycled jokes: on with the show...

Bellamy's People

(UK: BBC Two, 2010)

A spin-off from Paul Whitehouse and Charlie Higson's brilliant Radio 4 spoof phone-in show Down the Line, Bellamy's People is a beautifully observed satire of celebrity travelogues and the inanity lurking behind their populist pretensions. With the advent of Brexit six years after its first broadcast, this faux-documentary's examination of Britishness in the 21st century has since taken on an unexpected but deliciously subversive edge. Television comedy at its finest.

* * *

Half in the Bag

(US: RedLetterMedia/YouTube, 2011-)

If Siskel and Ebert At the Movies felt like a sitcom about two film critics who live in a cinema, Half in the Bag takes this strange cross-pollination of genres to its logical conclusion. Written, directed, edited and presented by Mike Stoklasa and Jay Bauman, the premise of each episode involves two VCR repairmen whose beer-soaked discussions about recent releases take centre stage to the increasingly bizarre events happening on the periphery of their lives. Essential viewing for movie hounds.

* * *

1864

(Denmark: DR1, 2014)

Ostensibly a drama about the Second Schleswig War between Denmark and Prussia, 1864 also features a parallel story set in the present day about a troubled teenager unearthing her family's history. The two don't always gel, often to the detriment of the period narrative, but as small screen epics go 1864 feels like genuine event television where the eye, the intellect and the emotions are all catered for. A welcome antidote to the sausage machine that Scandinavian noir has sadly become.

* * *

The Honourable Woman

(UK: BBC Two, 2014)

As dense as a John le Carré novel and boasting the character intricacy of Dostoevsky, writer-director Hugo Blick's labyrinthine thriller about Anglo-Jewish businesswoman Nessa Stein (Maggie Gyllenhaal) negotiating family secrets and mixed allegiances against the backdrop of the Israel-Palestine conflict is one of the most searingly intelligent dramas to have graced our screens in a very long time. It also proves once again you don't need more than ten episodes and multiple seasons to tell complex stories. Eight episodes, bish-bash-bosh: job done.

* * *

Penny Dreadful

(UK/US: Sky Atlantic, 2014-16)

The concept of bringing together characters from 19th century gothic fiction has been explored in numerous media, but Penny Dreadful writer John Logan uses this wealth of source material to fashion a series that stays true to the spirit of its literary forebears and substantially expands upon them. The result is ferociously intelligent (how many TV dramas can you name that demand a knowledge of European Romanticism?), achingly erotic and visually sublime. Just ignore the entirely misplaced Dorian Gray subplot, though.

* * *

Ash vs Evil Dead

(US: Starz, 2015-18)

Given the Evil Dead franchise built its fanbase on home video in the '80s and '90s, it feels apt that the continued adventures of Ash Williams found their home on the small screen. Brilliantly funny, unrelentingly gory and packed with invention, Ash vs Evil Dead was a perfect antidote to the stodgy self-importance of The Walking Dead and the forced quirkiness of American Horror Story, quietly blazing its own path to become one of the most original shows on television. Its subsequent cancellation is still inexplicable.

* * *

The Deutschland Trilogy

(Germany: RTL/Amazon Prime, 2015-)

Anna Winger's gripping Cold War drama about an East German intelligence agent going undercover in the West may have been overshadowed by the success of FX's similarly-themed show The Americans, but Deutschland's emotional and political scope far outstrips its US rival. I'll level with you, this is my favourite TV series of the last 15 years. And since I intend to write an article about the entire trilogy after the last season has aired later this year, I'm going to hold off on any further commentary except to reiterate you really must check it out. Superb drama.

* * *

The 1990s Trilogy

(Italy: Sky Italia/Sky Atlantic, 2015-)

Beginning with the Mani Pulite investigations and leading us through the subsequent reconstruction of Italy's political and cultural landscapes, the 1990s trilogy is one of the most ambitious television dramas of the last decade, interweaving a wide array of themes, plot strands, characters and even genres to such a degree of intricacy you'd assume it was based on a series of novels. What emerges is a rich, complex portrait of a nation in transition that makes The West Wing or The Wire pale in comparison.

* * *

O.J.: Made in America

(US: ABC/ESPN, 2016)

There's an ongoing debate in critical circles whether director Ezra Edelman's epic documentary is a miniseries or a 7½ hour film. Personally, I'd place it in the latter category, but since I'm getting irritated at people singing the praises of the staggeringly absurd American Crime Story dramatisation of the O.J. case, I'm cheekily altering my position here. O.J.: Made in America isn't just the story of a hideous crime and its pantomimetic aftermath, it's an examination of race, class, power and privilege. In short, essential viewing.

* * *

This Time with Alan Partridge

(UK: BBC One, 2019)

Arguably the best Partridge vehicle since Knowing Me, Knowing You in 1994, This Time is a brilliant pastiche of the self-important banality of current affairs programming. But at the heart of this circus is Alan himself: petty, conceited and ignorant, but all the while retaining the sense of vulnerability and unswerving optimism in the face of his own ineptitude that's made the character so fascinating for the last 25 years. This Time's dark subtlety and wry satire may be too much for some viewers, but if you're willing to laugh at yourself as well as others it's a scream.

* * * * *

And that's your lot for today, folks. Look out for another entry in this sporadic series at some point in the next week or so. Until then, stay safe, everyone.