The New Conservative

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Sublime Indifference

“Nothing matters very much, and few things matter at all.” Arthur Balfour (attrib.) It took, it is said, seven days for news of Abraham Lincoln’s death to reach London. This was comparatively speedy – Australia had to wait the best part of a month. By contrast, everyone with a phone or TV learned of the […]

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The Thinker

On Second Thoughts

Second thoughts seem to be a feature of my life. Not, I think, due to chronic indecision or a personality prone to regret, but because that is just the way my mind seems to work. A thought bubbles up, seemingly from nowhere, and then I decide what to do with it. If it is interesting

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Atlas

Carving the Ox

Cook Ding was a master, butchering animals with balletic precision. So impressive was his craft that one day his employer, Lord Wen Hui, asked for an explanation. He hadn’t always had the skill, the cook said. When he started, he had seen the animal in its totality, just one big hunk of meat, so he

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Tower Bridge

In Da City

Recently, following a single complaint, a TfL video telling men not to harass women has been pulled, because it features a black person doing the harassing. So continues our Orwellian, inverted looking glass universe that the political and media class like to promulgate. I have some knowledge of what things are like on the streets of

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Drowning in a sea of usb cables

The Error Message

I hate updating my website. It is a chore. So, I put it off, depriving the literal handful of bots who visit it on a good day access to the latest flowering of my thought. It is not because it is hard – it is one of those off-the-shelf freebies which even idiots can master

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Inkwell

Letter From the Editor

Dear readers, This is a very brief note to let you know the state of play at The New Conservative. I have been hit by something nearing the perfect storm in terms of a personal life of late, and must rapidly begin a new job, move house, and negotiate my divorce appeal as it reaches

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The past

Can You Go Back?

Life is like a jailer. As it wanders down the block, large ring of keys jangling on its hip, you never entirely know which cell it is going to unlock, and which memory will emerge, blinking, into the light. Just writing down three numbers the other day instantly shaved decades off my age. For the

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