Thee Ton Zeitgeist

ETON ZEITGEISTTHE St Andrew’s Day Edition £5.0017th November 2007

Performance Improvement Programmes

“The project has produced real ongoing savings. Our ongoing scepticism of

consultants has been buried”

Graham Dilley, Director

P & O Ferrymasters

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We misunderstand the terrorists

A letter in Viz recently read: ‘If the failed 21/7 bombers had just waited three more

days, we’d all be calling them the 24/7 bombers. This would imply that they blow things up all day every day and, despite their actual lack of success, make them at least sound like they were good at bombing’. This comment personifies our view that because terrorism often results in the horrific deaths of innocents, we mistakenly infer that these catastrophic fatalities are the primary motivation of the average terrorist or suicide bomber, and therefore not the means to a different end.

Most terrorist attacks in the name of outspoken ideals and principles are often highly ineffectual in achieving an intended result in the long run. This is because terrorism’s most probable sources for successful attack resulting in the effective spread of fear and mayhem are military targets instead of the most frequently targeted civilian ones. If they have minimalist goals like evicting a foreign power from their country or winning control of a piece of territory, rather than maximalist objectives like establishing an entirely alien government in the nation or annihilating another nation or entire religion. But even so, terrorism is a pretty ineffective means of influencing established policies.

Hezbollah’s targets of eliminating the presence of diplomats and Israel within Lebanon counts as a success, yet so does the limited success by the Tamil Tigers of establishing a Tamil state.

Most governments regard it that their civilian populations are not attacked because the terrorist group is staging a violent outcry against external conditions such as territorial occupation of their fatherland or ignored and unaided poverty; countries which are the victims of terrorist attacks perceive any short-term consequences of terrorism such as the fatalities of innocents, a rejuvenated lapse in confidence for the domestic government and panic breaks out, shortfalls in trade and the regression of civil freedoms to be the objectives of the

terrorist groups. In short, target countries view the negative consequences of terrorist attacks on their societies and political systems as evidence that the terrorists want them destroyed. Target countries are understandably sceptical that making concessions will satisfy terrorist groups who they perceive to be mistakenly motivated by a maximalist objective.

On one level therefore terrorism rarely succeeds since it makes people less likely to adhere to the group’s demands, no matter how limited or seemingly insignificant to lifestyle or political orientation they could be. The reaction to terrorism contradicts the intentions of the terrorist; because of the physical impact upon human lives and the lack of a sense of safety at home, the average victim and bystander cannot accept that the stated limited demand could be a real one.

Thus we may understand what the reason is for the claim that so many blindly make which is that al Qaeda terrorism (in some cases any Islamic terrorism) has an ulterior motive to all other groups. Many such groups have real intentions to alter policy in a state, whereas al Qaeda harbours the sole aim of human destruction. This is something we have heard from President Bush again and again: “They hate our freedoms -- our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech ... We will take defensive measures against terrorism to protect Americans”.

Contrary to popular belief, Bin Laden’s policy objectives have been relatively consistent. These are six examples of a former CIA analyst named Michael Scheuer, whose book is named Imperial Hubris:

End the USA’s support of Israel 1.

Force American troops out of 2. the Middle East

End the U.S. occupation of 3. Afghanistan and Iraq

End U.S. support of other 4. countries’ anti-Muslim policies

Performance Improvement Programmes

“The project has produced real ongoing savings. Our ongoing scepticism of

consultants has been buried”

Graham Dilley, Director

P & O Ferrymasters

End U.S. pressure on Arab oil 5. companies to keep prices low

End U.S. support for moderate 6. Arab governments, like Pakistan

Bin Laden has complained that the American population has misunderstood the intentions lodged behind the 9/11 attacks. Yet terrorism, and 9/11 in particular, conveys such a drastic and extremist element that people assume that the effects caused by such attacks are representative of the group’s political intentions. Bin Laden’s actual objectives are ignored as people focus on the deaths, the destruction and the economic impact the attacks upon the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and flight United 93.

Appallingly, President Bush’s misinterpretation of the motives of terrorism grossly distorts their intentions in the eyes of the West at large. The fact that this prevents terrorists from achieving their goals can never justify their means; instead it does the opposite by demonstrating terrorism’s impotence as a political tool of influence. Terrorism is not an end in itself but merely the means, however misguided and erroneous it may be; we must understand not only the violence and loss caused by their tactics but their motivation as an aspect to which we must relate. It is our deep-rooted prejudices which shroud our understanding and cause us to maltreat and nullify the motivation and focus instead upon the threat.

Terrorists are fundamentally a case against Darwinism - suicide bombers must one day blow themselves up to a point where their destruction of themselves undermines their effectiveness; all the best ones blow themselves up. It seems that the causes for which they die which will most probably not change, but our view as to their motives, will be steadily more shrouded by our governmentally - influenced assessments.

4 _StAndrewsDayEdition

Editors: Max Wagner, Finn Dattenberg-Doyle, Jeremy LetwinDesigner: Joon-Son ChungCartoonists: Will Moore, Richard Braham, Ed MarisHobbits: Johnny Lillis, Hugo CobbMaster in Charge: GDM

3 leading article Alex MacKeith RDO-CWe don’t realize the real goal of terrorism

5 editorialThe Editors organize a few events

6 KS in a Cage Patrick Leigh-Pemberton KSChe Guevara II tries to start a revolution in the school

7 Fancy a trip to the moonChris Butcher IHWhen can we summer in the sky?

8 Scientific EtonianExciting new discoveries in the scientific world

10 The Eton boomerang: What goes around comes aroundHugo Cobb PB Gossip from around Eton 12 Belgium should settle for a quiet divorce Archie Cornish KSThis country will soon cease to exist

14 Peter Doherty: What a waster? Johnny Lillis WFMDoherty seems to be on the road to recovery

16 Columns Fraser Brough DMGBobby Leigh-Pemberton MJLBZe Beast WFMRamblings…

18 Interview with Geordie GreigTalking to Britain’s ‘most connected man’

With thanks to: MCM, PKM, JMG, ML, RMS, MJA, PB, WFM, Theo Andrews, all our advertisers, the orginal Sheep team, our house reps and all the people who have bought this magazine.

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Welcome readers,

Thank you for buying this magazine, whether you signed up optionally, were press-ganged into it or were told the price was three issues for £5, which unfortunately it isn’t. It doesn’t really matter now; the chances are you will read on anyway. Therefore we will not bore you with a tedious summary of what lies ahead; but instead give you a brief history of how this magazine started.

This magazine was the brainchild of Max’s Junior Chronicle days, and went through a number of names including - Hoot, The Maverick, The Gutenberg and The Sheep, until finally we settled on The Eton Zeitgeist, for a number of reasons, but mainly because we like the word Zeitgeist. We think it has a nice punctual flavour to it. So then we went through great lengths to make it official and find a Master-in-Charge, after many long nights and long documents both were done, despite one taking a lot longer than the other. And lastly we added the bread and butter of the mag, the articles, and despite annoying a few senior figures and many boys along the way we created this magazine. We started in E Lent!

Now that the history is over we would like to take the chance to advertise some

activities the always eco-friendly Eton Zeitgeist is organising:

In an attempt to reduce our 1) carbon footprints we have started an eco-friendly march down Common Lane on Friday 30 November, continuing every week from then on. If you also feel a paternalistic, unwarranted desire to ‘protect’ a perfectly stable planet we suggest you join in on our festivities. This week’s slogan is ‘we love the planet, be green’ and we will be suitably setting fire or destroying anything we deem ‘not green enough’ in order not to pollute the world any further. So far we have received strong backing from doomsday environmentalists: Stern and Gore. Bring your matches and an idiotic mentality; this isn’t much of an inconvenience.

We are looking for compatriots 2) to help us form the Sloane Appreciation Society on Facebook. Requirements: long brown/black hair, called Max/George/Johnny, wears vintage Ralph Lauren or Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirts, favourite band the Kooks, reads the Week and plays tennis in the summer because he is made to. We suggest any volunteers meet us at Starbucks on the Kings Road?

Unfortunately these are the only activities we are organising this half.

However, if you would like us to be made aware of an activity you think we would be particularly interested in organising for you do email our sub-editor/ warlock at [email protected], we will try and respond as soon as possible.

We hope you enjoy the magazine.

The Editors

Editorial

In the next issue,

The Revenge of the Sheep team

The New Zeitgeist room

I saw the Hogwarts Express...

The Jackal exposed

Scoop on Social Services?

+ Lots of interesting stuff


MondayWas last person into chapel, again, dirty look from House Master duly registered. I think I pulled a muscle crossing School Yard, have declared myself officially off games, which is lucky, as I have no sport anyway. Did the Maths for last Saturday, it was actually quite short, and easy, but I have to put on the semblance of someone struggling to survive in this, our GCSE year, thus avoiding all rips that might be sent my way with the sympathy vote.

Tuesday I was assigned my first F blocker today, quite a nice chap, polishes well. I might get another one, the going rate is four Geography exams or one maths question, it is a bit cheap, but demand has ceased as last years’ crop have turned out to be one of the best vintages ever, and many have been kept on. Was talking to Serge (identity obscured for fear of employee disloyalty) and apparently his block have no CD drive whilst at school, in order that they and their friends may not: watch DVDs, rip CDs, or play computer games. Instead they are going to have to file share DVD rips, Steal music over the network and download crack games from the Internet. Boys’ planning, as always, has been impeccable.

Wednesday Had another think about diktat above, and have spotted another flaw, supposedly this drive is also meant to encourage more boys to read, instead of watch DVDs. I was stuck by how this might affect the social dynamic of F block. Instead of watching the latest DVD on someone’s laptop, together, with friends, they are to be encouraged to sit in their rooms, on their own, interacting with nothing but a bit of dead tree. (This does not mean however, that they should stop subscribing to The Eton Zeitgeist.) I have decided that something needs to be done about this present set up. I (CHE Guevara II) am going to start a revolution , and bring the school back into the golden age of the early 2000s,

with very little cyber protection, and only a growing awareness of something called Health and Safety, who are as we know the greatest totalitarian group of them all.

Thursday I have been canvassing for the removal of certain totalitarian figures; just saw unnamed English beak give an innocent Fheed a dress offence for having black socks on- he will be added to the list of beaks soon to be removed from his podium of power, at least, that is, if everyone who said they would today,

fully accepts the need for revolution.Watched If, made a few notes Need more People Need to start rebelling Need to do it on a day that is not the day that is not the 4th of June. Need to get a jacket like Travers, that is cool. Have recommended If... to all fellow believers.

FridayChapel was interesting, some man who spoke like a machine gun and destroyed all other ideologies just as fast, maybe he would be interested in leading the revolution....

SaturdaySlept through divs, needed to think of excuse, did not write in Diary, in fact I am writing this on Sunday, which is odd, as it is normally my Diary day off.

Sunday Diary Day Off, but read above anyway.

KS in a Cage

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Fancy a trip to the moon?

Now that mankind has conquered the skies with mainstream commercial aviation, it naturally looks to broaden its horizons. Man must now conquer the universe, or rather, commercial space travel. Is it possible?

When you look back no more than just one-hundred years, human kind was taking its first baby steps into taking transport to the skies. The Wright Brothers succeeded in “building the world’s first successful airplane and making the first controlled, powered and sustained heavier-than-air human flight on December 17, 1903”. About thirty years later, man saw the dawn of commercial aviation. The possibilities of travelling thousands of miles – or going abroad for the first time – were finally possible.

So, here we find ourselves a century later trying to make the next big achievement in travel. A little more than thirty years ago, the USSR launched the first successful manned flight into space. Sure enough, thirty years later we’re striving to open the opportunity to the public.

The idea is perfectly feasible, there is no technical hurdle to cross before sending people into space; - we’ve already done it, right? But making it practical, would mean revolutionising space travel altogether. Today, you could book a flight on Virgin Galactic, it boasts trips as early as 2009. The cost? $200,000. So, it would appear that for the next two years, we can forget seeing an EasyJet spacecraft flight. What about the next 10 years? What would commercial space travel require?

Firstly, it needs to be safe, aviation wasn’t safe enough to be used by the public until thirty years later. So we’re looking at a while before space travel would be safe enough for public use. Secondly, space travel isn’t comfortable enough at the moment to encourage

“Space Tourism”. Having to reconstitute canned food with water through a syringe, the poor ventilation, and using the toilet in zero gravity make this flight somewhat less pleasant than a short hope to Minorca. This also begs the question, what’s a space holiday anyway? Is it a trip into space and back, or a hotel stay on the moon? A hotel on the moon is even harder than a space journey itself. Without oxygen, food or even gravity – you can forget pools and tennis courts – or even good weather. The simple space flight couldn’t really be considered a holiday, given the comfort of it all. Is that what it’s all about?

You could argue it’s about experiencing complete weightlessness, or the thrill of leaving the entire earth behind and going into the void. Well, for $200,000 per person, you can. But that’s an experience, not a holiday. How long until I can take my family to the moon? The only player in the field of commercial space travel is Virgin Galactic. It boasts that “Virgin Galactic expects to provide the first sub-orbital flights to the general public, but does not itself as being in a race.” ‘General public’ meaning those who have $200,000 to burn, which would probably work out being at least double when you take in fuel and training. Fuel being one thing that would jeopardize common aviation, would oust space travel altogether. So while we can put the public into space, nobody

in their right mind would do it – which makes the ‘commercial’ aspect void. Until we’ve refined our space technology to accommodate passengers in comfort will the idea become feasible. Then, we need to tackle the problems of cost, and the environment. Fuel and the alarming shortages thereof threaten to wipe out the possibility of space travel on a mass commercial scale, which means an alternative fuel source is needed before we can consider space flight for the masses. A new fuel source is a requirement more necessary to save our planet than open up the curiosity in space travel.

That doesn’t mean we should give up the dream of going into space on holiday. While commercial space flight may not be viable in 10, 20 or even 50 years, the rate at which we discover new and improve old aspects of science and technology mean we could find ourselves in space sooner than we may think. Virgin’s vision of commercial space holidays at $200,000 a pop by 2009 is optimistic, but until man has really made it available to the ‘general public’ will it ever catch on. While we may one day have the opportunity to go to space in our lifetime, the question should really be “Will commercial space travel ever be convenient?” Curing cancer, saving the starving in Africa and achieving world peace may be priorities before commercial space travel is possible for everyone. Will it ever happen? I for one, hope so.

Chris Butcher IH wonders whether space travel will soon become a reality in the form of Virgin Galactic. For only $200,000 a ride one can leave the whole earth behind.

‘


Scientific EtonianNuCLEAR REPERCuSSIONS

In 1957 the Windscale Nuclear reactor had a fire, which, released radioactive material into the air. This radioactive material spread across Cumbria causing what scientists thought would be around 200 cases of cancer. Recent re-assessment suggested that slightly more radioactive material may have been released than previously thought, therefore causing around an estimated 240 cases of cancer. The cause of the accident was an overheating of graphite causing the material to leak and subsequently be blown by the fan up the chimney of the power station and not to be filtered properly.

THE LASER HARPYou may not have, before this time,

heard of a laser harp. It is not a relatively recent invention and was amazingly first produced in the 1970s. In most forms of the laser harp a single laser beam is reflected trough a lens which separates it out into form many strands into a fan like shape. The user of this laser harp will then pluck at the beams, this plucking causes the light beam to break and so triggers a note to be played in a synthesiser. The breakage of the light is detected by sensors on the other side of the harp. The laser harp is used in

extravagant musical performances and at concerts in order to amaze not as a serious instrument. The strength of laser required to be visible in air in the light is quite strong and so the wearer normally has to wear protective gloves and safety glasses. The laser harp was most famously used in a Jarre concert.

SABRETOOTH BEARS?

For a long time when one has thought of the most fearsome animal, a Sabretooth “tiger” has come to mind. Recent evidence suggests that although still fearsome the Sabretooth was very bulky

and was designed very differently from lions or tiger. The tiger jumps on its prey and asphyxiates them by clamping its jaws around their neck, the Sabretooth, on the other hand, would have been built to wrestle its prey to the ground.The Sabretooth’s famed bite is also at

stake. The research done suggests that even if the Sabretooth had been built more like a lion it would not have been able to sustain the pressure needed to asphyxiate most of its victims.

SuPERSIZE ME PLEASE

Liver damage, sky-rocketed cholesterol, absent sex drive and 30 extra lbs. As Morgan Spurlock demonstrated in his award winning documentary ‘Super Size Me’ in 2004, these are what the effects of a month long McDonalds binge does to your health. But in Sweden, scientist Fredrik Nyström and his team of volunteers are replicating the same experiment. Each volunteer eats 6000 calories a day - the equivalent of over 10 Big Macs – and to ensure each volunteer takes the full effect of the

challenge, walking moderate distances has been prohibited, and free bus passes distributed to ensure even the shortest distances are covered by automation. All in the name of science. In fact the current results of the experiment seem to show quite a difference to Morgan’s results published in his documentary. While Morgan’s liver was said to achieve life threatening status, the students involved in the experiment suffered hardly at all. While Nystrom noted significant changes in the enzymes and fat content of the liver, he noted they were “never even close to dangerous”. Despite the fat that the volunteers gained throughout the

experiment, around 5-15% of their body weight, none showed any signs of severe heath problems, other than feeling “tired and bloated” throughout the first week. What the results mean is that we could be misunderstanding the way which our bodies can adapt to fat, and that heavy eating takes a lesser toll on our vital organs than previously thought. In fact, Nystrom believes that eating to gain 10% more body weight can be good for you. Such extra fat can be burned off as heat when we sleep, Nystrom believes that “If that was not the case we would all have to keep track of every last calorie”.

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CHOCOLATE. THE SOuRCE OF ALL EvIL? THINK AGAIN.

Chocolate lovers of this world will be pleased to know that chocolate is not actually all that bad for you. In fact you’ll be delighted to hear that, besides being one of the most delicious foods on the planet, chocolate is also an ‘essential component of a balanced diet’ according to the BBC. Interestingly enough, chocolate bars were amongst some of the vital supplies flown out to armies fighting the Gulf War, however, one cannot deny that eating too much of the stuff will most definitely lead to obesity. Another delightful statistic shows that in a matter of years, chocolate toothpaste will be able to save your teeth. Scientists have discovered that the husks of the cocoa beans, usually not included in the ingredients for making chocolate, could be added back in in to help prevent tooth decay. However scientists will have to find a way for the husks of the cocoa beans to fully cancel out the tooth decay caused by the chocolate in the first place.

uLTRA THIN Tv

A television screen only 3mm thick has been developed by Sony using organic light-emitting diodes (OLED). The OLEDs are more energy efficient than the average TV . The television will not only be amazingly thin but will have a brighter, crisper picture than ever before. The first TV will be rather small and will have a price tag of £850. The one letdown of this is that the OLED had around half the life span of the LED.

WHEN WILL yOu BLOW uP?

It might be whenever you least expect it, due to a phenomenon known as Spontaneous Human Combustion. Spontaneous Human Combustion is not a fully proven scientific theory but there is some evidence for it. Scientists have grouped Spontaneous Human Combustion into two types. Those incidences where the victim acts as a wick to a fire which has already started; the other type of Spontaneous Human Combustion is that where the victim does simply what is said on the tin and completely spontaneously combusts. The wick effect is fully proven as a theory and involves the human beginning to burn and then the fat melting into the human’s clothes and then after a while the entire corpse (the person having died on initial burning, normally while sleeping) explodes. There are even some cases of this type of Spontaneous Human

Combustion which involve the victim not dying until the very end; the most extreme case of this is one where a man in America died from asphyxiation on the fumes created by his own body burning. The other type of Spontaneous Human Combustion is rather less believable than the first; it involves a person becoming so statically charged that they simply ignite. Most people, when they, get static conducted into their body, simply release it slowly into the air. Scientists believe, however, that around 1/100,000 people are susceptible to having especially dry skin, and so, are able, when walking across a particularly static heavy carpet, to contain around 30,000 volts at a time. This effect has also been reported to result in the burning of only the victim and not that of the surrounding, i.e. pictures and desks or even beds. So the answer is that you might one day just be sleeping and suddenly blow up.


Outdoor Pool: Thanks to a bit of extended opening times, a few hardened swimmers make the most of their £30 subscription fee in 7-8 degree water. One source has said that the indoor pool will also face problems soon. And that in 5-10 years there may only be one swimming pool at Eton.

Marten Schools: JMAO-C is voted the most hip, hop and happening young beak in Eton, after his lead role in hit TV series The Manor House, for more information go to http://www.pbs.org/manorhouse/thepeople/mister_jonathan.html

School Hall: Tourists have adopted the new tactic of standing right outside, as opposed to across the road, when boys are coming out of their houses, giving the effect of paparazzi. Don’t worry the A-Team will get ‘em?

The Astro: After the school had cottoned on, a notice was issued to House Masters about ‘abuse of the all weather surface’. And we’re not talking about people moving the goal posts about without due care. Rumours are that designated smoking areas will be installed in the next few weeks.

The Eton Boomerang what goes around comes around

Hugo Cobb PB

Bekynton Schools: A beak tells us a new Politics, Philosophy and Economics building is to be erected in place of Bekynton schools. Birley schools is also due to be extended.

Bekynton: A happy consumer body after a very successful, curry/Asian day complete with Punjabi MC. Several lucky diners also won curry cookbooks.

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Queen’s Schools: A new F block starts their submission to the horrible injustice of ECDLs. At the same time E block are threatened with no internet if they don’t complete them.

Rowlands: Chambers should definitely be staggered block by block; people are starting to get hurt in the bacon roll rush.

Eton Security: As an addition to ‘the A team’, our current security crew, the school seems to have employed some ex-marines. Word is one of them was World’s Strongest Man in 1999.

Parade Ground: Thousands flock to the Eton Action Fair, to thin out their wallets and support hundreds of different charities. Tens of thousands wonder who that man is on the back of The Chronicle?

Gym: PKM is honoured with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel as he takes over the CCF from Mr Wilcockson… Respect…

Common Lane: F block are to be seen running for cover as conkers fly off the feet and out of the hands of the power crazy E block.

Cannon yard Schools: D block’s budding Geographers have a swell day out on their coursework trip to Slough. One woman exclaims “Please don’t give my car a ticket!”, mistaking a boy for a traffic warden.


At some time last week it looks as if Belgium was officially declared pointless. Absent-mindedly flicking through the latest edition of The Economist (which is of course, to my fellow Collegers and I, a cracking good read) I found an editorial concerning this fledgling European nation. It highlighted the political turmoil in which Belgium is languishing (the country is without a government three months after elections) and the social canyon dividing the Dutch-speaking Flemish and the French-speaking Walloons. The article quoted a certain Yves Laterme, who declared sometime this month that the two Belgian social groups have nothing in common except ‘the King, the football team and a few beers’. He speaks the truth. But who is ‘he’? Not the Euro sceptic you might guess, nor the crazy French nationalist. I hope he is not a closet Nazi, either. In fact these are the words of the acting Prime Minister of this country that Lonely Planet grandly describes as ‘the home of the saxophone’.

There is a gaping crater in my cultural experience, never having been to this chocolate-smothered land. I haven’t done extensive research on its history (quite short), its geography (flat) or its great political figures (Poirot). I didn’t even

read The Economist; the paragraph above is sourced from the paraphrased version of the article featured in The Week. But fascinating though Belgium’s cultural schism may be, I think Laterme’s words have more significance when applied to a greater separation. It’s extremely difficult to talk of being ‘British’ nowadays without sounding like David Cameron (though I’m sure he’s proud to be Scottish, Welsh and Irish as well), so I think it’s best to refer to just general divisions between the islands and the mainland (though for almost half a century “Europe the united continent” was hardly a convincing idea, with a concrete wall running down the middle to come to terms with). I think it’s true that in Europe gaps just as wide as the deceptively narrow English Channel exist. We’re all miles, or kilometres, apart, in so many ways. I should not tread clumsily on the politics or the economics because those arguments are left, quite rightly, to those who have a fraction more resources than the various magazines of a depleted House Slab.

On perhaps his most well known and loved songs (the clue’s in the forthcoming handy quote and if you still don’t know where have you been?) John Lennon croons the words “Imagine there’s no

Countries”. Far be it from me to rubbish the esteemed wisdom of the self-styled Walrus, but perhaps John overestimated people. If everyone were as open and clever and wonderful as he was, wore impossibly tight-skin shirts (like he did), had silly haircuts (like he did) and posed for posters holding roses (like he does on a friend’s wall) then perhaps his vision would be achievable. As it is, I think we might be better off accepting that a Utopian super-state in which people wear long, flowing clothes and share cups of sugar (or less suitable white substances) is not the best way to go. It has been attempted under several different incarnations. The most mainstream is called the United Nations, which has the power, when there is a massacre in Rwanda, only to decide that the situation is quite bad. The others are variations on a similar theme: a nice man with twigs in his hair goes to a Pacific island with some like-minded friends, has a great time and never comes back. If only the UN was this powerful. To the innocent bystander, it seems they spend the vast majority of their time in Brussels.

But why was there a massacre in Rwanda in the first place anyway? Again, I am relying mostly on The Week and a selection of Hollywood films but I’ll try

Belgium should settle for a quiet DivorceArchie Cornish KS reflects on Belgium’s ineptitude as a country, and wonders whether it should go through a peaceful partition, with both sides living in isolation like the tribes of Papua New Guinea.

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to give the outlines. The killing was a mutual business between the Tutsi and Hutu populations. Unlike in Iraq, where the sectarian violence seems to be, well, loosely connected to the presence of U.S. troops, the Rwandan massacre has its roots in an openly colonial influence. The tiny country was governed, from 1884 to 1962 (as the pinnacle of intellect and scholarship Wikipedia would have it) by Germany, and later, Belgium. Belgium again? What a coincidence. After the Belgians left in 1962 the Hutus began to get their own back on the Tutsis for having sucked up to the Belgians. Incidentally, do the histories of Zaire and Rwanda, former Belgian territories and the biggest and once-smallest African nations, possibly tell us something about Belgian colonial expertise, seeing as one went through the above massacre and the other was taken over by a chap with a fondness for eating his opponents’ testicles? But we’re getting sidetracked. The point is that much of the trouble in Africa is due to the efforts of the Europeans to fashion various chunks of it into single, easily-governed states. The sad truth is that some groups of people are simply not good at getting along. To group two such groups into a country is

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a mistake on only Belgian proportions (which here, ironically, are huge).

Perhaps Rwanda’s reason for still existing is the fact that everybody speaks the same language (obviously Kinyarwanda). But this is far from true for most of the world. We may cheerfully remark to each other that “learning Spanish’s actually quite easy. It’s basically just Latin and a bit of French”, but we forget that Europe’s languages are almost all related like this. Papua New Guinea (and here is perhaps one of the best ever moments to insert the words “on the other hand”), where, mercifully, none of us ever got, is host to no less than 23 language isolates. This means that in two neighbouring villages, the languages spoken have as much in common as, say, the Queen and Victoria Beckham. It has been like this for thousands of years, and until recently we said haughtily that this was because they were reclusive cannibals that only communicated with drums. But personally, I think it’s quite sensible. Not cannibalism or communicating with drums, you understand, (although the idea has an amazing romance to it) or being reclusive, but none of these archetypes are

true anyway. Imagine, for example, that we were obliged for a certain number of weeks to go and live in France. We would feel out of place, lonely and oddly clean. The phenomenon is true even internally, inside England. Is it necessarily a bad thing that on first listen we might think that Geordies are speaking some particularly inaccessible dialect of Kinyarwanda? Finally, because everything ultimately

does, I think we should relate the whole issue back to our school. In almost everything Eton College does it is separating itself from the rest of the country, distinguishing itself from other schools, classes and styles of dressing. The examples are everywhere. The real reason we are single sex is really that we’re afraid of becoming like everybody else. We have our own rooms because, well, we all know. That’s the point. Belgium should go ahead and have a quiet divorce. The last two people to try to carve out super-empires of unity were Hitler and Stalin. Neither, it has to be said, have gone down massively well. Mr Laterme must just be careful not to wear a headscarf though, or the US might “help” with the division.


‘Pete Doherty’s cat is crack addict!’ declare the latest tabloids, adding to the drug addled saga that has plagued the singer’s life since his rise to fame with old band The Libertines five years ago. The Sun reported how ‘Junkie Pete Doherty is snapped appearing to give his kitten crack – from a mini-pipe he made specially for it’, while other tabloids described how Doherty regularly gives the kitten, called Dinger, crack cocaine to the extent to which it believes it can fly. However, in their frenzied attempts to shock, what the tabloids fail to report is that Peter Doherty is one of Britain’s most talented singer-songwriters of the time. He may be washed up, he may be a junkie, but he is also a deeply gifted lyricist, an area rarely touched upon by the mainstream press. Even Doherty’s most loyal fans are not naïve enough to dismiss claims that is destructive, deluded, and desperate – he is undeniably all three – but he is slowly but surely recovering from his problems (be they drug related, super-model related, or otherwise), and this progress is evident in the improvement of his music over the past few years. In 2002 The Libertines debut album Up The Bracket introduced to us a young, aspiring Doherty, a romantic who sang of Albion while simultaneously providing a sharp yet witty insight into modern British life (with lyrics such as the now infamous “There’s fewer more distressing sights than that/Of an Englishman in a baseball cap” from ‘Time For Heroes’). Doherty, along with sparring partner Carl Barat, became the great hope to resurrect British rock music from the ashes of Britpop. The Libertine’s second self-titled album hinted at the beginning of Doherty’s decline, documenting the breakdown in Doherty and Barat’s relationship through songs such as ‘Can’t Stand Me Now’. Barat tells how “You

twist and tore our love apart”; Doherty retorts with “No, you’ve got it the wrong way round/You shut me out and blamed it on the brown [heroin]” followed later with “I know you lie/All you do is make me cry”. Although the tension between the two front men created a more interesting musical relationship, it was obvious that things were going awry in the Libertines camp. Barat finally disbanded The Libertines soon after Doherty was released from jail after serving time for burgling Barat’s flat. From then on Doherty’s life became a whirlwind of drugs, arrests, court appearances, arrests, drugs, Kate Moss, tabloids, drugs, etc., etc... Around this time Doherty started touring with his new band Babyshambles, which he had formed during the disintegration of the Libertines. Early gigs were shambolic and it was always rather hit and miss as to whether Doherty would even turn up at all. In November of 2005, Down In Albion was released by Babyshambles. It was met with mixed reviews; some people loved its romantic themes and poetic leaning, but many claimed it was scrappy, incoherent, and at times even unmusical. In my opinion the latter are right. True, Down In Albion does have its magical moments, such as ‘Killamangiro’, ‘Fuck Forever’, and most notably ‘Albion’, a touching tribute to modern Britain, featuring lines such as “Down in Albion/They’re black and blue/But we don’t talk about that/Are you from

round here/How do you do/I’d like to talk about that”. However, on the whole the album sounds lazy and sprawling, especially in contrast to the tightness of the Libertines’ albums. In particular Doherty’s performances are poor; vocals consist of hazy mumblings and his guitar playing is spasmodic at times. It seems that this was an album made in Doherty’s darkest period, and as a result the music suffers. At the end of 2006 expectant fans were met with The Blinding EP, a huge step up from the disappointing Down In Albion. The five songs on the EP are much tighter, and Doherty’s performance is much more admirable. ‘Love You But You’re Green’ is a mellow lament, opening with the lines “I was a troubled teen/Who put an advert in a magazine/To the annoyance of my imaginary lover” (and a riff that sounds suspiciously like Van Morrison’s ‘Brown Eyed Girl’!). ‘I Wish’ reveals a ska influence, complete with brass, and ‘Sedative’ contains a huge rousing chorus, that, in Doherty’s own words, ‘Makes Oasis look like the Smurfs.’ Things were obviously improving for Babyshambles with The Blinding EP, a release which in my opinion was one of the best of 2006 from any band. And so we come to Shotter’s Nation, released at the beginning of October of this year. At time of writing I have only had the album for a few days, but already the impression it has made on myself, and indeed on the media has been encouraging. Some people are claiming that the album is not as intimate as Down In Albion, but it seems to me that it is simply a different form of intimacy; instead of spewing his heart out into the microphone, he leads us into his mind and reveals his thoughts in a much more subtle way. On opener ‘Carry On Up The Morning’ Doherty sings “It’s not easy getting out of bed/Ah, it’s too easy getting out my head”, and it

Peter Doherty: what a waster?Johnny Lillis WFM gives us an insight into the past of Pete Doherty, and wonders whether his new album, Shotter’s Nation, will mark a dog turn in his lifestyle and music.


is true to say that self-pity is very much a recurring theme in Doherty’s lyrics throughout the album. Another prevalent change is the new found sophistication introduced by producer Stephen Street (The Smiths, Blur); this is clear in tracks such as ‘You Talk’, a tight, fun, and most importantly listenable track that could never have been found on Down In Albion. The album obviously contains a wide range of influences, ranging from the Kinks on ‘Delivery’ to Jam-style the mood on ‘French Dog Blues’, via ‘There She Goes’, a song underpinned by a groovy upright-bass line, that shuffles along suavely. Songs such as ‘Unstookie Titled’ and ‘UnBiloTitled’ show Doherty’s recurring ability to write mellow, touching numbers that blossom gloriously. His confidence and swagger of old is reaffirmed on songs such as ‘Baddie’s Boogie’, which has the

biting, rising chorus “It’s a lousy life for the washed up wife/With a permanently plastered pissed up bastard”, and on ‘Crumb Begging Baghead’, where he admits “I’m a crumb begging baghead, baby yeah/Bet you say that to all of the girls”. Shotter’s Nation then closes with the poignant ‘Lost Art Of Murder’, a stunning song which, if not actually written about Doherty’s relationship with Kate Moss, is still very applicable:

“What a nice day for a murderYou call yourself a killerBut the only thing you’re killing is your timeThere’s nothing absurderThan a bird that’s a burden to yourHeart, soul, body, spirit and mindDon’t look at me like thatShe won’t take you backDone too much been too unkindGet up off your backStop smoking thatChange your lifeThink it’ll change her mind” – ‘Lost Art Of Murder’

You see, Pete Doherty seems to have got to the stage where he has accepted he is, to use his own words “Fucked, forlorn, frozen beneath the summer” (‘Delivery’), and thus Shotter’s Nation is his chance to tell all who care to listen his side of the story. He comments on his own life: the tag alongs (“You said that you loved me/Why don’t you fuck off” – ‘UnBiloTitled’); his drug problems (“Oh

well I never said it was clever/I just like getting leathered” – ‘You Talk’); tabloid coverage (“They sold my name/After they stole my shame” – ‘Unstookie Titled’). Peter Doherty is much more than just a tabloid junkie rock star. He has inspired a whole generation (including myself) to pick up a guitar and form a band, and the sound of The Libertines can still be heard in nine out of ten bands to emerge from London. He is a cultured, well read man, who cites Oscar Wilde and Joris-Karl Huysmans as two of his biggest influences. He is also an artist (his medium of choice is the slightly unorthodox ‘blood on paper’), as well as fashion designer and model (as well as icon). As a lyricist, his poetical, romantic approach to song-writing differs hugely from almost all other British song-writers, who tend to adopt matter-of-fact narratives, and thus give a fresh outlook on even well-trodden themes. He may be hated by the press, but then so was Keith Richards. Who knows, maybe Carl Barat will go on to receive a knighthood à la Jagger, but I digress. Doherty’s music is on an upward slope, and right now reflects his lifestyle. He has started to sort himself out, and has just completed six weeks in rehab. Provided he can maintain the progress he is making, he obviously still has a very big part yet to play in British rock music, and indeed culture, not just as a tabloid punch bag, but as the gifted musician and lyricist that he is.


Bedtime Story

He Fought the Law

by Fraser Brough

Look at that man with his old gun, its silver silver barrel, long and chic; antique in the moonlight and like his lengthy neck it steels upwards. He marches like a solemn hare - at a funeral. Frantic is inside him - throwing itself against the walls that professionally control it. The entire atmosphere hanging over his head he steps across the sand-1000 worlds cracking under his weight-why don’t they make more noise? KILL. Murder rang in the air – anyone who saw him would know beyond the shadow of any doubt that this man’s intent was violent. Just like these amazing kids who stand at street-corners saying nothing but who exude intimidation with such style that their aggression has become a fashion. This man reached a caravan - devoid of everything except a retired dog who stumbles about half-dead – all the wonders of the world having gone to its head. The dog is all but asleep, lying in the middle of the broken room, unfurnished apart from a dark poster of some sturdy campaigner, whose forbidding face seems to rejoice in the fact that he is locked in the narrows of the two dimensional by nothing more than tradition. It took the man two full hours to open the door to the caravan – barely testing its strength with his fingernails as he pushes it open with such precision that not a creak is heard. With the silence of the desert and his old, grey head buried in the wisdom of his paws, the dog didn’t notice him. This man’s lithe arms rush forward with such sleek strength it can hardly be considered manly. This beautiful revolver holds in it the power to tumble empires, to undo the works of God himself, and yet like the man, it does not quiver. Behind the face of this man thoughts meander. ‘Look at that dog. Just sits there. All day. You’re not lucky - you’re an s**t. I can’t stand it any longer: that big dog - its grey matted hair and tired eyes make it look so stately. I hate it. Fire and damnation- hell look out as I brandish this gun over the lazy beast- this controlling machine that watches me live everyday, I have to think about it and walk it and feed it! I have to feed it!’ With such aggressive thoughts bouncing off the walls of the little caravan the dog raised its head and

saw the man. When their stares met, one with anger, one with acceptance, tears stood in their eyes. The dog lowered its head and prepared for pain. Those blood-shot eyes had distracted the man and now he swayed without a purpose. He fired anyway. The bullet threw itself out of the way of control and in such a rage it drove its head right through the dog’s foot. The dog didn’t even move- it refused to acknowledge the fact that it should be dead and instead just went on lying on the floor, as it had done for so long. At this act of pure ignorance the man became lost. Throwing fashion aside, he clenched his fists right to the bone and bashed its spine until it broke, without a rhythm just a frenzy of violence as passionate atoms raged around the room. With fury he made this old dog bleed. And when in sheer exhaustion from the exercise that comes with hatred he stopped to rest, his ribcage rising and falling with all the might of an overdose. The dog removed its paws from its cowering head and went on being lazy. And so again his wasted feelings turned to rage and he beat the thing until he could beat no more. But try as he might he could not make this diplomat die, its skill at evading death outran his passion for the game every time. They were the most spirited of teams, him and his fists but he could not beat the subtle power that burned below his feet. And while he hit it, he lost sight of the dog and instead swung wildly at an inanimate pillow, a collocation of atoms, an object that was both abstract and material, so much so that it had become impossible to destroy. And so he laid down right next to the law his chest heaving with his sad predicament, for he knew he would be punished for his actions. The dog removed its paws from its bloodied head, and the two of them rested, for the first time, by God’s grace, on which the dog was founded, in harmony with one another.

A Gentleman’s Mantra

Never underestimate the Importance of Being Idle

by Bobby Leigh-Pemberton

There is, on television at the moment, an advert, by vodaphone, in which a man with a silly accent assures us that we can now make use of every single second of every day. I can honestly think of fewer more terrifying prospects than every second of my life being accounted for. I will admit that I am hopelessly lazy. But this term for the fist time since I arrived at this school I have not been forced to squeeze into my shortest shorts and jog up and down a pitch, whilst people who can jog faster than I can look down on me, nor have I had to spend every free second learning lines for some play and nor have I been crushed by a million pages of E block French pamphlet. Instead I have surrendered, totally and utterly, without hope (or indeed desire) of release to the gloriously downy, cosy quilt of absolutely bugger all. I am completely wrapped up in it, and it feels good. I may not have scored more goals than some other twit in lycra, I may not have won critical acclaim on the stage, I may not have been awarded some book tokens for wearing my fingers to the bone over some ghastly essay, but I have written reams of letters, I have improved myself with decent and wonderfully trashy literature, I have listened to whole operas from to start to end on CD, I have arranged my room so minutely that I feel entirely at home in it, I have drunk enough hot ribena to kill better men, I have finally started to ‘get’ Leonard Cohen, I have been to every society meeting that has caught my eye, I have spent whole hours just lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I have started to drink loose tea because I can, I have read the whole of newspaper articles, in short, I have made myself more content than any amount of organised time filling could ever do. William Henry Davies expressed what I am attempting to say far more eloquently than I ever could:

What is this life if full of careWe have no time to stand and stare?

…No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,


Guru

Steak and Beer day

by Ze Beast

Is there anyone under the sun who is not aware of the pathetic excuse to rekindle ye good ol’ days of chivalry and courtly love endorsed by the so called “public holiday” of February the fourteenth? Well, allegedly a “public holiday” if one even dares to call it that. What is Valentine’s Day really all about: Chocolates? £3.99 Cava? Love letters? The colour pink? Cupids? All of these seem pretty irrelevant in the era of gym rats, the internet and multi-faith societies. Now, opportunistic companies such as Clinton’s or the local supermarket have indulged in commercialising this occasion by stocking up with noxious, nauseating cards every year and raking in massive profits, from a day which I have always thought to have been rather make-believe. Sure, this is a joyous time of year for all those who claim to be “In Love” or to be suffering a synonymously outlandish hormonal attraction, but if one takes a minute to truly admire the underlying connotations of Valentine’s Day it would be an event that would imminently be ripped out of the calendar. Valentine’s Day is commonly perceived as the sole date for young loves to ignite and share their undying passion, love and romance with each other. However, on a dramatically darker note, Valentine’s Day is also one for desperate, failed old men to release some of their heaped tension with the aid of a younger woman under similar circumstances for a modest fee, due to their gaping deficiency of a life and their essential nothingness. It is also a widely known fact that prostitutes earn more cash on Valentine’s Day than on any other day of the year. Furthermore on this day there is also the looming superstition of disastrous relationships forming, and who needs romance when a sloppy, drunken fling does the trick for most? Valentine’s Day is not worth the trouble of trying to chat up some unsuspecting lass when it can be just as effective all year round on ten pints of Stella. Of course, there are specific repercussions after Valentine’s Day as well, such as clinginess, monogamy, her

saying she wants to wait, the temporary end of your lad’s nights out, having to spend your pint money on her, your mates having second thoughts about your sexuality, and finally, the most feared of all post Valentine’s day dates: MARRIAGE...

Therefore geniuses with far too much time on their hands, and something else too, have devised a day (14th March) which incorporates the things that men love the most: steak and beer. One cannot be a real man until one honestly appreciates a thick, chunky morsel of flesh, since there is nothing more pleasant to the tongue than the tingling, teasing sensation of a dead beast’s haemoglobin. In the eyes of many, vegetarianism is not healthy nor is it for those whom possess a Y chromosome. Once the steak has been guzzled down accompanied by a healthy portion of chips with the garden salad left aside; finally what better way to please the man than the scared art of pouring gallons and gallons of beer down his throat. For the giver it is utterly essential that he/she is aware of the importance of premium quality beer, and that this would be the coup de grace of an outstanding evening. Moreover since the man would have paid for the madam’s evening a month ago, it is only just that she return the favour so to speak, by busying themselves solely with filling up their partner’s glass and cooking a healthy portion of red meat. This day should not be regarded nor frowned upon by feminists as it relates directly to Valentine’s Day ,the more effort and appreciation he gives on her day the better his steak is cooked on his. The principal advantage of Steak and Beer day (for men) is that it is not necessarily like Valentine’s day but a much less formal yet more enjoyable occasion for all guys on a world wide scale. As many chauvinists would agree with me flowers and chocolates are for our ladies whereas a slab of meat and a “couple” of pints would be far more satisfying than a so called ”romantic”, candlelight dinner strenuously organised for that one particular day. It’s not our kind of thing.

And watch her feet, how they can dance.…

A poor life this, if full of care,We have no time to stand and stare.

I do have the time to stand and stare. I have all the time I like, I can spend hours watching “beauty’s feet”, I am happy to stare as long as any cow, and as those of you who have come across cows reasonably often will know, there is no look of contentedness in this universe to match that of a cow’s.

I imagine that there will be those of you who just think that I have been wasting vast acres of my time. I am not going to fight this off too much, I will just say this; you are wrong, you have been misguided and you are scared to realise it because it means that you, not I, have been wasting time. And you’ve taken a hell of a lot more effort to do it.


Why do you do this and is this what you’d most like to have done?

Well, I suppose journalism, if that’s what you mean, is what I’ve done since I was at school. I wrote to various people who interested me, including Alec Guinness, Davis Hockney, and Henry Moore and thought, wow, you can write to quite important people and they will sometimes write back to you and talk to you. I helped start something called the Eton contemporary art society where we used to invite people down to the school and I would interview them on stage at School Hall. We had people including Roald Dahl to Joanna Lumley to Peter Cook, and we tried to get a punk star called Polystyrene but he kept backing out and so I had to keep giving people their 50 pences back which is what it cost. There was always a sense of enjoying getting a response from people.

When you were at Eton would you have been embarrassed to say you were going to work at the Tatler?

I would never have imagined I would work at the Tatler, my first job was as a crime reporter in Deptford in South east London. Then I was on the Today Newspaper and then I was on the Daily Mail and then the Sunday Times for 12 years where I was the literary editor. So I went from a very mainstream career to a society magazine called Tatler.

Michael Meredith said that you got into journalism in the worst way possible. Do you agree?

I thought in some ways it was the best way. You know, you can never start too low, and I was in a very lowly role on a weekly paper in London called the South East Kent and London Mercury and it was very local news but, you know, I had a great time. They sent me to the Falklands as there were lots of soldiers from south east London; I joined at the hard news end. I think Michael Meredith thought one should be an editor from day one but it was a twenty-year journey to be there. I remember when I first met Joanna Quicke the actress, when I was a tiny bit older than you fellows, (15) and she said it will take you 15 years to get where you want and I thought, oh, how ridiculous. But, there was a certain truth to what she said.

Do you find it difficult to edit a magazine aimed solely at women?

I’m very lucky that I have about thirty women surrounding me so I can ask what they think, and, do you know, essentially there is a big difference and essentially there is no difference between men and women, you know they are more interested in fashion, and handbags, and clothes, and beauty treatments, although men are increasingly interested in the beauty industry they are not so upfront about it. Our buyers of the magazine are essentially women but our circulation of

readers includes many men. I do what interests me, you know, so last week I was in Paris interviewing a designer; I’m going to interview an author tomorrow who lives in Sisinghurst in Kent. I’m very lucky because Tatler allows you to go and interview whoever you want from poets to rock stars to writers to models to hedge fund kings. We had an interview with George Osborne. You know, it’s a bit like a grown up school magazine.

In 2005 The Observer called you Britain’s most connected man. Would you agree?

Well if you are editor of Tatler you do meet a lot of people and I enjoy that. I’m quite good at staying in touch with people I like: for instance when I was 15 in 1976 I went to interview David Hockney, and just a few days ago I went to interview him in Milan again. So, I’m quite good at maintaining friendship. I like people, essentially.

How do you think that the Tatler can continue to make money in the “internet age” when magazines are losing money fast?

Well, we are very lucky: we seem to be countering the trend, we have just had our highest circulation ever, and we have had our highest revenues ever, so I think there is still a market for high-end glossy magazines where there is a sense of luxury, and it is very hard to get a sense of luxury on the internet. You know, we

Interview with ‘Britain’s most connected man’:Geordie Greig, Editor of Tatler


have the richest readers in Europe. We are very lucky; we have a lot of money to spend which brings in the advertisers which allows us to do very aspirational stories. People like holding magazines. It’s more difficult to surf the net in your bath but you can read Tatler in the bath.

Do you think Damien Hirst will be remembered in 100 years?

I think Damien will be known as a footnote rather than a major person in the art world. But I may be wrong- who would have thought that Andy Warhol would be seen as such a major figure today? And he certainly does very arresting images. Although they may not even last, the sharks and the other items seem to be rotting so he may just be a distant memory, but I suspect he will not be a major influence.

Do you think there’s something phoney about modern artists who don’t actually make their own works?

I don’t think it’s phoney in that it’s the reaction of the audience that matters as much as what they’ve created. And to some extent some of the great Renaissance artists used people in their studio to create things, to fill in the bits of paint, but I do think there’s a distance from the viewer of art if it’s all totally disconnected from the making by a human hand. I think often the making of art by a human hand seems to bring me, a greater connection and a greater reality of what it’s about.

Who do you think is the sexiest person you’ve ever had to interview?

Golly, I suppose I interviewed Mischa Barton last week and we photographed her again. Madonna’s pretty enticing, but I think Mischa Barton seizes it.

Do you still need a double-barrelled surname to work at Tatler?

Definitely not! I don’t really mind where people come from as long as they’re curious, funny, clever, energetic and enthusiastic. Clearly we cover a social world so we do like people interested in

socialising, so that’s pretty far reaching today.

What do you think of Graydon Carter? Would you ever like to take over from him at Vanity Fair?

I think Graydon is a fantastically clever and successful and brilliant editor. As far as I know there’s no vacancy. Vanity Fair is a great magazine to edit and a job anyone in the industry would, if it was offered their way, have a great temptation to go and ride that road.

Where you ever in the bystander section of Tatler?

No. I longed to be at one stage but I don’t think I ever was. I think at your age I had friends I knew who were in it. when I got married Harpers and Queen did pictures from my wedding but Tatler no. I sort of have a rule that I try to keep myself out of Tatler - for instance most editors write a letter at the beginning of each magazine but I stopped that as soon as I came.

What’s your favourite magazine apart from Tatler?

Well, I love the New Yorker. I always find I spend hours reading that, and I love the Sunday Supplements, and I like Vanity Fair very much. I wasn’t a very magaziney person till I took over and now I’m much more appreciative of the different magazines and I read quite a lot of them. I like Dazed and Confused, I tend to go from that to Country Life to Vanity Fair to the New Yorker.

Why did you move across from being Literary Editor of the Sunday Times to the Editor of Tatler?

Well I got a call saying, ‘this is probably the most bizarre call you’ve ever received but please don’t put the phone down. Will you consider being editor of Tatler?’ My current boss Nicholas Coleridge made that call, and I thought about it and I thought about having my own ship to sail rather than being just a supplement on a much bigger paper, and I thought it’d be exciting

to do my own thing. Condé Nast is a fantastic company, It’s probably the most generous company to journalists in terms of giving them space to do what they want, so I weighed all that up and thought I’ll give it a go.

Who would you most like to interview?

J.D. Sallinger, author of Catcher in the Rye, who’s been a recluse for 50 years.Whoever gets him has got front page of almost every newspaper in the world.

You are known as the ‘discerner of trends in London society.’ Do you have any tips?

Follow your instinct rather than the herd; individuality is what people notice rather than trying to keep up with the Joe Bloggses. That can be from having interests in goldfish breeding, to how to tie your tie, to how to read Shakespeare or think about the theatre. Whatever you’re interested in, follow your passion.

Thee Ton Zeitgeist

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