Going after Russian Dark money could cause house prices in Central London to crash overnight.
Rents could plummet, jeopardising the livelihoods of tens of thousands of landlords.
Hold Mr Putin to account, robustly, by all means. But do so sensibly. Pragmatically. Declare war.
He’s 27. He’s ‘gotten in to climbing’ recently. His hairline is retreating. He’s starting to realise he should have married his second year girlfriend.
Tube is full. Elderly woman hobbling about, looks at me expectantly. I lean forward, as if to get off my seat.
Her eyes light up. I point behind me to the sign saying ‘not all disabilities are visible’. Back to Candy Crush. Saga.
If young people continue to ‘work’ from home, they won’t learn how to slack off in a high pressure environment.
Minimising tabs quickly. Clicking about aimlessly on Excel. The hour long loo breaks.
Crucial soft skills you won’t pick up without a manager hovering over you.
When a group of surly young men get on to my train carriage and play their ‘drill music’, I nod along and tap my feet to the beat.
I am a Londoner. These are the rhythms of my city. You, a frightened Home Counties mouse, will never understand that.
Walking around an English cathedral with another educated person is a true test of endurance.
Who can keep walking around looking contemplative for the longest? The first to move to the exit; philistine.
From my understanding of the military situation, now is not the time for Zelenskiiy to hold talks. He should press his overwhelming advantage, push on to Moscow. Don't let Putin slip the net with some diplomatic ploy.
The wine is excellent, the conversation better. Another Islington evening of erudite excess.
One man, less well adjusted than the rest, speaks:
‘The situation in Kiev’.
All talking stops, as the ‘K’ slur is left to hang. Drinks are left half finished. Cabs are called.
Step 1: Kemi Badenoch becomes PM.
Step 2: The Woke Left realise they were the Real Racists all along, and crumble in to dust.
Step 3: Clarkson back on Top Gear.
Putin has made a massive miscalculation here. NATO has never been more United.
From Washington, to Gdańsk, the entire Western alliance is watching him invade Ukraine on the telly. Together.
You can steal someone’s dog, mate, you can break in to someone’s home. Threaten to kill. It’s not your fault they shut those SureStart centres.
But the second you put that video on the net - you’ve committed an Online Harm. Unforgivable. HMP Belmarsh.
Multiculturalism has failed? Well riddle me this Cruella de Populism. I’m currently sat down in front of a Lamb Rogan Josh. And in my right hand? An Erdinger. Explain.
Girlfriend’s cheating on you? Can’t make rent? Dad’s got Cancer? Leave it at the door.
You are in the office now. It’s time to Engage with the Stakeholders. Come on Mate. The whole Team is counting on you.
The Weaver Line: an entire section of the transport network permanently dedicated to Dame Jackie Weaver. A monument to the Stakeholders. To the Teams call. To the cuppa.
Lockdown may be paused for now - but the Revolution is permanent.
The walk out of Finsbury Park station is cruelly deceptive. A Gails next to an M&S. You feel safe. You let your guard down. You have no idea what horrors await you around the corner.
We don’t need HS2. What we need is NHS2. A health service for the digital age. A health service with USB charging ports so people can learn to code during A&E waits.
Time for the government to get a grip. Time to:
🔒Lock down
🚨Declare a climate emergency
🇪🇺Apologise to Europe
💷Invest in the communities
🏛 Devolve foreign policy to metro mayors
🏠Ban the construction of all new buildings
👨🎓 New graduate tax to be paid on top of student loan
Draft them. Get the snowflakes out of their dreary University Halls (a pragmatic Oxbridge exception) and on to the front line.
Me? Fight? Alas, and with a heavy heart, I’ve got flat feet. It wouldn’t be safe.
When I ask ‘where are you from’, I’m really asking which borough of London. If you hail from outside the M25, please just say ‘England’. I will not have heard of your suburb ‘near Manchester’.
I never voted for him (I swear). But since Cameron has taken over as foreign secretary - I’ve felt this indescribable sense of safety.
When the planes fly overhead, I no longer shiver - fearful. No Nuclear weapons will hit London. Not with this Credibility. Thank you, Daddy.
An invasion of Russia would mean employment for thousands of left behind working class men in the likes of Blackpool, and Manchester.
It is the very definition of Levelling Up.
If you only stay up all night for the General Elections and referendums don’t try and talk to me about Politics. You are like a ‘Christian’ who swans in to church once a year for Easter.
3:44 AM. Red eyes. Mid Bedfordshire. Tamworth. That’s what separates the men from the boys.
Look, I was fairly sure we could make Afghanistan work. It hasn’t turned out exactly to plan, but it was worth a try.
Now it’s only fair that you lot pitch in and accommodate thousands of Afghan refugees.
Not in Islington mind, no chance they’ll be able to afford living here.
I might go all out this Christmas, an enormous outdoor lights display. Illuminated reindeer; the full Monty.
Déclassé, in times gone by, but with bills soaring, it will be a raw, naked expression of Power.
During Windrush, Jamaican men and women were confronted by signs saying: No dogs, no blacks, no Irish.
60 years later, Ukrainians fleeing war are forced to see the K slur plastered on the side of respectable supermarkets. Shameful. Appalling.
Putin may have silenced his internal critics for now, but he hasn’t won the Argument. Prigozhin may be dead, but his dream isn’t; a liberal (in the classic sense of the term) Russia that sits at the very Heart of Europe.
The pull factors to Britain are obvious. Pret A Manger. Gastropubs. ‘Italian-style’ Delis called ‘The Root’. The North London dinner party circuit.
There is one tool, and one tool alone that can stop refugees from risking a trip across the channel. Another Lockdown.
You, you, you want to sell of social housing in London? Oh? Well riddle me this. Where is my cleaner going to live? Where you will be quartering my indentured Deliveroo servants?
If walking around a building that isn’t made of medium density fibrewood and plastic reminds you of ‘Hogwarts’, you should keep that very depressing insight to yourself.
If 70 percent of pubs close, the small rump that survives will be those with clientele who can afford the £10 pint.
A great cleansing. Away with the terrifying flat-roofs festooned with Sky Sports banners. Leaving only the best gastropubs, with the chunkiest of chips.
Comparing the nightlife of London and Leeds is utterly spurious. Northerners go on until the early hours because they don’t need a good nights sleep to function in retail jobs.
City bankers, top lawyers and fast streamers need their kip to keep the country moving. Lights out.
Just had a peek at a tenants gas bill (very much NOT included). Oh crumbs! 🤣
Today marks the end of an Era. Of cheapness. Of vulgarity. Of Ryan Air flights, ‘ready to eat’ chicken and calorie surpluses.
A new dawn has broken, has it not?
Children are being preyed on by sexual predators online. This is why we have to make it illegal to quote tweet me and call me a fat idiot.
No, you cannot have these two pieces of legislation separately.
Just finished laying out mandatory Christmas lunch for tenants. Socially distanced, of course. £7 a pop. No butter, obviously, don’t want them getting ideas.
An exclusive upper-middle class pleasure; cc’ing in a friend who studied Law at University to intimidate Customer Service people.
As soon as they see the @.slaughterandmay - terror.
You will send me a technical engineer to show me how to unlock my iPad, Virgin Media: Pro Bono.
Bit worried my non-driving tenants aren’t getting to take part in the cost of living crisis. Considering yet another rent rise so they can stick two fingers up to Mr Putin.
Accidentally click on a WhatsApp notification from a tenant I’ve been ignoring. The usual blah blah about brown tap water and conjunctivitis.
Tell her I’ll be setting up a Taskforce to Tackle her maintenance issues head on, once the summer dinner party circuit winds down.
Geneva airport. Non-EU gate. 'Keep it together Tim, we're British. We love a good Queue.'
But the wry smirk from the Swiss border guard is too much to bear. As he stamps my Passport with the mark of Cain, the tears begin to flood.
Julian’s latest fling, ‘Freya’ is around for dinner. 2nd generation Oxford. Fine, she can eat inside, but don’t expect me to make an effort.
As she waffles on about ‘Being Real’, mind wanders. Sunak v Starmer General Election. Pragmatism. Policy. Mouth watering. Quite literally.
Hi, my names Tim, I’m a landlord. From London, obviously. My fun fact is that I invented converting living rooms in to bedrooms in houses of multiple occupancy.
I’ve considered it, and concluded that opening my home to a Ukrainian refugee would be an act of unkindness.
Six months; accompanying me on the Heath, to the right sort of dinner parties. Ottolenghi. Endless Ottolenghi.
The rest of their lives will seem so grey by comparison.
Just found out Penny Mordaunt went to Reading University. Not even a Russler.
Diversity is brilliant, but there has to be a line somewhere. We are on the eve of war in Europe. Let’s not get led in to it by a Donkey.
Pop myself down on the barber’s chair. First words out of my mouth: ‘so what’s this European Super League bollocks about?’
Instant relief on his face when he realises that, despite my plummy tones and Oxbridge heritage, I’m just a normal Bloke like him.
One of the burdens of being a funny bloke is that it always seems like you are flirting at social events.
Dagger eyes from Fiona as I finish off my recitation of one of David Mitchell’s soap box ‘angry rants’, to many peals of feminine laughter. Listen love, I can’t help it.
Right, enough packets of lays by the pool, time for a cultural trip.
Huffing and puffing around a church in shorts and sandals, preferably during a service. Photographing every square inch of the place on my iPad. This is the life.
I’m thinking re China: is it time to cash in the Soft Power from our Schools and Universities?
We could turn around and say: listen. You moped around Brighton for three years drinking bubble tea - so take it easy on the Cyber Attacks.
Ukrainian flag pin. ✅
Poppy. ✅
‘I got vaccinated’ sticker. ✅
Beginning to resemble a highly decorated North Korean General in appearance (and human rights record).
Think I’ll go for the Northern line today. Two suitcases, both empty.
You cannot prove in a court of law that I am spending my early retirement travelling at Rush hour to frustrate commuters.
I warned you all. Mortgages are a scam; leaving you at the mercy of interest rates. Very much looking forward to welcoming formerly smug ‘first time buyers’ to the rental market.
Real sense of Togetherness in the Hampstead Marks + Spencers as The Great British Buzzer sounds.
‘Oop, crumbs, yep, it’s today isn’t it!’ Smiles on faces. Takes me right back to clapping for our Nurses. More of this please.
That Balloon story was so wasted on America. We Brits would have made a proper job of celebrating the whimsy of it.
Name it something hilarious like ‘Balloony McBalloon face’. Philomena Cunk interviewing a replica of it for Red Nose Day. Instant national treasure.
I remain a believer in the Good Friday Agreement. But I can’t help but feel a British government would handle these disturbances more appropriately.
Put up a stage. Parents of the murdered kids and Communities linking hands together. “Don’t look back in anger, I hear you say…”
Is there a doctor onboard this plane?
On a British Airways flight departing Heathrow at 10:05, it’s probably a yes.
Ryanair departing Stansted at 6:35? Oh dear. Best of luck with the Heart Attack.
I don’t care if the rest of the train is empty. I paid for this seat, and you are in it. So you will unplug your mobile Smartphone charger, re-seal your packet of Maltesers and pack up your laptop.
And you will move.
People complain a lot about ‘hot-desking’, but is there any greater joy than turning up half an hour late to work and kicking a subordinate off your desk?
Like a stout piglet, pushing the runt of the litter off it’s teat.
Remember son, when my heart finally gives out in forty years you’ll inherit everything. Then, and only then, you’ll finally be able to afford to have children. You just have to wait patiently.
He passed the Situational Judgement Test, Mr Raab, and so possesses the Mandate of Heaven. You, a mere elected politician, would do well to remember that.
Just think about how difficult it will be for Islamists to intimidate politicians once we build our Assembly of the Nations and Regions.
Metro Mayors. Citizens juries. Offices for Scrutiny. A mind boggling maze of unaccountable Stakeholders. They’ll have no idea who to harass.