BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE It’s 11:30 am, the telephone is calling for attention again. Of what and with whom I did last night, I can remember not a sodding thing. I reach with trembling hands for the whisky. After nights of drink, I feel the need to pour another just before negotiating with the mirror, and, as I do, I tell myself I can’t live on … Continue reading Lost Boys
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE ‘You seem an odd choice for a guard,’ I told the chap on the door to no reply. He stood pressed against the railing, dressed in Victorian finery and smelling of mothballs. His silence I put down not to rudeness but to his being a stuffed bear. ‘James!’ some lovely voice called from inside. ‘Oh, you’ve met Monty! I’m so pleased.’ This … Continue reading Bear Magnet
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE I am being admitted to a health spa today at my friend’s insistence. Before Health, there’s no word more offensive to my ear. How people can faff about with cabbage soup, yogic meditation or whatever the hell else it is these fanatics get up to, I’ll never know. And why is it that ‘wellness’ gurus always look so ghastly ill? I suppose … Continue reading Hard Massage
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE On my third listen to the recording, I accepted there was nothing to hear. Words, words, torrents of words and none worthwhile. How did it happen? How could the most boring interview of my life have been with a prostitute? For months, I had skirted the borders of iniquity in search of a story so ugly as to be unprintable. A revolt … Continue reading Gabriel
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE An art gallery in Shoreditch, about nine in the evening. In front of me is, according to the gallerist’s demented assessment, an art piece: a blue squiggle on a blank canvas. And behind me are ten people gathered to hear my verdict on it. The fact is, I have passed myself off as an art critic in order to crash one of … Continue reading Gallery Party
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE As opening sentences go, ‘You f*cking Nazi c*nt,’ takes some beating. This was the charge made against Andrew Doyle not by some faceless internet troll but by an old friend to whose son he is the godfather. A left-wing homosexual with a doctorate in early Renaissance poetry, Doyle makes an unlikely flagbearer for fascism. In fact, it’s hard to imagine anyone to … Continue reading The New Puritans
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE It is 1 am, and a woman is rubbing her rear cheeks against my front ones while asking if I like what I see, but they are so large that I can see very little. This is the Soho strip club, one of the few places left where one can get a drink at this hour. Late-night drinking has become the object … Continue reading Soho After Midnight
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE At 5 pm on Wednesday, March 15, 2017, Isobel Weber died much as she lived: dressed in high fashion, sipping champagne and surrounded by no one. Turn the clock back two years, and I’m sitting with her in the Kronenhalle restaurant, Zurich, struggling to make sense of what she’s saying. Her lips are moving, but they’ve just had about 5 vials of … Continue reading Hollow Fillers
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE Konstantin Kisin is a comedian, political commentator and co-host of the widely celebrated show TRIGGERnometry. His first book, An Immigrant’s Love Letter to the West, serves as a warning siren to those who take for granted the freedoms that Western Civilisation affords; freedoms of which Kisin’s grandparents – under the oppressions of Soviet Russia – could have only dreamed. Britain’s middle-class commentariat … Continue reading An Immigrant’s Love Letter to the West
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE Titling her book on the assumption that it has, Joanna Williams delivers a powerful critique against this cultural cancer which has now metastasised itself into every aspect of our lives. It may seem absurd to afford a tabloid buzzword like Woke with any degree of intellectual seriousness, but Williams’ arguments – peppered with persuasive evidence and delivered in a scholarly and detached … Continue reading Has Woke Won?
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE ‘Scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight.’ – David Livingstone I recently saw the scenes described by Livingstone – by flight, as it happens – and they were indeed lovely. But lovely seems too modest a word to describe Victoria Falls. Today, with helicopter tours on offer, we can view the Falls as Livingstone imagined the … Continue reading Victoria Falls
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE ‘15m jabs to freedom.’ Daily Mail, 27 Dec 2020 That headline, along with similar slithery talk of ‘a way out’ and a vaccine with a ‘100% effective rate’, left people with the not unreasonable impression there may come a time when they can go about their lives without the say so of a blond-haired blobfish. But the 15 million jabs came and … Continue reading How the Government Stole Christmas
BY QUENTIN PIGG ‘The virus is bringing out the best of us’, proclaimed an anti-Brexit campaign group. Well, yes, in so much as UV light brings out the best of a befouled mattress. And what sordid stains Covid has illuminated in our society: misanthropy, hypocrisy, adultery and a spike in domestic violence – not since Chantelle won Celebrity Big Brother has credulity been so widely … Continue reading Few Search for Truth
BY DOMINIC WIGHTMAN I am not fond of business meetings on Saturdays. I treasure the weekends – time to spend with the family. Nonetheless, a trip to Buxton did seem appealing. The elegant town that is Buxton has been welcoming visitors to enjoy its natural thermal springs and superb setting three hundred metres above sea level since Roman times. Known then as Aquae Arnemetiae, or … Continue reading Beautiful Buxton
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE ‘Beauty is a natural superiority.’ – Plato Plato’s words resonate such potent and piercing truth, one imagines them chiseled into the Athens Parthenon under which he spoke them. But postmodernism can take even the most unyielding of truths and reflect them back on us as a liquid lie. Postmodernist distortion now manifests itself in every discussion on aesthetics. Take, for instance, the … Continue reading Build Back Bath
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE When my Editor suggested I try some undercover work, I had Andy Ngo in mind, or more to the point, his recent bestseller. If Ngo could make a career out of those who elude one (the ANTIFA vagrants of Portland) then why couldn’t I? Lord knows Britain has its own fair share of far-left activists who would readily beat people to a … Continue reading I am a Furry
BY DOMINIC WIGHTMAN I felt sorry for our Deputy Editor – my mate, James Bembridge – this weekend when he came under attack from Owen Jones and his leftist hordes in one of those Twitter pile-ons the Left so relish. There were numerous tweets suggesting that Bembers’ hard-drive needed checking. Bembers was accused of being a ‘nonce’ by multiple smearers, some of whom – including … Continue reading Nonce!
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE Stancliffe Hall, not sane, stood by itself against its woods, holding darkness within; it has stood for hundreds of years and may stand for hundreds more. After reading the account of my years spent there, I hope you won’t think it too silly of me to apply the opening lines of Shirly Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House to my former boarding … Continue reading The Haunting of Stancliffe Hall
BY JAMES BEMBRIDGE One cannot browse Tory Twitter without noticing a disturbing lack of diversity among its younger members. Predictably, a great deal of them are of the now proscribed ‘male and pale’ variety. Less predictable, though, is how many happen to be avowed homosexuals. This would be unusual for any party, let alone an allegedly conservative one. Strange then that no one has cared … Continue reading Why Are So Many Conservatives Gay?
CSM EDITORIAL Christmas last year was rotten for the Big state pro-EU crowd, especially for those MSM activist-journalists and other partisans caught up in the Westminster bubble. The General Election result was a recurring nightmare in the week leading up to Christmas night for the Soubrys and Campbells. So, having Dominic Cummings snookered just five months later seemed like Christmas was here again – this … Continue reading Cummings
