The past few years have been an age of abundance for the news columnist. For pretty much everyone else, they have been an age of gathering chaos and rising disbelief. The news gods are so deeply committed to providing their own metaphors that our septic isle is now literally lapped at by tides of sewage. I don’t know if future historians will officially slap the permacrisis label on us, but as someone whose job it is to write about the news, I need hardly point out there hasn’t exactly been a shortage of material. Even I am on the point of launching a “Stop the news” campaign, and will inform you of how to join the push for total stasis as soon as I get membership badges sorted.
This has been a period when it often seemed like the UK (and beyond) had tumbled down a rabbit hole. Or gone through the looking-glass. Or maybe got trapped in the ancient curse: “May you live in interesting times.” Things seem to have become permanently “interesting”.
