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The Guardian
20-06-2025
- Automotive
- The Guardian
Cars and steps do not mix: why The Italian Job has a lot to answer for
The 1969 caper The Italian Job spawned a Hollywood remake, helped drive the cool-factor of the Mini and launched decades of dad-jokes about bloody doors being blown off. It may also have inspired one driver who got stuck trying to travel down the Spanish Steps in Rome this week. The film ended with Michael Caine teetering on the edge of a cliff in a coach, claiming to have a 'great idea'. In Rome, the 80-year-old's navigational error on his way to work ended with emergency services having to bring in a crane to winch his vehicle off the Italian capital's landmark. But it is not only in Rome where steps, or indeed navigational issues, can create havoc for drivers. In the slightly less celebrated surrounds of north London's Maitland Park estate, residents have been complaining about drivers getting their cars stuck trying to rehash one of the film's most famous scenes by driving down a small flight of steps. According to the Camden New Journal, five cars met their match on the five concrete steps within the space of a month last year, with some of the drivers reportedly blaming their satnav apps for leading them there. One resident, Aron Kennedy, posted online about the phenomenon, which he referred to as a 'new Camden tourist attraction along with Karl Marx'. He told the paper: 'If it happens one more time I think we might have to get a living statue of a car stuck there permanently.' In Plymouth in 2017, it was reported that a driver turned off a road, through the gap in railings at a pedestrian crossing, across the pavement and through a covered walkway leading under a block of flats and a small supermarket, before parking the silver Vauxhall Corsa facing downwards on a flight of steps. All because the satnav had reportedly said to turn left at Tesco. And so many lorries have got stuck following their satnavs down a narrow country lane in Cornwall that one man reportedly paid £150 for a large yellow sign that read, in block capitals: 'Do not follow satnav. This route is unsuitable. You will get stuck.' According to a local newspaper report last month, this was not enough to stop it happening yet again. In Somerset, by a 6ft-wide lane, stands a house that has reportedly sustained £50,000 of damage over several years of HGV drivers trying to force their way past while following directions on their devices. And those are just domestic tales of driving woe. Driving when abroad can be particularly confusing. Guardian readers have been sharing some of their own experiences. Otieno Okatch said he and his wife, from California, rented a car in Switzerland during the annual Fasnacht celebrations. 'One day, we ended up in downtown Lucerne and got lost. The streets were oddly empty. We turned the corner and had inadvertently entered the city Fasnacht parade. We were mortified. A police escort had to help us get out as thousands stared at the two foreigners.' Anand Ranganathan, also from California, told of an experience when he and his wife were in Arles, France while touring the country about 14 years ago. Forced by hefty mobile roaming charges to follow printed-out Google Maps directions to their hotel, they were sent down a 'one-lane road that had a retractable bollard in the middle of it'. He said: 'Only drivers who had a special code were allowed to go through it ... Of course, we didn't realise this until we got close to the bollard. Now we were stuck. There was a line of cars behind us and a bollard in front of us … The cars behind us were honking, the driver immediately behind us was cursing us in well-considered French, and I was standing there gesticulating to indicate that I was but a lost tourist.' To stairs in London and Devon, narrow lanes in Cornwall and Bouches-du-Rhône, add for one driver: a picturesque flight of steps in the heart of the Italian capital.
Spectator
18-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Spectator
I'm pseudy and proud
What does it mean to be a 'pseud'? I hadn't thought a great deal about it, until a passage from a piece I'd written about semicolons made it into Private Eye's venerable Pseuds Corner. It appears just after a conversation between two AIs, and above a breathless quote from Meghan Markle (for it is she). Members of the public submit what they consider to be 'pseudy', and everyone laughs. I've always enjoyed it, and I was so delighted to be featured (I mean, Will Self's been in there!) that the column is on its way to the framers as we speak. To share some pages with Craig Brown, whose satirical bite in his diary is so excellent at exposing the emptiness of contemporary culture, is heavenly. But should it have been in there? Torn out of its context, my prose indeed is florid: Formed from two other punctuation marks, it [the semicolon] is a gorgeous, enigmatic, humanist chimera. It more closely resembles a gentleman, on the edge of his chair, leaning slightly forwards, poised to hear the aphorism fall from your learned lips. It is the jewelled hand, held out to be kissed; it is the tactful recognition of a guest in the glittering salon. Overblown? Yes. But the piece had begun with a request to the reader to rub ashes into your hair at the demise of this punctuation mark – did the person who sent it in to Private Eye think that I really meant that? The piece was an exercise in playful hyperbole; my tongue was, quite firmly, in my cheek. It was, in short, an extended joke, and a sincere one too: the opposite, in fact, of pseudery. Yes, I care deeply about semicolons, and yes, I'm happy to deploy a range of literary techniques to mourn its passing – isn't that what writing is? There doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason as to what ends up in Pseuds Corner: sports writers feature heavily, and indeed, Dan Carrier of the Camden New Journal is in there with a comparison between the Basques and Tottenham Hotspur. (I think it's actually quite good.) The AI conversation surely doesn't count, because AIs don't have a concept of pseudery. They're not real! They can't be pretentious! What about Meghan Markle? The Cali Duchess muses: 'I think it speaks to this chapter many of us find ourselves in, where none of us are one note. But I believe all the notes I am playing are part of the same song.' Sure, it's meaningless, and to say that the metaphors are mixed would be an understatement, but isn't she – and heaven forfend that I'm actually defending Miss Markle here – trying to articulate something that she truly means, but lacks the rhetorical ability to formulate? As a form of literary criticism, then, it seems that Pseuds Corner essentially comprises 'things that Private Eye readers think are pretentious'. Which is to say, jargon, extended metaphors, and anything that smacks of fanciness or, as with Markle, flummery. Private Eye wants writers to be blunt, concrete, and to the point. Perhaps this is a result of its largely grammar/minor-public school and Balliol conception in the 1970s, and its distrust of anything that smacks of aristocracy or academia. It's a bit like the Augustan poets, with their ornate phrasing, being shoved out of the way by Wordsworth, with his old men and daffodils. Experimenting with language; employing unusual vocabulary; working with extended metaphors: these are good and necessary parts of a vital literary landscape Where would we be, though, if everything was as Private Eye wished? If my piece on semicolons simply ran: 'Aren't semi-colons great, and I'm really sad that no one's using them any more,' would readers have responded to it, with such passion and interest, in quite the same way? As Private Eye itself would say, shurely not. Experimenting with language; employing unusual vocabulary; working with extended metaphors; using academic terms to try to pin down concepts like 'queer space travel': these are good and necessary parts of a vital literary landscape. I mean, look, I think academics go too far sometimes – is space really queer and decolonial, as Nelly Ben Hayoun-Stépanian suggests in the same column? – but they are usually trying to articulate concepts that haven't been articulated before. Which is to be encouraged. Aside from that, all of this, like the royal family, adds hugely to the gaiety of the nation. We don't want a Gradgrindian landscape where prose merely does the job. Boring! I'm very glad that Pseuds Corner exists – like everything in Private Eye, it serves a function, which is to remind writers that words must be used correctly. But I also must say: now gods, stand up for pseuds! Because if writers cease to be ludic; if duchesses start to read actual books; then Pseuds Corner would be redundant. And that would be a sad day indeed. Or perhaps that should be: the willows would weep; the stars would flicker out; and the melancholy gods would groan, pale-faced, on their silken couches.
Sky News
30-03-2025
- Sky News
Alexander Sloley: Police offer £10k reward for information about teen who disappeared 17 years ago
Police have issued a £10,000 reward for information about a teenager who disappeared from his home nearly 17 years ago. Alexander Sloley, a 16-year-old accountancy student, had little money, no wallet and no passport when he went missing in Islington, north London, two days before his birthday in August, 2008. He had been visiting a friend's home in Edmonton, but had set off home at around midday. His family and friends have not heard from him since, and, despite repeated appeals and enquiries, police have never been able to find him. Mr Sloley had no belongings or spare clothes that would indicate he planned to run away, and his phone, bank account, and National Insurance number have not been used since he went missing. He has also never been spotted on CCTV. In 2009, his case was one of the first to be publicised on nearly 13.5 million milk cartons at supermarket chain Iceland. When he went missing, Mr Sloley was described as a light-skinned black male, 5ft 5ins tall and of medium build, with striking blue eyes. According to the Camden New Journal, in 2012 a police officer said about Mr Sloley's disappearance: "It's like he disappeared off the face of the planet." In 2017, Mick Neville, a retired head of the Metropolitan Police's Central Images Unit, said he believed there was a possible connection between Alex and missing 14-year-old Andrew Gosden. Mr Gosden was last seen in King's Cross Station in London after taking a train from Doncaster, where he lived with his parents and sister. There has been no trace of him since. However, in 2019, detectives said there was no proof that Mr Sloley had been harmed and there was no evidence that it was linked to any other cases. Speaking about the Metropolitan Police's £10,000 reward, detective chief inspector Sarb Kaur, who is leading the investigation into his disappearance, said: "Alex was reported missing to police on 8 August, 2008. "Since then, there have been extensive enquiries made by police, but sadly Alex has not yet been found. "We are now offering a reward of up to £10,000 for anyone who has information relating to Alex's whereabouts. "This remains an active missing person investigation, subject to regular review by senior officers, with the aim of locating Alex and bringing some comfort to his family. We have recently met with Alex's mother to outline how we intend to progress our investigation to find him.
The Independent
11-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
I wouldn't want my local park to be a dogging hotspot – it's time cruisy Hampstead Heath cleaned up its act
The militant dog walkers of Hampstead are in trouble. They have asked north London gays to stop having sex in public because its spoiling the woody glades of the West Heath for everyone else, and locals would like to enjoy them, too, as the bluebells start to bloom. This is a sickening and clearly pre-medicated attack on the LGBTQIA+ community. Or so some would have us believe. The suggestion that time be called on cruising on Hampstead Heath has been met with cries of 'homophobia'. One protester, 'sex-positive queer activist' Dan Glass, told the Camden New Journal: 'It's saying that queer people can't do what is legally and rightfully theirs – to have public displays of affection.' I'm all for public displays of affection, regardless of gender or sexuality. I'm old enough to remember the Before Times, when homosexuality was largely illegal, and you risked getting arrested or being bottled for kissing your boyfriend in public. Thankfully, those days are gone. But that doesn't mean I – or anyone else – wants to see a stranger mooning in the bushes, or cruisers making the beast with two backs among the bracken. Hampstead Heath has been a gay cruising ground since the 19th century, its popularity an unintended consequence of Victorian laws that criminalised consensual homosexual acts. These days, police largely turn a blind eye to the Heath being used for anonymous sex around the clock – George Michael was a regular – but locals have upped the ante with signs that include the message: 'Cruising for sex? Homosexuality is legal. Use a hook-up app like Grindr or Sniffies and get a room.' They have a point. A good one. Boys, we no longer live in the twilight world of the homosexual. For us gays, there are bars, clubs and saunas and even, thanks to apps, home deliveries. But in their showdown against Hampstead locals and their labradors, the queer campaigners insist that using the West Heath as an open-air sex club is their 'cultural right', and that they have history on their side. Wait, do I hear Peter Tatchell on line one? The great campaigner has talked about our right to cruise al fresco. I love Peter. But when I see him next, I'll probably say we should be fighting the battles of the real oppressed homosexuals in the Middle East, Russia and Africa (as Peter already does so admirably), rather than pandering to the gays who whine about not being able to do it when they like, where they like, with whomever they like. The Hampstead Heath crusaders have posted pictures on social media showing their "Sodomites' March', on their cruising territory, with several baring their bottoms next to what they call "the F*** Tree'. They sound like naughty children, not freedom fighters. The accusation of 'homophobia' – such a powerful word when we needed it in the recent past – rings hollow. I doubt that the spat over Hampstead Heath is even a question of sexuality. I wouldn't want my local park to be a dogging hotspot, and would be equally averse to seeing the uncovered rear-end of a straight, female thrill-seeker hanging out the window of a parked Ford Mondeo. The gay campaigners on the Heath no doubt think all the world should be interested in their sexual identity. It's not. Shrill identity politics is boring, and providing our enemies on the right with ammunition to twist malleable minds. A cruising-free Heath would mark neither the end of the world, nor the return of Section 28. The people of Hampstead and environs simply want to see daffodils and songbirds rather than quivering buttocks and related detritus. And I'm with them – even if I do object to the ugly gilets they wear. The bottom line, if you'll forgive the pun, is that in a free society we don't have the right not to be offended. We do have some responsibility, though, to make reasonable compromises to ensure that life is bearable for all of us. So, gays – get a room, or go somewhere where you're not going embarrass people on a day out with their children. And take your rubbish away with you. You can still have plenty of fun, even if it's not on the Heath.
