That’ll do, pig.

“Do you want to hear something truly perverse?” asked the chef. I did. Jonny is a mercurial gastronome who delights in language almost as much as he relishes food, and I knew that when he said “perverse” he really meant it. In France, he said, there is a certain songbird: the ortolan. It is aboutContinue reading “That’ll do, pig.”

It all comes out in the wash

We gather like penitents. All of us have been brought here by the dirty secrets we hide, and we avoid each other’s gaze. But simply by coming here we have to acknowledge our sordid nature, and, despite the awkwardness, there is an unspoken solidarity among us. Here, we reveal all. Because this warm nook, filledContinue reading “It all comes out in the wash”

The fault is in our stars

A misunderstanding was inevitable. The French delegation spoke very little English. The South African politicians who sat across the table spoke a little French but were just at that moment pressing lobster thermidor into their mouths and so their words were muffled. What they did manage to say, however, was that the were offering theContinue reading “The fault is in our stars”

Why we aren’t really Charlie

I am not Charlie. For more than a decade I have written satire for a living and for pleasure, but in those few instances where I was presented with a genuinely dangerous target, I backed down. I am not willing to die for an idea. I’m not even sure that I admire those who are.Continue reading “Why we aren’t really Charlie”