Fate, if it has any meaning, lies in the power of reversal. Eventually, the hunter will be felled by his own weapons and traps. For all its riches and might, Rome's destiny is to be consumed as Carthage was. Slaves will become their own masters, and the death march of civilisation will be forced into the triumph of life.

The thing about film adaptations of famous, and particularly pre-modern, literature is that they only really work when made with small budgets by insane directors. The Odyssey, for example, should ideally be filmed with painted sets, waves and boats made from papier-mâché, and starring a cast of ugly Levantine farmers who wear fantastical Greek theatre masks. This would not, alas, be a Vogue friendly product.

It's a shame that Gen Z are reviving 70s Brigate Rosse hairstyles and fits, only to waste them on vaping and doomscrolling in pubs.

Fash-adjacent bloviators in Glasgow are doing videos where they walk through parts of the city undisturbed, while talking about how dangerous and vile it all is. Their camera people make sure to focus on the non-white men minding their own business, so as to convey how savage the city has become since the Good Old Days. Meanwhile, most Glaswegians can tell you about the razor gangs, the anti-Catholic abuse and killings, the racial discrimination, the pollution and crumbling housing, and the relentless, soul-biting poverty that all formed an everyday blight for the people of that golden era. Naturally, these reactionary court jesters are keen to encourage such monetisable nostalgia; they dream of hurling us back to that world of plague and fear.

If you reckon correctly, all the world is a shipwreck.

Like Faustus, I would pledge myself to His Satanic Majesty if it meant destroying England's hopes and dreams.

It's coming home, lads (Spain taking back Jabal Ṭāriq after crushing England in the final).

'Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?' Me! She's annoying and won't stop trying to black-up in public.

Rubio's ensconcement as imperial viceroy of Venezuela is one of those turns of history perverse enough to make you want to cry tears of rage. But nothing in history is final. Paul Bremer likewise basked in America's triumph as he ruled over and pillaged Iraq, only for his victory to end with 4000 dead US soldiers and its power in the Middle East left in terminal decline. Old mole has his ways.