In Praise of Jacob Rees-Mogg

I am an unashamed and massive fan of Moggy. I watched the Andrew Neil interview when most articulately and calmly he dealt with the tricky and sometimes unreasonable questioning. Even when he had been quoted out of context Moggy stayed calm, acknowledged the underhand attack and quickly revealed it for what it was. A class act in discourse.

And it is this facet of the man that I love. He listens, he evaluates and he answers in a composed and honest way. He keeps his emotions out of it and tells the thing as it is.

What a refreshing human being and politician to have around in these turbulent times. Compare him to Donald Trump where it’s all hype and cover and lies and money and grossly insincere self-aggrandizement. Yuk.

But what a let-down for Moggy and the country that he’s been ostracized by a huge part of the electorate for his accent and unusual demeanor. This is the worst kind of inverted snobbery and I wonder if people acknowledge that? Because I bet it’s at the bottom of a lot of the antipathy towards him. A shame because we need a leader with this clarity of mind, goodness and intelligence.

Anyway enough of Moggy. My golf has been in a parlous state. However, things remarkably changed on Thursday after I ventured into the butcher’s shop in Bruntsfield and came out with a steak pie and a revelatory new swing thought. Good old Angus put me straight on something he’d observed in watching my Facebook video. My right leg was all over the place by all accounts. There was no pivot or anchor there. And he was right as I replayed the video when I got home and headed to the practice area.

So may I heartily recommend Angus and William of WM Christie the Family Butcher, Bruntsfield, for not only the best crack in town but  immense steak pies and at £1.80, possibly the best golf lesson I have ever had. That’s cheaper than going to a Dave Leadbetter clinic or being subjected to an Ali Ross ski week (which I once did and learned zero).

Most attempts at teaching bark up the wrong tree (ancient Japanese proverb).

But now over to football. Manchester United have won seven games on the trot and this Ole bloke is being seen as a revelation and heaven-sent saviour. But not really in my book. He just had to smile, not have Mourinho arrogance and then put Martial and Pogba on the actual pitch. By simply doing that you’ve got one of the best teams in the world and with guys who actually want to play and win for you. Sorry, but this is not rocket science. Take away the bad egg from the top. It’s the same in most places.

Now for the bistrot. We have almost got there with the name. It started off with ‘Wild’ which we quite liked the edginess of. It then morphed into Blacklisted and Blackballed and Barred. Of course the latter is a bit close to the bone, given my history of entering the nations’ public houses.

Anyway, I was joking with friends that at least I couldn’t be barred from Barred. But I then reflected that my brother had indeed achieved this feat 20 years ago at the time he was the third partner in the newly opened Montpeliers. He was ordered out of the establisment! And not through drink may I add.

So never say never guys.

However Alessandro and Michael are very decent human beings.  Which I’m afraid I can’t say for a couple of Craig’s ex bar-partners.

But I have been lucky.

So eventually, I hope to open a wee bistrot in St Andrews and yes, it will be called Blackballed.

And of course, all R&A members will be most welcome.




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