I spent part of the weekend reading online the 10,000th issue of The Spectator, the oldest magazine in the world. One of the columnists, Douglas Murray, could have been writing of the magazine’s enemies when he wrote of those of the journalists he admires: “Boredom. Predictability. Obviousness. Humourlessness. Dullness. Staleness.” A few issues ago the New Yorker asked a handful of writers for their thoughts on the pandemic. This issue of The Spectator contained the feature, “Spectator writers in lockdown – by the people stuck with them.”
