So What Is The Best Club?

 

Whoa, tricky question because they're all good in their different ways. For sheer apex predator awesome it has to be White's. If you're a Prime Minister or own half the planet you may be invited to join. I'm not a member, oddly, and that's curious, because I am the Commandant of an irregular troop of light horse, the DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry). Huh.

Boodles

White's being shut to us, we move down St. James by a few hundred yards and land at Boodles. What a beautiful and comfortable Club! Winston Churchill used to sit in its storied bay window and watch passers by. I love that place and used to sit in its famous window, imagining Churchill's shade, but haven't been there in many years; I always think of the smell of coal fires when I remember it. It has, by the way, an amazing 18thC dining room and outstanding wine, obvs.

Carlton

So, walk across the road and what d'ye see? Brooks. I know nothing of Brooks. Keep walking and lo and behold, the Carlton Club. I used to enjoy that place in the '90s, when you could smoke in its Smoking Room and everything was cool and cashless. Just sign a chit, sorta thing. Haven't been there in ages. Still, you know it's good, there was a weighing machine next to the member's dining room. Perhaps there still is.

EIC

Next up. Carlton Club reverie over, stride forth into St. James Square, and what do you find? A veritable cornucopia of Clubs. The East India ain't shabby and offers a great Sunday lunch; order salmon and roast beef from the trolley if you're smart, and you won't be disappointed. 

In & Out

Replete, walk across the way to the Naval & Military (In & Out) to enjoy well-priced cocktails before heading over to the Reform Club on Pall Mall (not open on weekends apart from accommodation and an excellent breakfast). Excelsior. Of course there's others on that strip, notably the Travelers (Trav) and the Athenaeum, which I strangely haven't been to, all in good time. 

Speaking of which, there used to be place called the United Services Club, opposite the Athenaeum, which apparently set the officers mess tenor of Clubland. It's now something awful, the Institute of Directors, where people have business lunches and learn how to do Powerpoint when not checking the market on their phones. It is not a club, sadly, so don't be fooled.

NLC Bar

Pall Mall and Waterloo Place aside, you might want to keep walking towards Trafalgar Square, only to end up at the jolly old NatLib. Yes, the National Liberal Club, founded by Gladstone and still very much alive today. I like it for its exceptionally high ceilings and spectacular terrace overlooking the Embankment and its gardens. Most congenial and hardly snobby at all.

I love the Reform Club

Now, dear readers, all five of you, there are many more clubs and they're all awesome, but this quick shoot-out's based on the ones I mostly visit, apart from White's, and these days Boodles and the Carlton. My favorite? 

Unfair question because they're all most excellent, but I love the East India for Sunday lunch, the Reform for all 'round greatness, not least garden and architecture, the In & Out for a great courtyard where and for being in "Nancy Astor's place," not shabby, and the NatLib because rough and ready Gladstonian greatness, and you can smoke, eat and drink on its enormous terrace. So, each one is best in its particular way and what you want it for. Overall? I vote the Reform as the best on this list, but that's just me, I like them all.

So there you have it.

Clubland Forever,

LSP

What Was It Like?

 

What was what like? London, of course. Much the same as it's ever been for the last few decades, with a few changes. Liverpool Street Station was greatly built up, I used to live there and it took a moment to recognize familiar landmarks. Downtown central's much the same as ever but with increasing hordes of tourists.

On the good side of the ledger, the Clubs are holding strong. Nice, bastions of civilization from a better age. Likewise, Green/Gay agitprop doesn't seem to be half of what it was a few years ago. Good, enough of the wretched rainbow flags already. 

Seriously, a couple of years ago you'd be assaulted by Green/Gay propaganda posters as you walked through the interminably awful corridors of Heathrow's Terminal Horrible Three. These have gone, thank God, maybe this useless, despicable, deceitful fad's nearing its well-deserved sell-by date, please.

Devil Witch

They/Them notwithstanding, there's a new fad in town, Re-Wilding. Yep, let your towns, cityscapes, roads, bridges, woods, fields, factories, houses and on revert back to nature. A bit like Detroit if you pause and think for a moment. Net result? Incredibly shabby verges and medians, and that unkept look which says virtue-signaling saves the local council money at the expense of your city looking like an abandoned slum.

No kidding, re-wilding, it's a thing; hey, gotta cut costs to afford all those immigrant votes. Whatever, here's two short anecdotes, both true.

The National Liberal Club: At the bar, reading the Spectator, and a crew swings in next to me. "Excuse me, sir." Quite all right, common ground. A little later it's revealed that my newfound neighbor's people built some great Sikh edifice in Birmingham. "Ah, Sikhs," I offered, "Sword arm of the Hindu faith." My new friend looked me in the eye and said, "If only," and we became friends. Not surprising, when you think on it, because we both went to the same school, all hail the Dragon, Oxford. At the end of old school conviv he asked me, "As a priest, what do you think of Islam?" I told him, in no uncertain terms, and he agreed. We'll meet again.

The Lamb & Flag: Covent Garden and here we are at this ancient pub, pints flowing freely, when lo and behold, a guy in red trousers, two breaster blazer, cigar in mouth and tinted glasses on eyes offers bystanders "delicious chocolates." Sure thing, thanks, fella. Next step? "Look here, guys, I know these people." Off you go then, and I did, "I like your crucifix," he had one around his neck, real gold thank you very much, "What's inscribed on the reverse?" He looked at me and I looked at him. "Deus Vult," he replied, the legend of the Crusade. Turns out my Turkish Mayfair pal, according to him, was one of the few families of his class to not  kow-tow to Islam. I told him to go to the Brompton Oratory, hope he does.

Point being, the Lawless London Caliphate isn't lost, at least not yet. There's plenty of diversity which opposes it, from Sikh to Turk, Hindu to Christian, so don't lose hope. That said, indigenous natives might want to start having babies again. Word to the wise.

Kizmet,

LSP

Clubland Shoot Out

 

So, you ask yourself with bated breath, what's the best London club, excluding Brooks, Whites and Boodles?* Good question, best for what? General ambiance, food, architecture, location, sheer clubishness? All of those things and more, surely, come together into one harmonious whole. So what's the best? In this short post we offer up a few old favourites to compare and contrast.

The NatLib (National Liberal Club). Faded glory meets absurdly high ceilings in what some describe as the "best preserved Victorian interior in London." Perhaps it is, and it does have an outstanding terrace overlooking the Embankment Gardens where you can smoke and drink. Food? Most reasonable if fixey.

The East India Club. On St. James Square and more formal than the shockingly slack NatLib. Enjoy the American Bar, which has faux American timbers, wonder at the history of the storied Waterloo Room and enjoy an excellent Sunday lunch. No kidding, it's good.

In & Out. Once housed in grander surroundings, the fabled In & Out still ain't shabby, being housed in Nancy Astor's place on St. James Square. Congenial and well-priced bar food at the Goat Brasserie, an awesome courtyard, where you can smoke, and the place is beautiful. Very much open on the weekend.

Farmers. I love the Farmers Club. It's just a couple of addresses down from the NatLib on Whitehall Place and isn't grand architecturally. But it is well put together in a country house kind of way, has rooms, delicious food and a great if small terrace where you can watch the NatLib yahoos whoop it up 500 yards away. Book a room while you can, they're in demand.

Reform. Fabled site of around the world in so many days, Reform's a cut above, with beautiful architecture, delicious food and a perfect garden which it shares with the Trav and Athenaeum. It also has rooms, which is great but... Madonna filmed there. I asked a member, "Didn't Madonna film here?" And she looked at me, "Hardly our finest moment."

So what's the best Club, who wins the shootout? It all depends, because they're all good in their various ways. But let's hold fire, Team LSP is visiting the UK in September where we'll put these establishments, and several more, to the acid test.

Rus in Urbe,

LSP

*I used to love Boodles but that's another episode.

Marking Time

 

See you at the dam Club,

LSP

Haiku Time

 

It's that contemplative time of the week when we sit back, gaze on the Feng Shui of our respective compounds and compose haikus. Remember them? They're short, beautiful, terse, evocative poems comprised of 5 syllables in the first line, 7 in the next and 5 in conclusion. Let's get going. Inspired by Mike-C, I'll kick off:

England won the cup

It wasn't even Moslem

In the mists of time

"In" is perhaps weak, if center mass. Do feel free to suggest better verse and, of course, send in your own haikus. The challenge, dear friends, is on.

Athenaeum,

LSP

Slaughterhouse

 

Wow, I thought our Old Enemy had withdrawn, retreated from the fray like the Corsican Upstart at Waterloo. That was an error, never underestimate your adversary; yes, the Weather struck back with full fury today. Like no kidding, thunder, lightning, torrential rain and hail. Would the windows of this old house break?

They didn't, Laus Deo, and the motor pool remained oddly intact, not a dent. Tomato vines? Different story. Those young plants, put in the earth from seed a couple of weeks ago were shredded by the hail. I went outside to inspect the damage after the storm had passed. What a slaughterhouse, let's see if those vines recover and bear fruit.

In related news, the UK's Uniparty, Labour and Conservative, was given a right shredding at the ballot box today with 677 seats out of about of 1,600 going to Reform in local elections. No wonder, the punters are upset, the peasants are revolting, they don't want to be run by a gang of managerial class, open borders, rainbow corporate traitors who hate the people they govern. 

You don't vote for us, so we'll just replace you, serfs, with people who will. And if labor costs sink and rents rise, so much the better for us. What banditry and what an unholy alliance of so-called Left and Right. Regardless, you can read all about it here, on UnHerd. Thanks for the link, UK pal.

So let's see where this goes. Will the tomato vines come back, will Great Britain regain her sovereignty and glory from the hands of its lying, pugnacious, hypocritical, not-fit-for-purpose, self-aggrandizing, smug, mendacious, condescending gaily hued ruling traitors?

Time, dear friends, will tell. Of course we're no stranger to this phenom in the US.

Best,

LSP

Another Day

 

Just coz.

Bless you all,

LSP

Blind Faith

 

I've always loved this, perhaps you have too. Be careful out there, kids, like no fooling. Speaking of which, please do avoid the appalling STAFFORD hotel off St. James. It was awesome and we loved it, now we don't, it's utterly rubbish.

Reform Forever,

LSP

THUNDER RAIN

 

Is That Turnbull & Asser?

Thunder crashes, booming like guns on Ostfront Donetsk as rain splatters the back deck, blessed relief after the shock triple digit temps of the last couple of weeks. Relief, like no kidding. On theme, what's worse, heat or cold? I won't bet the monkey, that vicious beast, but I'll hazard cold. You can mostly survive in Texan heat, but Albertan -40? Not so much. Just a hazard.

Speaking of survival, the UK's just had elections and Labour, the Sceptered Isle's, cough, socialists, were swept into power by a low turn-out electorate. Something like 59% bothered to vote and they voted Red because they hated, loathed and despised the conservative-in-name-only party. 

Who can blame them. Yes, but look what you've got now, not so united kingdom, Net Zero, Moar Tax, War, even though you don't have an army... conundrum, and all your kids will be turned into trannies who are so useful in war, another conundrum. Well, maybe not all, maybe just enough to make Pharma even richer than it already is.

All this against the backdrop of an industrial and increasingly peer-to-peer war in which the UK's off-shored its manufacturing base. Not unlike the US, when you think on it. Anyone for a cold cup of hegemonic synergy? That aside, the US is run by a Corrupt Old Crook with dementia and we can only guess at the literal, brazen, evil of its handlers. See Podesta/Marinovic/Pizza etc.

So, good luck UK, with your Uniparty vote, hope you won't be disappointed. Just imagine how Labour will bring back all those manufacturing jobs to Britain! And think how your wages will soar under never ending mass migration. Diversity, UK, will be your strength.

In the meanwhile, our Texan storm rolls apace, though somewhat abated, annoyingly.

Cheers,

LSP

Throwing the Cat

In the tumultuous days of the early nineteenth century, when Reform and Riot were in the air of England and the French Revolution loomed large across the Channel, Archbishop Howley sat on the throne of Augustine in Canterbury.

Howley was an old-fashioned High-Churchman and an opponent of Reform, which prompted an angry mob to attack his carriage on the rough streets of Canterbury. Howley's Chaplain exclaimed:

"Your Grace, they have thrown a dead cat at me!" To which the prelate replied, "You may thank God, sir, it was not a live one."

There's a moral in that, if you care to draw it, for today's Church.

LSP