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Toby Young
Friday 3rd July 2009

I've become a Helicopter Parent


A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a Father’s Day piece that described a typical Sunday in my life. Essentially, it involved being an indentured slave to my four young children. Several people pointed out that I was guilty of “Helicopter Parenting” -- an American term for supervising your children’s lives too closely -- and recommended a book on the subject by Carl Honoré, a Canadian intellectual.

I was initially a bit suspicious because Honoré is one of the leading advocates of the Slow Movement, but ‘Under Pressure: Rescuing Our Children from the Culture of Hyper-Parenting’ is quite convincing. According to Honoré, we have entered the age of the “Managed Child” in which middle class parents spend too much time meddling in their children’s lives. “The average distance from home British kids are permitted to wander by themselves has fallen nearly 90 per cent since the 1970s,” he points out. He believes children would be much better off if left to their own devices. (To read more, click here.)

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Tuesday 30th June 2009

The Seven Ages of Sporting Disillusionment


One of the few compensations of growing old is that you are less likely to be disappointed by Britain’s sporting defeats. Indeed, it is possible to come up with a version of Shakespeare’s seven ages of man according to how disillusioned you are by our national sporting heroes.

At first the infant, cheering along without a clue; then the school-boy, experiencing the first stirrings of nationalist fervour when the England football squad qualifies for an international tournament; then the lover, completely besotted with the latest British hopeful at Wimbledon; then the soldier, doggedly standing by the England rugby players even though their chances of winning anything are slim; then the sceptic, telling yourself not to get too excited when the England cricket team comes close to reclaiming the Ashes; then the cynic, betting against the British contender in the Welterweight Championship; and, eventually, the soothsayer, predicting an endless series of defeats long into the future.

I am currently at the stage where scepticism is hardening into cynicism. When I tuned in to watch England in the European Under 21 Championship final on Monday I wasn’t exactly hopeful -- we were playing Germany, after all -- but it was still a bit of a shock when we lost 4 - 0. As for Andy Murray, at the time of writing he has yet to be knocked out of Wimbledon but his five-set thriller against Stanislas Wawrinka looked suspiciously like one of Henman’s battles to make it into the last eight. It is almost as if he has been sent by the Gods of false hope to torture us. When apologists claim he is “improving” I can’t help reminding them that Boris Becker won Wimbledon at the age of 17.

Sometimes, I feel obliged to mount a defence of British sport, claiming that our chronic inability to win anything is due to our natural sympathy for the underdog. At the crucial moment, when we have our opponents in our sites, we lack the killer instinct. Better they should win than us -- it will mean so much more to them.

But in truth it is a cause of unremitting shame and embarrassment. Will the summer kindly come to an end? I don’t think I can take any more.

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Friday 26th June 2009

RIP Michael Jackson, 1958 - 2009


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Thursday 25th June 2009

Stop the Presses: I Make Inoffensive Wedding Speech!


It never ceases to amaze me that I am still asked to speak in public. If I am not the worst orator of my generation, I must be a close second. The last time I performed an after-dinner speaking gig was in Bath and the organisation concerned was so appalled it asked for its money back. “My delegates are not prudes,” wrote the booker to my agent, “but the use of the ‘C’ word in polite company is to me unacceptable and to use it twice was just insult to injury.” (To read more, click here.)

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Tuesday 23rd June 2009

Bruno: A Machine-Tooled Vehicle for Promoting Sacha Baron Cohen


Is there anyone better at creating buzz around his own movies than Sacha Baron Cohen? He did a good job of publicising Borat three years ago, but it was nothing compared to his efforts to promote Bruno. His surprise appearance at the MTV Awards earlier this month was watched by 100 million people -- and countless more on YouTube.

In addition to publicity stunts, Baron Cohen is a master at creating controversy, another great way to promote a film. In fact, that statement is slightly misleading in that he doesn’t try and whip up controversy around his films for publicity purposes. Rather, his films consist of a number of controversial set pieces loosely strung together with some feeble storyline.

Bruno is purportedly about the central character’s efforts to conquer America -- to become “the most famous Austrian since Hitler” -- but it is hard to imagine anyone being gripped by this narrative. The entertainment value resides in the set pieces, such as Bruno’s appearance as a guest on the Richard Bey Show. In front of a largely African-American audience, he appeals for a black, homosexual partner to help him raise his newly-adopted African baby. The baby is then brought out wearing a T-shirt with the word “Gayby” on it and the audience is treated to photographs of the child being crucified like Christ and sitting in a hot tub with four naked men. Needless to say, it isn’t long before Bruno is confronted with a baying mob.

Beneath this melee, Baron Cohen might claim to be “exposing” the homophobia of ordinary Americans, but that is largely beside the point. Will audiences watching the film engage in some self-examination afterwards and be less likely to give in to such knee-jerk reactions? I doubt it. The purpose of these set pieces is to be funny, of course, but it's the type of humour that's machine-tooled to generate buzz. In a sense, Baron Cohen’s films exist solely in order to promote themselves. They are politically incorrect, not because he has any objection to political correctness, but because that’s a sure-fire way to stimulate controversy and sell tickets. Baron Cohen is not the most gifted satarist of our age, but the most gifted self-promoter. He is Colonel Tom Parker and Elvis Presley rolled into one.

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Sunday 21st June 2009

Father's Day: Part 3


This is a short story I wrote for the Father's Day edition of the Sunday Express magazine.

Billy Ray had met Kelly on the casino floor of Caesar’s Palace eight years ago. It was the old story: he was working as a Blackjack dealer, she was a cocktail waitress. She was 19 at the time and as cute as a bug’s ear. Fresh out of Kentucky, straight to Vegas, do not pass Go. Every dealer in there was interested, but he had a secret weapon: tequila. He had her doing slammers with him on their first date. She’d moved into his trailer the following day. (To read more, click here.)

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Thursday 18th June 2009

Father's Day: Part 2


Here's the second piece about Father's Day, from today's Spectator.

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Wednesday 17th June 2009

Father's Day


The first of three Father's Day pieces I've written is published today. This one, in today's Evening Standard, is about the effects of becoming a dad on men's health.

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Wednesday 17th June 2009

The Late Show, 1991


Check out my appearance on the Late Show in 1991, having a ding-dong with Jon Savage. We were discussing the launch issue of The Modern Review, which contained a bad review of England's Dreaming, his book about punk rock. I only appear for a few seconds -- and may not be recognisable on account of the fact that I have hair. The rest of the clips are pretty funny, too.

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Wednesday 17th June 2009

No Such Thing as the Net


The news that Harrison Ford is Hollywood’s highest earning actor may come as a surprise to some. After all, isn’t he a bit of a has-been? His last film, Crossing Over, grossed less than $500,000 at the American box office. Yet according to Forbes, the 66-year-old action star earned $64.95 million in the 12 months between June 2008 and 2009. How did he manage it?

The answer is that he was a profit participant in Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, one of the most successful films of 2008. Not only that, but he was entitled to a share of the “gross” profits, rather than the “net” -- by common consent, the most important distinction in the movie business. “I’ve been in this business for 20 years and there are two things I’ve learnt,” says the independent producer to the studio executive in Speed The Plow, David Mamet’s satire about Hollywood. “The first is there’s no such thing as the net. I forget the second.”

The principle that “there’s no such thing as the net” was definitively established in a court case known as Buchwald v Paramount. In that lawsuit, Buchwald sued Paramount Pictures, arguing that Coming To America, a 1988 film starring Eddie Murphy, was based on an original idea he’d submitted to the studio several years earlier. According to his contract with Paramount, Buchwald was entitled to a percentage of the “net” profits. As part of its defence, Paramount argued that that figure was zero, in spite of the fact that Coming To America grossed $350 million.

The judge ruled in favour of Buchwald, but even though he allowed for the fact that Paramount’s definition of the “net” was “unconscionable”, he only awarded the plaintiff $150,000 in damages. Since the lawsuit, which lasted seven years, cost over $3 million, Buchwald was seriously out of pocket, but he claimed a “moral victory” nonetheless -- and he was right. Thanks to the publicity the case attracted, no one entering into a contract with a Hollywood studio who possesses any negotiating power will ever again allow themselves to be fobbed off with a percentage of the “net”. When Harrison Ford cashes that cheque for $64.95 million, he should say a silent prayer for Art Buchwald.

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