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Telegraph
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Horrible Histories creator Terry Deary: ‘What's the use of universities?'
One day, it dawned on Terry Deary that his favourite crime novels are overrun with characters who have heaps of money, or a degree, or both. ' Agatha Christie, Lord Peter Wimsey, the golden age of crime writing – it's pure Establishment,' he says. The same holds true for his contemporary standbys, Anthony Horowitz ('That man is a genius') and Simon Brett. By contrast, says Deary – who is better known as the brains behind the Horrible Histories series for children – in Actually, I'm a Murderer, his first adult crime novel, 'only about two out of 20 characters went to university'. This will come as no surprise to anyone familiar with Horrible Histories. Those books, 70-odd titles that have together sold some 30 million copies, have enlivened great tracts of the past for generations of children by relaying with irresistible delight the viscera of history and the experience of the common man. In them, monarchs and world leaders are usually depicted as monsters or figures of fun: the Romans are 'evil'; the Tudors, tyrants. Deary reserves a particular loathing for Elizabeth I, and he is not at all a fan of the British Empire. 'I get a lot of abuse for it,' he tells me; he's even been accused of 'poisoning the minds of children. But I can't believe anyone would possibly justify the British Empire.' Thirty-two years after the publication of the first Horrible Histories book, Deary says he's done with writing children's books. 'I've written hundreds of them. There's another mountain to climb now.' Actually, I'm a Murderer is the first instalment in what he hopes will develop into a long-running series (he's already written book two) featuring John Brown, an assassin-for-hire in 1970s Sunderland, where Deary grew up. The premise inverts the classic crime thriller setup: we know whodunnit from the beginning; the fun lies in the protracted game of cat and mouse between Brown and the police who, in the first book at least, Deary paints as incompetent, sexist and bigoted. 'Only the men,' he corrects me – the hero of the novel, Aline, is a policewoman fighting her repulsive, handsy colleague for promotion. 'Female police are underrated. When I published a murder mystery for young adults 20 years ago, the editor made me tone down the incompetence of the book's bent policeman,' he adds. 'I had to make the police look better and focus on solving the mystery. I don't think you would get that today.' In fact, Deary is quite a fan of the police, despite having been 'beaten blue' by them when he was a 'naughty nipper'; his dad ran a butcher's shop and Deary says his impoverished childhood 'in a postwar slum' taught him 'how real people lived'. I ask him what he thinks of the Metropolitan Police today, hit by a string of appalling scandals. 'Police are human beings. No one can live up to the expectations that are placed on the police.' Deary, who lives in County Durham with his wife, Jenny, with whom he has one grown-up daughter, was already a successful children's author when he was commissioned to do a history joke book in the early 1990s. He had begun writing in 1976 while working as a drama teacher in Suffolk. He maintains he didn't know much history at the time, although he studied it at A-Level. But then, his intention was never to educate. 'I didn't set out to enlighten their little minds or even get them to read,' he says. 'That just happened.' His main influence was his previous career as an actor: he had spent a few years in the early 1970s with Theatr Powys, in Wales. 'The aim of drama is to answer one question only – why do people behave the way they do? I applied that to my books. Look how they behaved in the past and learn from that.' Today, Horrible Histories is part of the cultural landscape – widely read in schools and embraced by the middle classes. 'Isn't that sickening?' says Deary. 'It's like Mick Jagger. He presents himself as anti-Establishment and then he accepts a knighthood. I hope I never sell out like that.' Fair enough, but the brand is already enormously lucrative – there are theatre, film and television adaptations, and even a Horrible Histories interactive cruise along the Thames, for which Deary writes the voiceover. Is he worried that the brand's original rebel spirit is becoming diluted? 'Horrible Histories is not my brand. I just write the books,' he says. 'And I take no credit for the spin-offs.' He rejects, too, the suggestion that Horrible Histories inculcate an inherently flippant attitude towards the past. 'You forget how boring history books for children were before I came along. Endless parents tell me their child never read a book until they picked up Horrible Histories. Although when people tell me that thanks to my books they studied history at university, I say 'Don't blame me, mate', because what use are universities?' Deary can come across as a bit of a throwback 1980s anarchist. He's famously against the education system, partly because he was caned repeatedly at his primary school. 'I'm against schooling. Not against education,' he clarifies. 'But you need to get rid of the muppets in Whitehall who write the curriculum which applies to every child in this country, when they wouldn't know a child from Newcastle or Sunderland if it thumped them on the kneecap.' He spits at whatever Labour might be planning to address this: it launched a review of the school curriculum at the end of last year. 'It's just tokenism, sorry. You need to get rid of it.' I assume, then, that he is not too concerned by the drop in students reading history at university? He himself never got the chance to go: his teachers suggested when he was 18 that he 'get a job down the pits'; instead, he worked at the electricity board. 'People don't have to waste taxpayers' money spending four years going to this place called university and not working when they can read my books [instead],' he says. I think he means it. 'But it's not my problem. I'm a book writer.' But surely, I suggest, the facts and intellectual rigour taught at university are important tools both for understanding the counter-imperialist view of history he favours and also for combating the growing threat of AI-generated misinformation? In lieu of an answer, Deary tells me how when people hear about a mother who lost her children in a bombing raid during the Second World War, they assume it took place in London or Coventry. 'But it took place in Dresden, too. Everyone comes up with a British-educated answer. But it happened to them as well as us.' I try again. What does Deary think about the ways in which we are rethinking our imperial past – the growing acknowledgment of the extent to which modern Britain was built on profits from the slave trade; the Rhodes Must Fall movement, which argues for the removal of the statue of Cecil Rhodes at Oriel College, Oxford? That, he says, is 'actually quite a good idea. Although they should be arguing to take all the statues down, including Lord bloody Nelson in Trafalgar Square. But it's a minority view. Imperialists are taking over the country.' Including, perhaps, in Sunderland – Deary left the city in the early 1970s, but maintains close links – where Reform won 27 per cent of the vote in the last election. Why does he think that happened? 'Because Farage is a big personality,' he says. 'People aren't voting for his policies, but for the man. So don't ask me to condemn my Sunderland friends.' Quite the opposite, I say. Isn't it only because such voters feel let down by the Establishment that they find themselves drawn to Reform in the first place? 'That, I admit, does sway people,' Deary says. 'They think the Conservatives have had their chance but they mucked it up, so we'll try Labour. Oh, they aren't doing so well, so we'll try a third option.' Deary is a tremendous force in publishing – and proud of it: he points out that the paperback edition of his recent nonfiction book A History of Britain in Ten Enemies topped the bestseller charts. 'Not bad for a lad from Sunderland, eh?' He has no plans to stop, nor any intention of toning things down. 'I'm an entertainer, not an academic. And if I don't entertain people, they won't engage.' Actually, I'm a Murderer by Terry Deary (Constable, £18.99) is out on June 12
Daily Mirror
28-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mirror
Jeff Stelling admitted 'low point of my career' involved Chris Kamara correction
Jeff Stelling once had the tables turned on him by Chris Kamara (Image: Getty Images) It's been two years to the day since football fans bid farewell to Sky Sports legend Jeff Stelling. The broadcasting giant, 70, hosted a special edition of Soccer Saturday on the final day of the 2022/23 season before calling it quits after 25 memorable years. The Hartlepool United fanatic first took on the role in 1998. What followed was over two decades of laughs, drama and expert insight, all marshalled in style thanks to Stelling's first-class skills as a presenter. While the peerless Stelling was often the man making the jokes at the expense of his studio pundits, he once confessed that a swift role-reversal was one of the 'lowest points' of his Soccer Saturday tenure. While many of Soccer Saturday's pundits became household names, it's safe to say none drew the limelight, and love from viewers, as much as Chris Kamara did. Often hailed as Stelling's partner in crime, the duo whipped up many iconic moments together over the years. While Kamara had a reputation for making the odd gaffe, he took great pride in getting one over on Stelling back in October 2016, to the presenter's dismay. The now 67-year-old was covering West Ham's home tie with Sunderland when he noticed that his esteemed host had strayed into a rare blunder. "Let's go and find out what's happening at Upton Park. West Ham nil Sunderland nil, does this look like it's going to end in deadlock to you Chris Kamara?," Stelling probed. Chris Kamara and Jeff Stelling worked together for over two decades (Image: DAILY MIRROR) Chris Kamara and Jeff Stelling are known to be good friends on and off the TV (Image: X/@chris_kammy) Kamara quickly replied: "The London Stadium you mean Jeff? Get it right... come on." Stelling, reeling from the realisation that he'd forgotten that the Hammers had actually left Upton Park a few months prior, didn't take the correction particularly well. "That's the low point in my career," he quipped. "Chris Kamara telling me to get it right. Unbelievable Kammy." The pair's on-screen chemistry also helped gift supporters one of UK sports' most comical moments. Football fans will no doubt recall Stelling yelling in typical animated fashion: "There's been a red card at Fratton Park, but for who Chris Kamara?," Famously, this was then met by Kamara, with an oblivious, yet hilarious response of: "I don't know Jeff, has there? I must have missed that." Stelling initially announced he was stepping down at the end of the 2021/22 season, but went back on his decision and opted to stay for one more year. He has since been heard on radio, and was appointed Member of the Order of the British Empire in the 2024 New Year Honours for services to sport, broadcasting and charity. Kamara meanwhile stepped down from his role on Soccer Saturday at the end of 2021/22 football season after working on Soccer Saturday for 24 years. Months prior to his exit, he revealed that "live TV might have to take a back seat" as he opened up on his diagnosis with apraxia of speech. At the time, Stelling showed his class by sending a touching tribute to Kamara, saying: 'Kammy you still bring life, energy, fun and understanding to all of your reports on Soccer Saturday. We all love you pal, keep going!" Join our new WhatsApp community and receive your daily dose of Mirror Football content. We also treat our community members to special offers, promotions, and adverts from us and our partners. If you don't like our community, you can check out any time you like. If you're curious, you can read our Privacy Notice.
The Australian
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Australian
The Empress Murders is a new novel by a talented young actor and writer, Toby Schmitz
More than a decade ago, actor and playwright Toby Schmitz wrote a play called Empire: Terror on the High Seas about a murder spree on board an ocean liner crossing the Atlantic. It was set in 1924, the year of the British Empire Exhibition in London, where one of the most popular features was an exhibit called Races in Residence designed to show off the conquered peoples of the empire. One theatre reviewer noted that the 'fall of the victims mirrors the tumbling of the British Empire in the mid 20th century' while speculating that the dense and incident-packed play might work better as a novel. Schmitz appears to have taken the suggestion on board, turning his play into a novel and renaming it The Empress Murders (after the ocean liner, Empress of Australia). The new title is a nod in the direction of Agatha Christie but readers expecting to snuggle up with a bit of Miss Marple-style cosy crime will be in for a shock. The Empress Murders is a violent book: nobody here is dispatched with a nip of arsenic in their camomile tea. Victims are flayed, mutilated, eviscerated and impaled. The bumbling ship's detective, Inspector Archie Daniels, is up to his copper's ears in gore. Daniels suspects the killer might be the so-called London Bleeder, who has been committing gruesome murders all over Greater London, 26 bodies at last count. 'Sometimes a clean kill, strangled, slit, poisoned, sometimes an abhorrent mutilation or perversion. Sometimes a mocking message left, sometimes nothing but maggots already at play'. Coded telegrams from his boss at Scotland Yard advise 'no Bleeder activity in London since embarkation', confirming the inspector's hypothesis that the Bleeder is on board the Empress. But is he a passenger or a member of the crew? Most of the action takes place in first class, and the author holds little back in depicting the malignant racism, boorish manners and entitled indolence of the toffs as they drink and screw their way across the Atlantic. Schmitz has certainly done his homework in the fashion mags of the day: 'Nicole Hertz-Hollingsworth … skips over in patent Mary Janes, periwinkle argyle socks, purple heritage tartan knickerbockers, a champagne silk blouse with black satin bow (top button popped).' Tony, her repellent – and cuckolded - husband of three weeks, is in 'sapphire velvet sports coat with plum silk pocket square and matching tie (top button popped), white trousers knife-pleated, two-tone wing-tips'. Does the story need this intricate sartorial detail? Probably not, but Schmitz's careful cataloguing of upper-class white privilege steers us towards the novel's central themes of racism and class warfare. His inventories of wardrobes and jewellery boxes mimic the mental inventories drawn up by members of the ship's crew as they plot to separate the toffs from their valuables. As an actor, Schmitz has appeared in Tom Stoppard's ultra-clever play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, and there is more than a whiff of Stoppard's ingenious word-games in The Empress Murders, and of his verbosity: Some readers might find themselves skipping over such passages, overstuffed as they are with background detail, and by the author's own admission they won't miss much by doing so. The novel itself sometimes feels overstuffed, with superfluous characters as well as words, but once the murders start happening it doesn't take Schmitz long to whittle down his cast to a more manageable size. If the lurid violence of the murders functions, at one level, as an analogy of the violence of empire, it also mirrors the violence of the First World War, from which nearly all the book's characters emerge damaged, either by having taken part in it or, in some cases, by having missed it. The war scenes contain some of the novel's most graphic and visceral prose, the overwriting validated by the atrocity of the subject: Somehow Schmitz manages to hold the novel's disparate elements together, skewering a world debauched by wealth and war and empire while keeping the reader guessing about the outcome of his nautical murder mystery. Even a few short chapters narrated in the voice of the ocean liner make a crazy kind of sense as the first-class passengers guzzle gin and squabble about Dada in the ship's cocktail lounge. (Tom Stoppard's parody of Dadaism, Travesties, is another of Schmitz's acting credits.) The penultimate chapters are suitably cataclysmic, like a Jacobean tragedy in which the stage ends up covered with corpses. By the end the novel had won me over, Schmitz's clever but sometimes show-offy prose giving way to something quieter as two Irish lighthousekeepers ponder the final telegram messages sent by the Empress of Australia. It's a book that will leave you thinking. Tom Gilling is an author and critic. ABOUT THE AUTHOR Toby Schmitz is a writer, director and actor. He was most recently seen on television in Boy Swallows Universe and on stage in Gaslight. He has received nominations for his performances in The Seagull, Much Ado About Nothing and Measure for Measure. His television credits include The Twelve and Black Sails. He is also a celebrated playwright. His plays include Degenerate Art, I Want to Sleep With Tom Stoppard and Capture the Flag. He was awarded the Patrick White Award for his play Lucky. Arts News from the book world from literary editor Caroline Overington. Review Famed pieces from Monet, Renoir and Degas are going to become frequent fliers by making their second global crossing from Boston to Melbourne for this NGV exhibition.
Daily Mail
20-05-2025
- Politics
- Daily Mail
What British children are REALLY being taught in school: Transatlantic slavery becomes most studied topic in UK history lessons - with only one in 10 students learning about Trafalgar and Waterloo
Fewer than one in five schools are teaching students about inspirational British victories such as Agincourt, Waterloo and Trafalgar, a study has found. The report discovered that while almost all pupils are being informed about the Transatlantic Slave Trade and the First World War, children are by and large being left in the dark about other history-changing moments. Chief among these are the battles of Waterloo and Trafalgar, with only 11 per cent of UK secondary schools teaching the details to their students, despite their vital roles in the history of the British Empire. The Battle of Trafalgar saw the Royal Navy defeat the French and Spanish fleets in 1805, confirming British supremacy of the seas, while the Battle of Waterloo in 1815 marked the end of the Napoleonic Wars and the rise of British Empire. Meanwhile only 18 per cent of students are being taught about the Battle of Agincourt in the Hundreds Years' War, which confirmed Henry V as one of England's greatest kings. The report, by Policy Exchange, found that by comparison nearly all schools are teaching children about the Transatlantic Slave Trade, the Abolition of Slavery and the Norman Conquest of England. The data, which focuses on curriculums taught to Key Stage Three students - those aged between 11 and 14 - shows that schools have 'diversified' their syllabus after the Conservative government announced plans to focus on topics of 'cultural change' in 2022. The overhaul was introduced to allow children aged five to 14 to focus on the rich breadth of history, rather than being taught a narrow range of British-centric topics solely in preparation for GCSEs. However, many have said it's gone too far, former history teacher and chairman of Campaign for Real Education Chris McGovern said it was 'clear that the subject has been captured by the Left'. He warned that history is 'seen as a vehicle for undermining and destroying British national identity'. The top five most studied topics are now the Transatlantic Slave Trade (99 per cent), Britain in WW1 (99 per cent), the Norman Conquest (98 per cent), the Abolition of Slavery (96 per cent) and Reformation (95 per cent). Sitting right at the bottom of the list was the Battles of Trafalgar and Waterloo with only 11 per cent of students studying the topic. They were closely followed by the Battle of Agincourt (18 per cent), the Boer War (25 per cent) and the Irish potato famine (26 per cent). The former Secretary of State for Education, Nadhim Zahawi praised the report. He said: 'This thorough report from Policy Exchange demonstrates how much progress has been made over the last fifteen years, with increasing numbers of students receiving a knowledge-rich, chronological history education during Key Stage Three. 'It was heartening to see that core topics such as Magna Carta, the Reformation, the Industrial Revolution, the Slave Trade and its abolition, and Britain's roles in the World Wars are each taught in over 85% of schools. 'Though disappointing that inspiring events in English history such as the Battles of Agincourt, Trafalgar and Waterloo appear to have dropped off the curriculum.' While the report did warn that 'in too many cases this process has gone too far, leading to the teaching of radical and contested interpretations of the past as fact.' It also highlighted positive aspects of exposing students to varied studies, including key areas of British history such as the women's suffrage movement. The report also found that the topics studied at GCSE and A-Level are too narrow and competitive. Policy Exchange recommended a new British history survey paper from 1066 to 1989 to replace the current exams sat at GCSE. In another shocking revelation, it revealed that 53 per cent of people would say their knowledge on British history has been informed by film and television. And a whopping 15 per cent said they learn about history through social media. While as little as 12 per cent say their knowledge comes from newspaper and news media outlets. A spokesperson for the Department of Education said: 'High and rising standards are at the heart of the government's mission to break down the barriers to opportunity and give every child the best start. 'The independent, expert-led Curriculum and Assessment review is considering how to ensure young people have access to a broad and balanced curriculum that ensures young people leave school ready for work and ready for life.'
The National
13-05-2025
- Politics
- The National
Good fences don't make good neighbours – British colonial legacy is proof enough
There's an ancient piece of wisdom in the English phrase 'good fences make good neighbours'. I've never been convinced by this supposed insight. I'm of a generation that visited Berlin before the fall of communism and recall the fortified fences of the Inner German Border that divided East from West. British soldiers were stationed in West Berlin, and I watched with them the East German Grenztruppen – border guards nicknamed 'Grepo'. The Grepo had vicious German shepherd dogs on long wires in the land between East and West Berlin to prevent East Germans escaping the Soviet-imposed communist system to a better life in the West. It was, I suppose, a 'good fence'. But it was a horrible border. Thankfully that wall and the Inner German Border remain only as memorials to the divisions of east and west. But the reason this comes to mind is relief – perhaps temporary – that the US and others have tried to calm the military escalation between Pakistan and India. As the world knows, these are two nuclear-armed powers. And as the world also knows, there have been four full-scale wars between these neighbours since the British Empire ended. In great haste and at great human cost, the British pulled out of 'British India' provoking what is still considered the greatest mass movement of populations in history. Partition meant that millions of Hindus and Muslims from what is now Pakistan and India moved to a country where they felt safe. Up to 20 million people are supposed to have moved. They, their children and children's children have formed part of a great diaspora. Some of these displaced families are resident in the UK today. But while diplomats try to calm fears of further escalation in South Asia, what is striking is that the historical legacy of the British drawing lines on the map in the 19th and 20th centuries remains in many places a running sore in the 21st century. There is little evidence that 'good fences make good neighbours' when Kashmir has plenty of 'good fences'. The 1972 Simla Agreement dividing Indian-and Pakistan-administered Kashmir seemed, at least diplomatically a 'good fence'. But by 1999, the two nations were fighting over the Line of Control once more, and the resentment and hostilities have never faded. For Britain, the first and most obvious supposedly 'good fence' came after the First World War when 26 of Ireland's 32 counties were granted independence after the Anglo-Irish war. Every Irish person I know is familiar with this historic partition of what was the UK. People in England, Scotland and Wales not so much. The border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland has been the subject of dispute – and often violence – ever since the 1920s. That mostly ended with the Good Friday Agreement of 1998. While peace is welcome, the border issue is not entirely resolved. The border still exists, and so do aspirations from some in Northern Ireland to leave the United Kingdom and form a United Ireland. Cyprus is another British colonial example of fences not necessarily making good neighbours. Cyprus was a colony formally annexed by Britain in 1914 after being under Ottoman rule for more than 300 years. It became a Crown colony in 1925. British rule lasted until Cyprus gained independence in 1960 but since 1974, it is now also divided between Turkish and Greek Cyprus – another 'line of control' if not in name. Readers in the Middle East need no instruction in how the British and French colonial powers in 1916 divided lands into spheres of influence in the Sykes-Picot agreement. Those borders, walls, fences and battle lines have shifted at various times, especially after the creation of the state of Israel, but – to put it politely – there is no obvious sign of a good fence in the Middle East making necessarily good neighbours. In fact, considering the legacy of empire and the profound diplomatic questions raised by conflicts from Gaza to Kashmir, there may be some evidence of the opposite. Fences merely contain festering and unresolved grievances on both sides. Good neighbours require no fences – or at least limited border security. For example, until US President Donald Trump's recently expressed ambition to make Canada the 51st state of the US, most of us paid little attention to the world's longest border, the 8,850 kilometres that separate these two giants in North America. Much of this border is so remote from any population centre that you could walk across unchallenged. Unlike the US-Mexico border, even Mr Trump has no ambitions to 'build a wall and make Canada pay for it'. The hackneyed old phrase about neighbours and fences, therefore, should be turned around. Good neighbours do not need good fences, as you will notice driving across the EU from Madrid to Brussels to Berlin, then down to Sicily or Athens. The EU is a group of (mostly) good neighbours. Elsewhere, and especially now in South Asia, the post-colonial legacy of fences, borders and aggrieved neighbours is not one that the British should boast about.
