Time for an open thread, I think. But first,

Yes, let’s squeeze in another visit to the Guardian‘s Dining Across the Divide series, in which “strangers from across the divide” – albeit strangers with, very often, eerily similar opinions and a common choice of newspaper – “discuss the divisive issues of our time” and attempt to “bridge their political differences.” Should any significant differences actually materialise.

Yes, a series in which the entire breadth of conceivable political thought – as imagined by the Guardian‘s intellectual powerhouse Zoe Williams – is given an airing. And where left-leaning teachers, left-leaning writers and left-leaning university administrators discuss just how awful and stupid those non-leftwing people are, and whether Net Zero is super-imperative or just really, really important.

A series in which totally random Guardian readers – sorry, totally random members of the public – encounter “the opposite point of view,” while chewing on kale and butternut squash. Except that they both vote Green and are named Tamsin and Matilda.

This week, the clashing titans are BJ, a vegan and Lib Dem-voting writer, and Toby, a Labour-voting student now enthused by the Greens.

As you’d imagine, there’s much laughter and gaiety:

“I don’t see there’s any debate,” says Toby.

It’s all going terribly well, this debate thing.

Sadly, details of any clashing are for the most part left to the imagination. Filthy details are few and far between. Though BJ is slightly more concerned by exactness of terminology, and by antisemitism, of which both disapprove.

Says BJ,

I know. It’s just one blow after another.

To which, Toby replies,

At which point, I could just leave this here.

And this.

And this.

And this.

And this.

And this.

And this.

And this.

And…

Well, we’ll be here all day. And we must push on.

And so, during dessert:

Again, it’s all clash, clash, clash. Whether either participant is married or in some way entangled is, alas, not divulged.

And in a final, shocking twist:

Do take a moment to recover from all that spirited thrusting.

Previously in this bare-knuckle arena of Guardian debate:

As commenter Rafi quipped following the above,

Well, indeed. On poking through the series, of the three Conservative voters I could find, two were very soft Conservative, in the sense of actually voting for Labour, and the token Reform voter was oddly steeped in the Guardian tongue, showing great enthusiasm for “wealth taxes,” and disliking Mrs Thatcher.

This seems to be a common pattern – lefties and, well, almost lefties bonding over their dislike of Reform or Mr Trump. There’s very little substance to be had. It’s chiefly leftist boilerplate with some occasional and oddly flaccid pushback. Hardly representative of rebuttals one might offer. And not exactly capturing the tensions of our time.

Update, via the comments:

EmC quotes this,

And adds, not unfairly,

Quite.

Among the many miracles conjured into being by the Green Party in Brighton were numerous, long strikes interrupting basic services; residents having to wade through mountains of uncollected garbage for weeks on end; subsequent invasions by rats; plans to abolish car use in the city; and – despite the party’s ecological mania – the lowest recycling rates in the country.

Not to mention the endless manufactured congestion and astronomical parking fees, due to the council’s hostility to car ownership; the loss of tourism revenue as a direct result of these policies; countless failures to maintain simple infrastructure; and pavements overgrown with weeds to a degree that endangered the elderly and called to mind some dystopian science fiction.

For those unfamiliar with the farce in question, long-time Brighton resident Julie Burchill conveyed something of its scope and flavour:

And what every voter wants is a city councillor laughing at their frustration when trying to do formerly simple things. A frustration entirely the fault of said councillor’s own party and their bizarre policies. In this case, a policy based on a belief that when people go to the local dump – sorry, recycling centre – they do so by bicycle.

Readers are welcome to picture Brighton residents making three-mile journeys by pedal bike with old fridges and unwanted microwaves strapped to their backs.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. Open thread. Share ye links and bicker, baby.

Lifted from the comments, a reminder, were one needed, that you don’t despise the media anywhere near enough.

In this case, it’s Flemish public television – not unlike our own BBC – and one guest’s realisation that any discussion of rising intolerance and a growing enthusiasm for violence against women must arrive at certain predetermined conclusions, regardless of the facts:

The seemingly routine attempt to deceive does rather invalidate the ostensible core function of this publicly funded organisation. It throws everything they do into question. How could one possibly trust them? It quite literally wipes out their credibility as a broadcaster. And by extension, any claim to public funding or favoured status.

In a saner world, it would be the end of them.

I say ostensible function because it’s not altogether obvious – to say the least – how one could reconcile some supposed broadcaster’s mission to convey the facts, and to bring into being an informed citizenry, with doing everything possible to prevent precisely that.

And doing so in a manner one might regard as practised.

Update, via the comments:

Should anyone assume that our own BBC is any more trustworthy in this regard, by all means think again. Do note the willingness of senior BBC employees to lie, repeatedly. Brazenly. Supposedly in the name of some fluffy and fragrant tomorrow. As if we should be grateful for their efforts to deceive us.

Update 2:

In light of the above, it may be worth revisiting this gathering of Canadian media luminaries, at Carleton University’s School of Journalism and Communication, where much bewilderment is expressed regarding the public’s supposedly inexplicable dislike of journalists:

Readers amused by eye-widening self-flattery will find much to entertain.

Update 3:

In the comments, Martin D notes the BBC link, above, and adds,

What’s surprising, I suppose, even to the cynical, is the realisation that the omissions and bias aren’t just a result of carelessness or some subconscious preference, but are actively engaged in. Knowingly. By people – broadcasters – who are terribly progressive and therefore happy to lie.

Again, with the implication that it’s being done for our own good. As if we, the public, should be grateful for their efforts to deceive us.

I should add that the BBC has very recently admitted a correlation of migrant status and crime, albeit belatedly – very belatedly – and while trying to downplay the full extent of the phenomenon, again in ways that are deceptive.

And all it took was other people doing the job the BBC wouldn’t – while being badmouthed for it by the BBC and other mainstream media – and years of stabbings, assaults, child grooming, murders and rapes. Oh, and an attempted beheading or two.

170,000 offences in one year alone. That’s 473 arrests per day. Or if you prefer, one every three minutes.

Our betters, you know.

The great political divide – Guardian-style:

Yes, an “always Labour” politics teacher clashes with a GP who votes “Labour every general election.” No crockery was thrown, you’ll be astounded to hear. To spare you the unbearable suspense, both dislike Mr Trump. That’s pretty much it. Both ordered cocktails and had “a really positive experience” chatting to the other. Or, in effect, to themselves.

Really getting to the bottom of things.

Previously in the world of vastly different people with vastly different views:

The Guardian series Dining Across The Divide, in which supposedly contrasting characters thrash out their differences, should any materialise at some point, is credited to Zoe Williams, whose mouthings have proved so inadvertently entertaining to regulars of this parish.

Meanwhile, in the world of not-at-all-unbalanced cross-dressing men:

Wait for it.

Do take a moment to steady yourselves.

Darts and blowpipes authorised.

No other possibilities being, it seems, conceivable.

Sharp-eyed readers will be shocked to learn,

A busy social life. Lots of hobbies.

Oh, and musical performance. He does that too.

At the time of writing, the local media and police are still referring to Mr Osterhout as if he were a woman. A delicate flower. Not a deranged 260-pound man who stabs random people and punches children. Fuchsia hotpants notwithstanding.

Above, Mr Osterhout sharing his inner womanliness with random passers-by.

We’ve previously noted the enthusiasm of the police and media for referring to violently deranged cross-dressing men as somehow being ladies, she-people, thereby misleading the public and treating the victims of said men with a bizarre disdain. As seen, for instance, here:

This readiness to deceive has persisted even when the individual in question was arrested for attacking a mother and her four-month-old baby while crazed and shirtless, and even when the purported ladies have been identified via the very male genetic material left at the scenes of their crimes.

But hey. This is where we are now. Pretending is obligatory.

And in shoe-related news:

Yes, I know. Another entry for our Thing That Never Happens file.

But first, a flashback:

Don’t ask.

A pattern repeated upon his release, and hence a second, present-day appearance in court. But this time, with added kinks and complications:

Because this is where we are now. Or where the Germans are, at least.

Happily, the court decided that, as the gentleman, referred to only as Klaus, had not yet legally asserted his claim of being the opposite sex, the charges of exhibitionism were indeed applicable. And so, another spell in Bedlam.

Still, I suspect those new silicone pseudo-breasts, acquired between stays, may be some consolation.

Perhaps less happily,

A comfort to all concerned, I’m sure.

After all, what could possibly go wrong when housing with women a mentally ill man who likes to hold knives to women’s throats before stealing their footwear, and hoarding said footwear for sexual purposes? A man who delights in stalking women, assaulting them, and waving his tallywhacker at mothers with their young daughters.

A man who is referred to in the German media, somewhat surreally, as a woman, a she-person, despite being identified via the very male genetic material left at the scenes of his crimes.

Oh, and should you be concerned about the whereabouts of all those stolen items, fear not:

Her treasures, obligingly stored.

Update, via the comments:

Alice quotes this from the bizarrely misleading German news coverage:

She then adds, not unreasonably,

Indeed. And for the women he robbed and assaulted, and the women and girls at whom he flashed his penis, it must be quite odd, and probably aggravating, to hear media reports of some entirely imaginary shoe-robbing, penis-flashing woman.

As noted here previously regarding a not dissimilar incident:

And,

But we live in unhinged times. In which observable reality is something to be ignored.