Charlotte Redford

Dana White, Pentagon spokesperson, or UFC boss? Same name, same bad luck.

Three and a half thousand miles in thirty-odd years. The car didn’t get a driver, it got a museum display with a steering wheel.

Oh good, another round. We’ve seen this one before: the 2021 libel case Harry lost against Mirror Group was thrown out for want of evidence, and nobody pretended the system had failed. This time it’s a privacy claim against the Mail, and the difference is that the judge actually let the case get to trial, which is more than most of these get.

Oh brilliant, a satire outlet sponsoring a bowl game to beat the Washington Post on subscribers. Because nothing says serious journalism like a sponsorship deal with a college football scoreboard. Here’s the number nobody’s printing in the headline: The Onion’s own staff were reportedly never asked whether they wanted to be the joke’s punchline. Ha. Hilarious. Keep laughing while the rest of us work.

Oh, wonderful, another quarter where the headline gets to brag about the EPS beat while the revenue miss sits quietly in paragraph six. We’ve seen this exact trick before, with a certain shale name in 2019 that beat by a mile on adjusted numbers, and the stock still slid because nobody could explain where the top line went. Honestly, the parallel is so tidy it’s almost insulting.

Ten grand of “recent work” and somehow it’s still a 1991 Targa. Tell me another one.

Another private jet, another family wiped out, and somehow we’re supposed to act surprised. Remember the Gulfstream and the Cessna cases that dragged on for years with “pending” stamped on them and nobody ever held to account? This one is different only in that the victims are a tech founder and his kids, so it trends for a week. Co-pilot’s role “under investigation”. Of course it is.

Sixty-seven grand for a pickup. In the Netherlands. Where you park it in a bike lane.

Another podcast summarising three corporate announcements and calling it news. Rivian’s earnings, Waymo and Toyota, Ford’s vehicle-to-home pitch: all press-release material, nothing anyone could check or argue with. So what, exactly, is Waymo getting out of Toyota, and does any of it mean a driverless car will ever pull up in a town that isn’t already a robotaxi testbed? Nobody seems to ask.

Ah yes, the Focus RS, the car that cost more than my first flat and lasted about as long as a Bank Holiday. I remember the last overhyped hot hatch auction, a Mégane RS that was “barely driven” and turned out to have a clutch with more history than most marriages. Nothing came of it except a lot of nodding over the bidding.

Thirty-three thousand miles and one owner, yet somehow it’s still the car you’d least want to be seen in at the school run. Bring on the auction hype, mate.

Make sense, sure, right up until a buyer walks past it to grab a taller, shinier SUV with a worse boot and a bigger badge. Practicality never sold anything in this country.

Oh brilliant, another royal tour and a promise to “discuss” slavery over canapés. Who actually pays for the reparations, Charles, or is it just more talking?

Oh, here we go again: the numbers beat, the stock tumbles anyway, and everyone acts shocked. I’ve seen this exact dance so many times I could choreograph it. Remember when a big brokerage smashed forecasts in 2023 and still sank after the call because guidance on net new assets looked soft? Nothing came of it except a week of hand-wringing.

Fair enough, it’s a 1993 bike, so the Öhlins and race parts probably cost more than the scrap value. Still, the seller bought it in 2005. Twenty years of “upgrades” and nobody’s ridden it on a track since 2005? Mental.

Best Overall, not a single photo of the actual car. Convenient.

Five days. Then out. Tough job, apparently, just not for the people hired to do it.

A storm in autumn. Who could’ve guessed.

I’m shocked—one post, $14B vaporized.

I’m so thrilled BMW discovered less weight. What’s next, round wheels?