Alan Davies: The Accidental Global Emissary of British Self-Deprecation By Our Correspondent in a Layover Lounge Somewhere Over the Caspian Somewhere between the Brexit hangover and the latest geopolitical migraine, a middle-aged man in a sensible jumper has become an unlikely piece of soft-power artillery. Alan Davies—yes, the one who used to be “that kid…
Renee Rapp, the North-Carolina-born soprano with a voice sharp enough to slice NATO red tape, has become an unlikely export commodity—one that even the most protectionist regimes haven’t bothered to tariff. From Berlin basement clubs to Seoul karaoke booths, her vocal runs are now traded like cultural cryptocurrency, a soft-power asset whose market cap rises…
Adam Driver and the Global Cult of the Unlikely Leading Man By Dave’s Locker Foreign Correspondent (currently self-exiled in a Reykjavik basement) PARIS—Somewhere between a NATO summit and the collapse of the third streaming platform this week, the planet decided its most bankable export is a 6-foot-3 former Marine with the gait of an irritated…
To the untrained eye, Peter Mandelson is merely a British peer in a succession of bespoke suits—tailor’s bills paid, one assumes, by the same mysterious offshore account that funds half the House of Lords’ dry-cleaning. Yet from Beijing boardrooms to Brussels back-channels, his silhouette keeps popping up like a well-dressed glitch in the matrix. Mention…
Bagpuss, the saggy cloth cat from 1974, is currently enjoying a second life on four continents—streaming in 17 languages, trending on Brazilian fan-art forums, and inspiring a boutique line of ethically sourced felt mice in Kyoto. All this for a programme that was originally cobbled together in a converted cowshed outside Leeds with a budget…
The Empire Strikes Back—With a Mic: How BBC Sports Became the World’s Genteel Referee While Rome Burns By the time the vuvuzelas had mercifully fallen silent in Johannesburg, the BBC’s World Cup coverage had already been translated into forty-three languages, pirated across three continents, and memed into oblivion on whatever corner of Weibo wasn’t behind…
Michelle Pfeiffer, the original cat-eyed sphinx of Hollywood, has spent four decades quietly proving that global soft power can be exercised in a Chanel suit and a smirk. While nations pour billions into embassies, summits, and panda-diplomacy, Pfeiffer has been exporting a far more potent product: immaculate cheekbones and the implicit promise that somewhere in…
James Corden: The Empire Exports Its Cheekiest Chappie By Our Man in a State of Permanent Jet Lag The British have a long, proud tradition of sending their most troublesome specimens abroad—convicts to Australia, Gordon Ramsay to Los Angeles, and, most recently, James Corden to the American late-night sofa. While the first two shipments arguably…
When Rob Reiner ambled onto the world stage in 1971, the planet was busy with other matters—China had just discovered ping-pong diplomacy, Nixon was rehearsing his exit lines, and half of Europe was still trying to find a decent tomato. Yet somewhere between Archie Bunker’s hollering and a meathead’s earnest protest, Reiner quietly became a…
The MLB Standings: A Global Scoreboard for American Soft Power and Existential Dread Somewhere between a Japanese semiconductor shortage and a French pension riot, the American pastime has quietly re-branded itself as the planet’s longest-running reality show. The standings that scroll across smartphones from Seoul to São Paulo are no longer just arithmetic for the…
Betty White at 103: The Last Global Consensus Before We All Started Hating Each Other Again If you mention Betty White in a bar in Berlin, a classroom in Lagos, or a noodle stall in Ho Chi Minh City, the reaction is eerily identical: a soft smile, a nostalgic sigh, perhaps a gentle clink of…
The planet, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that the most pressing export from the United States this season is not microchips, democracy, or even another streaming series about morally flexible hedge-fund managers, but rather the salty effusion of one 27-year-old defensive end named Josh Sweat. From Lagos traffic jams to the fjords of Norway,…
