Issue 26 Has Landed
Print, print, print, print, print. Print. PRINT.
Dear Readers,
It’s the most wonderful time of the year: issue launch day. We’ve teased it, we’ve trailed it, we’ve called it our best ever and, by God, we mean it. As we speak, the nation’s postbags heave with black & orange; mags are slapping doormats to the behest of family pets; newsagents are quelling the nerves of anxious, jonesing customers. Issue 26 – the Print Special – is finally here.
What’s inside? As exclusively revealed in our typically weekly newsletter, our lead feature, ‘Rumours of Our Death’, is an oral history of British magazines in the 21st century. We trace the demise and recent rise of the industry we adore, with help along the way from a Who’s Who of print legends: Graydon Carter, Jo Ellison, Kate Spicer, Ian Hislop, Jeremy Leslie, Miranda Sawyer, Chris Floyd, Alex Bilmes, Andrew Neil and Geordie Greig. It’s weighty, candid and, as the title suggests, defiant.
Of course, as mere scribes, we once again deferred to the outrageous talents of our art director Mathias Clottu and his team, who have scaled the visual ambition of this issue to soaring new heights, in concert with the beautiful illustrations of Martin Groch, John Broadley, Paul Cox and Natalya Lobanova. And while we’re at it, our copy wouldn’t be as spotless as it is without the gimlet eye of Paul Fleckney.
As for the pieces, John ‘The Don’ Banville returns, telling us about his time on the subs desk of the Irish Press. You won’t be surprised to learn that it is a gorgeous, ribald read from the master prose stylist himself. Elsewhere, Sarah Haque has another beautiful essay for us, this time reflecting on her chimerical British-Bengali identity; her experiences of Britishness, foreignness, nicknames and stereotypes. Bookending the Facts section, we have Edward Platt to begin, paying tribute to ‘The Da Vinci of Halton Moor’, Jimi Heselden, who died an ignominious death that belied an extraordinary life; then, Chris Black – the world’s trendiest man, as he loves to be called – who covers the strange, co-dependent relationship between celebs and their hangers-on.
Our lead feature is, of course, not our only one. Opening the section, we have a spectacular debut from James Riding, who shines a spotlight on the inexplicable death of an English boy in the west of Ireland, and his parents’ valiant fight for justice and recognition. To close, Ian Trueger returns – as we teased two newsletters ago – with a meaty long read about private equity’s Rabelaisian appetite for restaurant brands, from mid-market to high-brow and everything in between. If you’re wondering how the same five names became ubiquitous on Britain’s high streets, feeding microwaved food to mewling children, this piece can tell you why, and much else besides.
This issue’s short story is one of the best we’ve ever published: ‘Cannonball!’ by Naomi Wood– a wry satire about a female film director navigating the nightmare of living her dream. One to settle into on the sofa over Christmas, a real delight.
In the funny pages, Guardian wine critic Hannah Crosbie teams up with The Fence’s Kieran Morris, to mix ghastly ingredients into vodka and vermouth while asking the question: ‘Will It Martini?’ As they learn, radishes most certainly do not; Pickled Onion Monster Munch, on the other hand…
Courting controversy as we are wont to do, we arbitrarily rank all the historical counties of England, from North Yorkshire to the Isle of Wight. A reminder that all positions are final and not up for debate, so don’t write in. Tom Ford poses some deep questions, both scatological and eschatological, to some of the capital’s greatest culinary minds: Joké Bakare, Slutty Cheff, the E. Pelicci team and Three Lees (Jeremy, Abby and ___ Tiernan). And to close, we go extremely meta in a way we can’t really explain for fear of spoiling the joke in ‘Under the Hood’ – an anatomy of a TF piece.
Is this our greatest issue, you may ask? Yes, of course it is. We can only hope you have as much joy reading Issue 26 as we had in putting it together. Don’t delay, get your copy straight away – tap the button below and we’ll take it from there.
Catch you next Tuesday for our regularly scheduled programming. Until then.
All the best,
TF





Thank you for the honour of last place for the Isle of Wight, and for solid reasons, too – unlike your nondescript dismissal of lesser places (Norfolk 👀).
I don’t know who hurt you here, but I hope “a place of genuine giggling, evil” gets sewn into the bunting and graffitied onto the sides of the ferries. Notoriety counts for so much more than fame.
Also I’m assuming that leaving the sub-editing article one line short is a copy-fitting in-joke to amuse Banville?