there is nothing the modern consumer likes more than choice and cheapness.

When, in 1915, a heavily armoured combat vehicle rolled into military service (nicknamed, rather incongruously, Little Willie), Britain’s secret weapon was finally revealed. For months it had been under construction in separate locations and listed in paperwork as a ‘water carrier for Mesopotamia’. This code name gave rise to the eventual name of t

That word ‘tribe’: it’s shifted a lot in the past decade, shedding its dubious, imperialistic connotations and striding confidently into the anthropological world, in which groups are determined less by genes and more by the work they do, the clothes they wear, or the passions they pursue.

The first deadline, back in the 1800s, was a line drawn around a military prison, and any prisoner who dared to cross it was liable to be shot.

‘It’s mind over matter; we don’t mind and you don’t matter.’

as Saki once put it, ‘a little inaccuracy sometimes saves a ton of explanation’,

the proprietor of a mug house or shicker shop, the pub landlord or -lady, is not without his or her own monikers. Among the earliest labels, in the 1500s, were the lick-spigot, ale-draper, and cove-of–the-ken. Today you’re more likely to hear the governor or mine host. In the years in-between, and if you were fond of a tipple, you might have encoun

two firm favourites in the Arsenal manager’s own lexicon: the adverb footballistically (‘footballistically, he’s ready for the first team’), and the adjective handbrakeish (‘I felt we were a little handbrakish today’).

These are the racers, who revel in steep climbs and who can be seen sucking vigorously on their energy gel to make them faster, better, stronger.