Hidden in plain sight on the bustling streets of London is a PR battle for the city’s soul. The FT reported this week on how London’s Black Cab community – stricken by the rise of ride hailing apps- plans to deal with its latest existential threat: driverless taxis.
Waymo and Wayve, the purveyors of London’s incoming robot taxis, have in some ways had the easy pre-publicity job; beyond the sensitivities required to clear regulatory hurdles, the basic strategy has been tubthumping about progress, efficiency and cost (with a rigorous footnote about safety to allay any trepidation).
The cabbies have a more difficult job, and it was intriguing to see how they sold an ostensibly more expensive and less convenient option.
It’s important to note that this didn’t have the feeling of a coordinated campaign (at least not in terms of messaging) and there are not many communications strategists who would have advocated the threat of ‘skulduggery’ which became the article’s headline - and included an anonymous suggestion that cabbies might try to bait robotaxis into crashes and then blame them for it.
This kind of discourse will surely only benefit the automatons, but deeper into the discussion came a valid point. Even if the engineers have successfully programmed the vehicles with maxims for the thousands of miniature Trolly Problems inherent in driving in a city like London, these must surely assume that pedestrians and other external forces will play nice.
Anyone who has been to London knows that this won’t be the case; unlike motorist-dominated cities like LA, London’s roads are governed by wildly unpredictable and less than altruistic pedestrians and cyclists.
This led to one interviewee in the FT article to point out a potentially intractable problem: zebra crossings. Surely the maxim programmed into the driverless car is to give pedestrians right of way; so what if the flow of pedestrians never stops?
“Drivers can nudge through the rush-hour stream of commuters at a zebra crossing by a City station, he noted. “These AVs will not move… they will be stuck there till next Christmas!””
These predictions will inevitably collide with the reality of the robotic rollout, but even in a potentially losing battle the cabbies have landed a blow in the fight for the future of London’s streets.
This week we found out legendary tennis player Nick Kyrgios has tested positive for cocaine, thus being suspended from playing professional tennis for the foreseeable future.
Kyrgios started his professional career at 19, immediately gaining attention for his tennis skill and “bad boy” attitude, from his style to his demeanour. It was clear from the start that the 19 year old was ill-equipped to deal with the pressures of carrying the hopes of the nation, and his outbursts at referees, coaches, and anyone in his line of sight set the tone for the rest of his career.
The public wanted to believe the bright tennis star would get his act together, frequently granting his apparent benefit-of-the-doubt, but testing positive for cocaine was the final straw.
On top of outbursts and racket smashing, he has been accused of assaulting his ex-girlfriend, he has retweeted the misogynist influencer Andrew Tate and has had allegations of spitting. Unlike other famous tennis bad boy John McEnroe, known for screaming at umpires and making good television, Kyrgios’s aggression has taken on a rather more sombre undertone, crossing the line from entertainment to decidedly problematic.
McEnroe’s tantrums were repackaged as passion and his legacy remains protected. Kyrgios’s Instagram apology, citing injury, loneliness and mental health, perhaps landed with more sympathy than his record warranted, but the broader reaction remains resignation rather than affection.
Niu Lai, a Chinese animated film about a calf earned £7,000 in its first ten days. Made over five years by a self-taught filmmaker and his mother, the 86-minute movie looked destined for quiet obscurity. The New York Times noted the plot was baffling and the animation compared to a PowerPoint presentation. Budget was so low that staff had to hand draw the posters.
Clips spread across Chinese social media. The worse it looked, the more people needed to see it. Users began describing the crude visuals as “handmade,” partly mockery, partly affectionate. Bloomberg noted the film was now on track for 135 million yuan in revenue, rivalling Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey in China’s animated film charts.
The so-bad-it’s-good narrative is not new, however the surprising affection with which Niu Lai has been treated (alongside the mockery) speaks to our growing disillusionment with AI. At a moment when audiences are drowning in AI-generated polished ‘perfection’, something visibly flawed, and undeniably human, is a refreshing antidote.
Andy Burnham has spent the past few days confirming he exchanged text messages with someone impersonating Susie Wiles, Donald Trump’s chief of staff and, by most accounts, the most powerful woman in the White House.
He grew suspicious partway through, stopped replying, and reported it. Him and other officials briefed on the matter say “nothing of consequence” was discussed.
Being fooled by a fake senior official is, unglamorously, a British political tradition. Tony Blair was duped by a faux William Hague in ’98. David Cameron did it twice, once as Prime Minister and most recently in 2024 when someone posed as Ukraine’s former president. Boris Johnson once spent 18 minutes discussing Russian sanctions with a hoax caller. Ben Wallace and Priti Patel both took calls from a fake Ukrainian Prime Minister the same year. Amongst that litany of ministerial faux pas, Burnham’s brush with the scammer seems to be more occupational hazard, less grave error.
When asked if he was embarrassed (he definitely was), Burnham said “No, I’m not... I did everything right.” It’s fair to say the story has largely moved on, with most of the headlines concentrated over a one-to-two-day period.
It is worth asking whether the same mistake would have received the same treatment had it been made by Keir Starmer. It’s not difficult to imagine how his critics and the press might have framed the misstep as evidence of a leader out of his depth, questioning his political judgement and competence.
By contrast, the reporting of Burnham’s blunder has remained largely factual rather than turning into a referendum on his judgement. Coverage has also focused on wider security concerns, including reports that a number of MPs’ phone numbers had been leaked, as well as last year’s FBI investigation that took place after Wiles had again been impersonated. Trump said at the time that “nobody can impersonate Susie. There’s only one Susie” which didn’t age well, to say the least.
Perhaps the PM’s political strategy is working after all. His biggest achievement is that he’s largely avoided becoming the story…a trick Keir Starmer never quite mastered.
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