This week saw an exciting new twist in the war against history. A statue of Thomas Jefferson, the third President of the United States, was removed from New York City Hall because of his links to the slave trade.

An intriguing decision. Because if Jefferson is now considered beyond the pale, surely other monuments to him should be removed as well.

For example: Mount Rushmore.

In a way, it’s remarkable that Mount Rushmore is still standing. Especially when you remember the other three presidents whose faces are carved into the mountainside. To Jefferson’s right is George Washington (1732-99), who kept hundreds of slaves. And to Jefferson’s left is Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919), who said that black people were “unfit” to vote.

Completing the quartet is Abraham Lincoln (1809-65). Admittedly, Lincoln did abolish slavery, and was assassinated after arguing in favour of black suffrage. But that hasn’t stopped students at the University of Wisconsin from campaigning to have a statue of Lincoln removed from their campus, because they deem him insufficiently anti-racist by 21st-century standards. Indeed, the leader of the campaign claimed that the statue of Lincoln made black students feel as if they “really don’t belong here”.

Presumably, therefore, Lincoln should be removed from Mount Rushmore too. So that’s all four presidents. The whole thing will have to go.

The only question is how it should be done. Mountains are notoriously tricky to pull down. It would not be easy for a group of Left-wing activists, no matter how determined, to knot a rope around Mount Rushmore, haul it over, and then plunge it into the nearest harbour. Nor would it be easy to transport Mount Rushmore to a museum, where it could be put on display with a sign apologising for its existence. Activists would need to locate a crane strong enough to lift it, a truck big enough to carry it, and a museum with unusually large doors.

Thankfully, there is an alternative solution. Using mountaineering equipment and chisels, activists could simply rework the faces on the mountainside, so that they resemble four figures who are more deserving of our admiration. Say, Greta Thunberg, Bernie Sanders, Noam Chomsky and the Duchess of Sussex.

Then, if for any reason those four figures turn out to be problematic too, the chisels can swiftly be used to carve out another four instead.

And curse Sir Walter Raleigh

Yesterday, as I sat down to watch the first of the new Beatles documentaries on Disney+, something peculiar happened. A warning appeared on screen, which read: “Contains tobacco depiction.” This was followed by a second warning, which read: “Contains explicit language, mature themes and smoking.”

It seemed very odd. I knew smoking was unhealthy. But I had no idea that it was now considered offensive, as well. Sufficiently offensive, in fact, to warrant not one but two warnings. Just in case the poor, unsuspecting viewer somehow missed the first, and found himself traumatised for life by the harrowing sight of a lit cigarette.

Funny how times change. A hundred years ago, practically every man, woman and child in Britain smoked 80 cigarettes a day. Babies would saunter out of the womb, puffing on a Player’s. Yet now, in 2021, smoking is deemed so objectionable that broadcasters feel compelled to sit us down gently beforehand and warn us of the horror we are about to witness, as if they were preparing a roomful of nuns for a screening of Squid Game.

In the 1960s, the Beatles were accused of glamorising LSD. These days no one minds about that. We’re only shocked by their use of tobacco.

Why the ‘nu’ variant has a new name

The World Health Organisation has announced that the latest Covid variant will be called “omicron” (the Greek equivalent of the letter O) rather than “nu” (the Greek equivalent of the letter N). A wise decision. Calling it “nu” would have been disastrous.

If you can’t see why, ask an American. To American ears, “nu” sounds identical to “new”, because in the US they pronounce both as “noo”. So calling the variant “nu” would have led to untold confusion when yet another Covid variant was inevitably detected a few months later.

Imagine. It’s spring 2022, and a White House aide bursts into the Oval Office to see Joe Biden.

“Mr President, sir, I’ve got bad news about Covid. There’s a new variant.”

“Of course there’s a nu variant, dumbass. It’s been around since November last year.”

“No, sir, I’m not talking about the nu variant. I’m talking about the new variant.”

“So am I.”

“No, sir, you’re thinking of the nu variant. Whereas I meant the new variant. As in, a variant that’s new. And I’m afraid the nu variant is nowhere near as bad as the new variant.”

“The new variant isn’t as bad as the nu variant?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“No, sir. Perhaps I’m not making myself clear. Let me explain. The nu variant is the old variant. And although the nu variant is still out there, it will soon be replaced by the new variant. Which is why we need to focus on the new variant, not the nu variant. Beating the nu variant was tough enough. But beating the new variant is going to be a whole lot tougher.”

“Aw, jeez. And people say I’m incoherent.”