Allison, I know the world is killing you – but where did it all go wrong? | John Crace

We need to talk about Allison.

Thirty years ago Allison Pearson was an award-winning TV critic for the Independent. Funny and sharp. About as close to a bleeding heart north London liberal as you can get. A must-read for other journalists.

In 2002, she published her first novel, I Don’t Know How She Does It, a laugh-out-loud comedy of a middle-class mother trying to juggle a career with having children. It went on to sell 4m copies and was made into a film. Writing careers don’t get off to much better starts.

After stints on the Evening Standard, the Daily Telegraph and the Daily Mail, Pearson settled down at the Telegraph in 2010 and has become one of their great and the good: a star columnist and interviewer. But somewhere along the way she seems to have lost her sense of humour. Many of her columns are long howls of despair. Nothing seems to give her pleasure any more.

The daily grind of modern life is too much for her. Nothing is as good as it once was. A centre-left Labour party is turning the UK into a Marxist state. The Conservative party isn’t nearly conservative enough. It too has been infiltrated by lefties. At the moment, Kemi Badenoch has her guarded support for being on the right side of the culture wars but don’t hold your breath that this will continue. Allison’s specialist subject is disappointment.

So where did the world all go wrong for her? She was a hardline Brexiter so she should at least be happy about that. Though you wouldn’t know it from reading her. Is she unhappy that subsequent books were not so enthusiastically received by critics and readers? Has she not forgiven the deep state HMRC for making her bankrupt for non-payment of taxes?

Or has everything just got too much for her? The shift from left to right that affects so many people as they get older. Maybe this is one for her and her therapist. Though I’m guessing that therapy might be a little too woke for her. Or maybe it’s all an act. Pearson saves all her fury for her columns and in person is sweetness and light. The life and soul of any gathering who never has a bad word to say about anything. A woman who embraces the joy of modern life.

Fair to say that Allison is a complicated person. Because you would have expected her to have been thrilled by all the attention she has been getting over the last week. After years of writing about the evils of political correctness, two-tier policing and the country going to the dogs, Pearson now finds herself at the centre of the storm. Not just howling into a pitiless void but a possible victim.

Surely validation doesn’t come any better than this. For years she has been saying she was right and now she has been all along. Now she thinks she might have proof after being interviewed at her home by two policemen. Here it gets tricky as two truths are available. Pearson insisted she was told she was being investigated for a non-crime hate incident. Essex police have subsequently corrected this, releasing a transcript of body cam footage showing that she was being interviewed in connection with inciting racial hatred. Take your pick.

Instead of being ecstatic, Allison has been outraged. Over and over again in various front page splashes in the Telegraph and in posts on X. Then, perhaps there is a very fine dividing line between ecstasy and outrage. Because some people might have wanted to keep quiet about being suspected of racism. A bit ashamed even. But not Pearson. In all her interactions, there is only one victim. Herself. It’s possible she has more in common with the wokerati than she imagines.

It started with a tweet. Allison had spotted a photograph of a policeman posing with some brown people holding a flag. This was enough for her to condemn in a tweet the Metropolitan police for associating with “Jew haters”. She hadn’t stopped to notice that the policemen were from Manchester and the people and the flag were Pakistani. After this was pointed out to her, she deleted the tweet.

Pearson has subsequently tweeted that she is not racist and that the tweet was not racist. It was just an everyday mistake. See what appears to be a group of Muslims with a flag and assume they must be Hamas and hate all Jews. Now think this one through from the other side. You see a photo of some Jews holding an Israeli flag and assume they must all hate Muslims. Either way, let’s just say it certainly wasn’t a tweet full of generosity and inclusion. Or maybe that’s just Allison’s curious way of expressing her love for all people. Her funny little ways. The legality is for others to determine.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, because of the blanket coverage in the Telegraph, the investigation has become political. Roger Hirst, the Conservative Essex police and crime commissioner, was on LBC radio defending the right of the police to pursue this investigation, pointing out that the 1986 Public Order Act defines this as a crime with a maximum sentence of seven years. Allison’s supporters have accused Hirst of being incompetent and spineless. Part of the modern world they hate.

Keir Starmer has even interrupted his time at the G20 in Rio to comment. Or rather not to comment. This is one fight of which he wants to stay clear. His view was that police time was better spent dealing with shoplifters than long-since deleted tweets. He has a point. Though it would be nice if they could deal with both. It doesn’t have to be either-or.

That just leaves Allison. The real victim in all this. The ingenue lost in a Kafkaesque struggle with the state. She was due to appear on both Nick Ferrari’s radio show and Good Morning Britain on Monday morning. We weren’t told why she didn’t. Perhaps she has finally had enough of the limelight. Late in the afternoon, Jon Sopel tweeted he had invited her on to the News Agents podcast. She had refused, with a reminder that if he got anything wrong her lawyers would be listening. The great champion of free speech had spoken.

Taking the Lead by John Crace is published by Little, Brown (£18.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.

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