𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝔀𝓼

Unless you’re riding a motorbike or bombing down a ski slope, I can’t think of a single good reason on God’s green earth for you to wear a balaclava in public. So why am I seeing them so flipping much? Walk through almost any town centre and you’ll see groups of lads dressed head-to-toe in black tracksuits with their faces completely covered. It’s 30 degrees outside, but apparently they’re worried about catching a chill. Give me a break!

Nobody’s wearing a balaclava in a heatwave because they’re cold. They’re wearing it because they don’t want to be recognised, and while not everyone hiding their face is planning to commit a crime, let’s not pretend criminals don’t benefit from anonymity. If you’re about to nick a phone, rob a shop or threaten someone in the street, covering your face is hardly a disadvantage.

I’m 6ft 2in tall, 18 stone, and broad-shouldered, yet even I think twice when I walk past a group of masked lads loitering outside my local kebab shop. If that’s how I feel, imagine being an elderly pensioner or a woman walking home on her own.

We’ve somehow accepted that seeing masked people in our high streets is just part of modern Britain. It shouldn’t be. I think Parliament needs to have a serious conversation about banning face coverings in public, with sensible exemptions for genuine medical reasons. Before the usual suspects start hyperventilating, this isn’t about criminalising streetwear fashion. It’s about saying that in a civilised society, people should be identifiable when they’re walking around shared public spaces.

This isn’t a groundbreaking suggestion by the way, we’ve done it before. Back in the early 2000s, shopping centres and schools clamped down on hoodies because they made anti-social behaviour harder to police. The usual crowd screamed that young people were being stereotyped, and yeah, maybe some were. But it also sent a clear message that hiding your identity wasn’t something society should encourage.

And don’t tell me the answer is simply banning balaclavas either. The game’s gone if that’s the best we can come up with. The miscreants will just swap them for snoods, scarves or whatever the next fashion accessory is. The issue isn’t the item of clothing, it’s the deliberate concealment of someone’s face. There’s another reason this matters too.

Human beings are wired to read faces. We judge trust, emotion and intent through a smile, a raised eyebrow or a worried expression. Strip all that away and public spaces instantly feel more hostile and less safe.

That same principle inevitably raises questions about other face coverings, including the burqa and niqab. I know many people regard those garments as an expression of their faith, and I respect that they hold that belief. But if the principle is that faces should be visible in shared public spaces, then it has to apply equally to everyone. The rule should be simple. If you’re out in public, people should be able to see your face.

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are Marmite. We all know it. You either love them or you can’t stand them, and very few people in Britain at least sit on the fence. Whatever side you’re on, though, I think it’s genuinely sad that things have deteriorated so badly between them and the Royal Family. Families fall out, it happens. But when your family is also one of Britain’s most important institutions, everybody loses – including us citizens.

Before anyone accuses me of going soft on the Sussexes, hear me out. Harry and Meghan brought something very different to the monarchy. Meghan wasn’t born into the aristocracy, she was a successful, mixed-race American actress who’d built her own career long before meeting Harry. Together they gave the Royal Family a younger, more modern feel, and that was needed.

The polling reflected that too. While older generations have always been the monarchy’s biggest supporters, Harry and Meghan tended to connect better with younger people who might otherwise have switched off from royal life altogether.

You might think they handled things terribly, and I’d be inclined to agree with you. You might, however, think the Palace treated them unfairly and pushed them out. That’s a debate that’ll rumble on for years. But imagine what could have been if they’d all found a way to make it work. Instead of a united Royal Family with broad appeal across the generations, we’ve ended up with interviews, court cases, brothers estranged, books and bitterness.

This will sound harsh, but I think we need to bring back healthy shaming. I’m not talking about public humiliation. I mean the sort of social pressure that stopped people taking the mickey. Growing up on a council estate in the West Midlands were some of the happiest days of my life. We didn’t have much money, but there was pride. Our parents got up, went to work and taught us that when school finished at age 16, you either got a job or carried on your education. You didn’t just sign on and make excuses.

If someone’s front garden looked like a jungle, the neighbours would soon have something to say. If you behaved badly, word got back to your mum before you got home. Nobody wanted to be known as the family that couldn’t be bothered. Somewhere along the way we’ve confused standards with bullying. We’ve become so frightened of offending people that we’ve stopped expecting anything from them.

Sometimes a little bit of shame is exactly what a community needs.