The top 10 most desolate places in the north east

Lord Howell of Guildford has suggested the "desolate" north east would be the perfect place for fracking, and you can really see what he means.

The Conservative peer Baron Howell of Guildford, father-in-law to the Chancellor George Osborne, has made a strong case in favour of limiting shale gas fracking to "the large" and "desolate" areas of the UK. He suggested it would be "a mistake to think of and discuss fracking in terms of the whole of the United Kingdom in one go", suggesting the north east might be a reasonable possibility.

And you can see what he means. A nation's economy doesn't run on thin air after all. Somebody has to pay the price. Why not those feckless, scrounging wildings in the north east? They don't even like their surroundings, unlike those who recently put a stop to any suggestion of fracking in the home counties. I mean, just look at the desolation! How could they?

Yuk. Desolation near Bamburgh, Northumberland.

Boys, get your drills. The Middlesbrough Institute of Modern Art. Photograph: John Lord.

I can feel the bile rising. Alnmouth. Photograph: Andy Hawkins.

Everything the light touches is DESOLATE.

Why build a distinguished concert venue when you could have a nice hole in the ground? The Sage, Gateshead. Photograph: IntangibleArts.

The home of St Cuthbert, patron saint of the north of England. FRACKED. Photograph: Lee Bailey.

Preston Park, near Stockton-on-Tees. FRACK IT! Photograph: Justin Pickard.

This church was built on an original Roman shale gas mine. St Hilda's, Hartlepool. Photograph: Swalophoto.

Desolation by night. Baltic Centre for Contemporary Arts, Gateshead. Photograph: Gail Johnson.

Perhaps most offensive of all, the houses where those wretched northern sprites live. Robin Hood's Bay, North York Moors. Photograph: Arco Ardon.

Philip Maughan is Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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Why a group of Brunel students walked out on Katie Hopkins instead of no-platforming her

"We silently walked out because Ms Hopkins has the right to speak, but we also have the right to express our discontent."

Earlier this week, columnist and all-round provocateur Katie Hopkins turned up to Brunel University to join a panel in debating whether the welfare state has a place in 2015. No prizes for guessing her stance on this particular issue

But as Hopkins began her speech, something odd happened. Around 50 students stood up and left, leaving the hall half-empty.

Here's the video:

As soon as Hopkins begins speaking, some students stand up with their backs to the panelists. Then, they all leave - as the nonplussed chair asks them to "please return to their seats". 

The walk-out was, in fact, pre-planned by the student union as an act of protest against Hopkins' appearance at an event held as part of the University's 50th anniversary celebrations. 

Ali Milani, the Brunel Student Union president, says he and other students knew the walk-out would "start a conversation" around no-platforming on campuses, but as he points out, "What is often overlooked (either purposely or as a result of the fanfare) is that the conversation at no point has been about banning Ms Hopkins from speaking on campus, or denying her right to speak."

Instead, students who found her appearance at the welfare debate "incongruous" and "distasteful" simply left the room: "We silently walked out because Ms Hopkins has the right to speak, but we also have the right to express our discontent."

Milani praised the student body for treading the line between freedom of speech and expressing their distaste at Brunel's decision: 

"They have respectfully voiced their antagonism at the decision of their institution, but also . . . proven their commitment to free of speech and freedom of expression."

The protest was an apt way to dodge the issues of free speech surrounding no-platforming, while rejecting Hopkins' views. A walk-out symbolises the fact that we aren't obliged to listen to people like Hopkins. She is free to speak, of course, albeit to empty chairs. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.