The Oldie, 23–31 Great Titchfield Street, London, W1W 7PA letters@theoldie.co.uk To sign up for our e-newsletter, go to www.theoldie.co.uk
Waugh’s explosion in court SIR: I thoroughly enjoyed A N Wilson’s memories of Auberon Waugh (March issue) and his piece reminded me of the only time I came across Waugh, which was at the committal proceedings in November 1978 against Jeremy Thorpe and three other men for conspiracy to murder the male model Noman Scott. I was a young reporter on the Western Morning News and had gone to the committal at Minehead, with the rest of the press pack, expecting to be able to report just the bare details. We were all aghast when George Deakin, one of the accused, applied for reporting restrictions to be lifted, meaning every word could be reported. Auberon Waugh was there to get material for his book The Last Word – about Thorpe’s full trial, which came later at the Old Bailey – and although only in his late thirties appeared to this then young hack to be already ancient. Part way through the first day of the committal, I will never forget, Waugh lifted a cheek from the cramped press benches and let rip with a loud, rich and fruity fart. It seemed to take on a life of its own and changed in pitch and tone halfway through. All eyes were turned on him but, as one would expect, he did not bat an eyelid and simply waited for proceedings to resume. Vintage stuff! Regards, Michael Fleet, St Blazey, Cornwall
Bron’s real father SIR: In my tribute to Auberon Waugh (March issue), I said that Goethe’s ‘There was a king in Thule’ was sung at his funeral. It was in fact ‘King of the Boeotians’ from Gluck’s Orpheus, which was Bron’s party piece. And of course I knew his father to be not Arthur, but Evelyn Waugh! Forgive my ‘senior moments’. Yours etc, A N Wilson, London N6
background music accompanying many television programmes. I find it increasingly impossible to follow the spoken word on television because it is drowned out by music. Even news reports are rendered impossible for me to follow. The rules are simple: if programmemakers want their words to be heard and understood, they must not accompany them with other sounds. I did not complain about this when my television licence was free, but now I am paying for it, I resent the number of times I am driven to switch off mid-programme. Yours faithfully, Wally Harbert, Frome, Somerset
You dummies SIR: It was Joseph Cooper who was the master of the dummy keyboard on Face the Music (‘Our founding father’, March issue). Joseph Connolly is a writer. Regards, Ian Payn, Fulham, London
A diehard fan since issue 1 SIR: Congrats to all at The Oldie – a cornucopia of articles on every conceivable subject for 30 years … to make you laugh, cry, rage, rant, snigger, deride, agree, disagree, grind your teeth, mentally applaud … and, finally, to mean you have passed your time (on beach or in Bath chair) enjoying yourself and looking forward to the next one. I have taken The Oldie from issue 1 (first from curiosity at yet another magazine on the bookstalls) and was instantly recruited for ever. Characters famous/
Stop background music! SIR: Carolyn Whitehead (Rant, March issue) raises the issue of 42 The Oldie April 2022
‘I’d like to see a pie chart’
infamous, damnable, beguiling have graced (or otherwise) its pages. Long life and more power to all Oldie elbows. Beryl Fleming, Worthing
The wrong seeds SIR: Forgive my intruding on Rachel Johnson’s private recollections of the ‘unsung genre’ of ‘cover version’ music history (March issue), but Nick Cave’s original band was never really called his Lightning Seeds. Bad Seeds yes. But memories and music, notably certain genres, do at times take original turns together. William Keenan, Nottingham
Max Hastings’s wallet litter SIR: In The Old Un’s Notes in the February issue you refer to the film Operation Mincemeat and the contents of the descriptively named ‘wallet litter’, which prompted your correspondent David Shacklock to provide a list of the amazing items that he found in an old tweed jacket. The hoarding of surprising contents in pockets surely starts at a much earlier age than Mr Shacklock must have been. In 1960, as editor of The Greyfriar magazine while at Charterhouse, I decided to invite a representative sample of boys (one from each year) to empty all their pockets in order to establish what the average Carthusian might carry around with him. The prize for originality undoubtedly went to Max Hastings (now Sir Max, the military historian and former Editor of the Daily Telegraph.) Max’s pocket contents (which I remember vividly to this day), comprised: Handkerchief (very used) – 1 Biros – 2 Drawing pin – 1 (stored in right-hand trouser pocket, perilously kept at crotch level!) Russian Army colonel’s shoulder badge – 1 Collection of miniature books on tropical fish – 12 Toilet chain (high flush) – 1 I was as much impressed by the nature of Max’s pocket contents, as I was by his ability to store all those items about his
