Another Diary

I left James Lees-Milne behind in London so was pleased to find a copy of The Diaries of Auberon Waugh, a Turbulent Decade, 1976 –  1985, when I was in a charity shop in Pembroke.

These diaries were originally published in Private Eye. They gave the PE legal team plenty of food for thought and from time to time, litigation frequently ensuing with the late Sir James Goldsmith leading the pack. Here’s a flavour of Bron’s style.

January 30, 1982

Ken Livingstone is everywhere these days, spreading his words of wisdom like rhinoceros droppings all around. Today, at the North London Polytechnic, I hear him describe the Law Lords as “vandals in ermine” who have acted to please the Governmant because “they all come from the same class background”.

Ken is obviously smarting from the bitter attacks on him in the capitalist press. He says he has been accused of “everything from invading Poland to eating babies”. He could not possibly have invaded Poland, whatever the papers say, as he simply has not had time with all his London engagements. I never knew they accused him of eating babies.

He does not tell us whether he is innocent or guilty of this charge. Personally, I would not be surprised. Many people from his class background are as greedy and as lazy in their eating habits as they are in everything else they do.

February 1, 1982

Last year I wrote of my shock at discovering that Mr Patrick Serjeant, 56-year-old City Editor of the Daily Mail, was paid a mere £143,542 a year. It seemed almost obscene that an old man like that should be paid so much less than I am at half his age on the same newspaper.

Now I learn that they have paid attention to my criticism and have jacked up his fee by £112,104 to £255,646. I suppose a middle-class fellow of simple tastes can rub along on that.

October 13, 1983

At the Young Conservatives Ball in the Winter Gardens I find myself unexpectedly closeted with Margaret Thatcher, whom I have not seen since she came to a Private Eye lunch over ten years ago.

She obviously expects me to ask her to dance, but it would be as much as my reputation in Fleet Street is worth to be seen dancing with her so I make my excuses saying I have a particularly violent attack of AIDS. Also, I was rather hoping to find someone younger and juicer, although it may be rude to say so.

Instead I ask her why she has not yet adopted a sensible suggestion in George Gale’s Daily Express column – Pungent, Penetrating, Pissed – and sent Grocer Heath to be overlord of Ulster in place of James Prior. With a bit of luck, he might get blown up, I explain helpfully.

She replies that she has to wait until the Kincora Boys Home Scandal has been laid to rest before sending another bachelor to Ulster.

Great stuff; vitriol, venom and wit trenchantly delivered, splatting Left, Right and those in between. I wish he was with us today to provide a commentary. (Auberon Waugh died in 2001.)