Low life
Right or wrong?
Jeffrey Bernard
Dear Laura, A word in your ear, so to speak, if I may, about your search for Lord Right or even the Duke of Right. For starters I can tell you that you won't find him in Italy where I gather you're off to for three weeks holiday. Furthermore I'm told you have an escort described to me as 'nice' and 'good'. It just won't do, you know. There's plenty of time for good men later. At 19 you should be studying not-so-good men and you must surely have been told by now that you have to kiss an awful lot of Lord Wrongs before you find Lord Right. In my own experience and grisly past I have always found that Miss Right has been mar- ried to Mister Right so although I wish you luck be prepared for disappointments for the next 10 or 15 years. Incidentally, I know this may sound a mite cynical but I've found that a lot of people others call good are often good because they're frightened. And another thing, why does he have to be a lord or duke? They dish out titles to ac-
tors, you know, and surely that devalues them.
Well, let's think about finding this Right for you. What should he actually do? I think we can safely rule out all actors, even the untitled ones. What about a writer? No, you're quite right, they are a bunch of egomaniacs, as are journalists, although most journalists do have the added spices of sloth and greed. If I was a pretty girl — I wish to God I was — I think I'd like a man who'd knocked about a bit. Not shop soiled or a milkman, you understand, but certain- ly a man well travelled who'd been from rhapsody to despair and back and understood why the journey had been reallY necessary. Perhaps a doctor in the house might be useful to you but sadly they know little of life, jumping as they do from seven years in school right to a bedside. AnywaY, they tend to drink and what we don't want is for you to end up hitched to a boozer. Unfortunately this wipes out one hell of a lot of men who go by the name of Right. But luckily you'd be excused just about 99 per cent of those sitting in the House of Commons. Oh, and Lords as well. It also means it would be pretty pointless for me to ask you to next year's Spectator party in the hope of meeting anyone worthy of your fair hand. Among other people who tipple till they topple are racehorse trainers, which is a pity since it's become as fashionable a profession as was a fashion photographer ill the Sixties. Yes, earmark 'photographer'• Now they do earn a crust.
But we still come back to the old pro- blem, don't we? I'm convinced that Wrong is the right man for you. Just imagine the enchantment of being with a man who behaves like a cad, rotter, hound, rogue and scallywag every day who wants and ex- pects you to forgive him and pat him on the head for his efforts. With a few years of that behind you you could become another Margaret Drabble or Beryl Bainbridge. You'd also be in the comfortable geographical position of having hilll beneath your thumb. I have a hunch that you'll play safe though and end up with a bank manager. Merchant, of course. No reflection on your background, Laura. You've obviously been very well brought up. Mind you, that doesn't mean much. I was. Yes, I should think you'd have to be pretty steady to become a bank manager — if steadiness is a quality you want in a man — so why not nibble at a clerk to get some idea of the taste of the main course? The other man I thought of is the self-made millionaire. They mostly have experienced insolvency jil the past and, speaking as a self-made bankrupt, I can tell you being skint is or was an invaluable experience. Now, try t° be good in Italy and try to be just a teencY weency bit bad when you get back here. The water's really very warm you know. Jula in.
Yours, Jeff.
PS. What the hell is Lord Right going to get from you?
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