Low life
Banged to rights
Jeffrey Bernard
Ihave just received a letter from a for- mer Coach and Horses customer, Patsy, Who is at present resting in what he calls the Ford Country Club by Arundel in West Sussex. It is, of course, one of Her Majesty's hotels, Ford Open Prison. Some time ago, I warned Patsy, when he said he was off to Reading, not to end up where Oscar Wilde went and he has remembered that well, for he quotes Wilde twice in his
letter, beginning it by saying, 'Anybody can be good in the country,' and ending by writing, 'We are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars.' Well, as far as H.M. hotels go, the branch at Ford doesn't sound too bad. In fact it doesn't sound much worse than the Coach and Horses. I, too, Patsy am banged up with the same people day in and day out and that is my punishment for having decided to stray from the straight and narrow many years ago. I am glad that you were able to get away for a couple of days racing at Glori- ous Goodwood, pleased that you backed Bonnie Scot and I hope that the lunch at the Avisford Park Hotel was up to scratch. I suppose some of you must have managed to go to Glyndbourne for a picnic and an aria or two as well. The sporting and cul- tural facilities here certainly can't match your own. Betting shops and television are a poor substitute for Mozart next a garden and the popping of champagne corks in the member's bar at Goodwood. All I wonder is how do you manage for drink and cigarettes? But I suppose you have that sewn up too. The screws where you are can't be worse than Norman, who still steadfastly refuses to serve a drink himself. Thank God for the Irish staff.
There was only one thing in your letter that depressed me a little and that was your remark, 'Crime in reality is a dull and tedious business.' What isn't? Blank sheets of typing paper don't exactly excite me. What they call 'job satisfaction' continues to elude me. And what work do they give you to do in Ford? Are you by any chance the man who puts the lumps into the por- ridge or are you lucky enough to do the odd job in the gardens of the club? And that reminds me. I did once have a job I quite liked many years ago when I worked as a gardner of sorts in Holland Park through a summer and the autumn. Mak- ing bonfires out of autumn leaves was pleasant enough and I met a few nannies wheeling their gurgling charges about in that park. That was easy since a gardener is regarded as harmless. Anyway, our editor will be delighted to know that you and your fellow lodgers get The Spectator and enjoy it. A pity poor Oscar couldn't. And I am To think I applied for this job because I wanted to meet people.' delighted to hear that some of your acquaintances there liked my column in the Sunday Mirror. A pity they didn't write to tell the editor, not that it would have made any difference.
Captains are obliged from time to time to make crew members walk the plank if for nothing else to show that they are in command. Would you believe that I am still awaiting payment for an article I wrote in April for another newspaper. Yes, April. Not that I should moan to a man in your hotel. But if I were just a shade more cyni- cal, I might advise you to stay put. At least your accommodation and food problems are taken care of and I can assure you that neither has the taste of alcohol improved in the last two years, nor has the ritual of sex. Not only is Goodwood adjacent but you also have Fontwell Park for the jumps in the winter.
Take some slight comfort in the fact that you are missing nothing of note. As leop- ards don't change their spots neither do pub bores. Sometimes, most afternoons, Norman gives me parole and I go to the Groucho Club. There are bores there, too, as there are in any place that dispenses booze. They are just richer there. What you will need when you terminate your stay in Ford are 'ex's. Even Norman's awful doorstep sandwiches are £2 each and I am sure you would rather choke on a truffle. Perhaps you could write a column with a facetious title such as Inside Out.
And now I am off to Dublin to record my hazy and vapid thoughts on that city which is a damn sight more simpatico than any- thing south of Hendon. Keep your spirits up and don't bother to escape into this.
Previous page
