Low life
Up hill, down dale
Jeffrey Bernard
It is difficult to concentrate with the sword of Damocles — once sheathed in West End Central police station — hanging over me, but I am aware of the fact that I have a cold, cough, sore throat and headache and that it is a grey day outside. In spite of that I can't help wondering whether watching the Arc de Triomphe on Sunday at Longchamp while on bail will constitute high life or low life. I am being hounded by horses. If New Scotland Yard had any sense of theatre they would have had me arrested by mounted policemen. Yes, one minute it's Paris and the next minute it's the courtroom and something happens almost every day to remind me of that good old Arab proverb, 'Life is like a banana. One minute it is in your hand and the next minute it is up your arse.' This morning I dropped a soft-boiled egg on the floor but tonight Taki is taking me out on the town, an exercise I shall have to train for by sleeping all afternoon. The stamina's gone, you see. And then, between that and Paris there is the party in Brighton to celebrate 25 years of Private Eye and the retirement of Richard Ingrains. So it's all go. The constant demands that are made on my metabolism, pocket, solicitor and liver are very exhausting.
But the really bad news this week concerns not the CID, horses or the results of liver function tests but the dreaded Dale Spender, the woman who would have me barred for my language. I was told the other day, on good authority, that she once actually told her female students that they `should be rude to a man or men three times a day'. It staggers me. In fact I have not been so staggered since I last wore 8oz gloves. I hadn't realised that we had actually had war declared on us, I thought there was just a bit of banter in the wind. But no, we shall have to take up arms. No longer will I drape my extremely expensive Crombie overcoat over puddles for women to step on and no longer will I allow them to drown in my eyes. If they want to play rough we'll see who can be ruder. And all the time I thought they were friends. I must have been running in blinkers. The next time a woman smiles at me — and one did yesterday — I shall not let it go to my head but merely remind myself that we once played football with the Germans in no-man's land on Christmas Day.
And now here's a funny thing. Just two minutes ago the postman brought me a letter from Ohio written by a man who reads this journal and who works in a liquor store in a town called Hiram. He says that if I am ever in the Cleveland area he will give me the pick of the litter from the store on condition I go to an AA meeting with him. That's really not much of a carrot to dangle in front of a man but it's good to know that someone in Hiram, Ohio, subscribes to the Spectator. But having been once forced to attend AA meetings when I was in the bin 15 years ago I can tell you, Mr Killey — for that is he that wild horses couldn't drag me to one of those evangelical, smug, told-you-so, wasn't-I-awful gatherings again. And the AA handout is perfectly dreadful that you sent me. Alcohol has not got me 'licked'. Women had me 'licked' once but not since I met Dale Spender. She constitutes a meeting of Womanisers Anonymous all by herself. Try substituting the word 'women' for the word 'drinking' in the AA question- naire. Are women affecting your peace of mind? Are women making your home life unhappy? Do you show marked moodiness since women? Are women disturbing the harmony of your life? Have women changed your personality? Do you crave a woman at a definite time daily? Do you require a woman the next morning? Do you prefer a woman alone? Have women made you irritable? Yes, yes, yes, and again yes. And as for asking me have I ever felt remorse after drinking, Mr Killey, I have been living with remorse for years now. She wakes me up every morning. She puts me to bed at night and yea though I run through the valley of Oxford Street to the Coach and Horses she is by my side. Now why don't you and the girl you don't want to wake up by using a typewriter (yes, you do scrawl) come over here for a holiday and we can rescue you from your wagon. We put our wagons in a circle once but the Indians still won. Thank God.
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