We could do with a bit of cheering up in London right now. So with great pleasure I leave you before the start of the weekend with a paragraph from Andrew Marr’s book on the history of British journalism, which I have only just started, but that has had me in fits of laughter already:
"At the opening of the eighties, there was the beginning of a rush to the City but journalism was the favoured option of would-be intellectuals too dim or greedy to stay in academia. One of the early stars of my time returned a year after leaving to interview me about a rebellion then going on in the Cambridge English faculty, and which Panorama, to which he was ‘attached’, thought might be interesting for a short film. He arrived at the pub we had arranged to meet in wearing a trench coat. If he didn’t actually have a trilby with a paste card reading ‘press’ stuck in one side of it, the effect was the same. We’d known each other slightly – well enough to be on Christian-name terms. ‘Robert Harris – BBC – Panorama,’ he said, holding out his hand without a flicker of a smile. ‘Hi, Robert,’ I replied. I thought he was a complete prick. Then I thought, almost instantaneously, and that’s exactly the kind of complete prick I want to be, too." – Andrew Marr, My Trade
