Tuesday Diary: The Evil Grape & Memories of Denis Thatcher
Jerry Hayes says there's nothing wrong with the odd champers. Well, the odd bottle of champers.
10 Jan 2012, 08:30
Jim Broadbent as Denis Thatcher
* I am at a bit of a loss over all the criticism of Jim Broadbent’s portrayal of Denis Thatcher. My memories of him are that he loved to play up to the old buffer caricature. He once came to speak at a constituency do for me in Harlow and was a bit late. Immediately a bucket of Gin and tonic was thrust into his hand and he mounted the stairs to make a brief announcement. “I say, any of you chaps own a garage? Just given my Special Branch boys the slip and I’ve pranged the Cortina on a brick wall on the way in.” At that, one of the local newspaper photographers flashed a photo. To which Denis, oozing charm and bon homie, went up to the lad and said. “Do you mind not using that snap old boy? I’m chairman of a couple of Rugby clubs and the chaps might be a little upset if they saw me with a large drink in my hand.” To my amazement the shot of the old boy quaffing a gargantuan G and T never appeared, as the lad had clearly bought the rather dubious excuse from the rascal. Another time I was on the line up at Number 10. Unfortunately, Margaret Thatcher had a rather annoying habit of shaking everybody’s hand before they were served a drink, which took an eternity for us thirsty folk and was a bit daft as we all knew her very well. If she liked you, there was the famous Thatcher grip (used expertly at Brehznev’s funeral when she seemed never to let go and stayed in shot longer than any other world leader) but if she didn’t, there was a quick flick of the wrist and a tap of the foot and off you went. Well, on this occasion (I had been refreshed in Annie’s Bar beforehand) I lost my balance a landed at the feet of Denis. He smiled. Helped me up and said, “Looks like you’re in the old girl’s bad books. Best get that drink.” What a great man. How we miss him.
* I read yet more bollocksy advice about what we should drink and when. Despite the fact that so called health experts now admit that the number of units that prevent our livers from turning into small pickled prunes was plucked from the air and quite meaningless. Now we are told that we must have two or three alcohol free days a week. Willie Whitelaw must be turning in his grave. After his first heart attack his doctors warned him to have only one champagne before lunch, advice which he followed diligently. One bottle of champers, one of white and one of red, washed down with a couple of brandies. And then there was dinner…….
* Years ago my old dad gave me a splendid book for Christmas entitled, Wine is the Medicine, by a Dr. Maury. This wonderful book prescribed certain wines for certain conditions. Heavy Burgundies for constipation, dry whites for gout. But my favourite was the dosage for old age. Half a bottle of champagne before every meal. “It won’t do you any good and you probably won’t remember drinking it, but you will feel a lot better.” Very sound advice indeed. I gave up drinking once. It was the longest twenty minutes of my life.
* A mate of mine at the Bar told me the wonderful story of an armed robbery he recently prosecuted. Despite warnings from the judge, the jury, in confinement, decided to re enact the crime. They tied each other up, wacked each other over the head and, very foolishly using one of the exhibits, hand cuffed a fellow juror. After an hour a note came back that the key had been lost. The fire brigade had to be called to cut the things off the silly sod.
* What will intrigue Westminster when it returns to day is who is the Cabinet minister who wears the New and Lingwood skull and cross bones dressing gown. This story first appeared in the splendid Londoner’s Diary in the Evening Standard. They muse that it could be an old Etonian or a former member of the Bullington Club. I reckon it belongs to the cerebral but delightfully unworldly Oliver Letwin. After all he is very sensibly kept out of the public eye and locked in a darkened room in the Cabinet Office; thinking. Well, someone has to.
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Jerry Hayes
Jerry Hayes is a former Conservative MP and leading barrister defending and prosecuting high profile cases
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My favourite cartoon is in the loo of the excellent Rendezvous, by the gates to Charterhouse Square.
10/01/2012 09:14The drunken jester from the Wizard of Id is seeing the doctor.
"I'm so depressed: I've given up drinking and I still feel terrible."
"When did you give up?"
"What time is it now?"
Well written witty entertainment BUT revealing a complete ignorance of addiction and alcoholism which is astounding for one who has been a Tory MP and a Criminal Barrister.
Either Whitelaw, Thatcher(wife and husband), Churchill, etc.,etc., were functioning alcoholics or were not alcoholics.
The point being that alcoholism is a progressive condition; it always gets worse. some people drink for all their lives without becoming incapacitated by it; some people are incapticipated. Not everyone who drinks habitually is an alcoholic (can't live with it but can't go without it).
Leaving off drinking for two days a week will help to identify those who cannot live without daily drinking sooner than if they don't even attempt avoiding alcohol.
This is explained in the 1939 book Alcoholics Anonymous where they report their own experiences of staying 'on the wagon' (I think they use some Eastern USA vernacular of their time for that). At one point they suggest trying as an experiment, simply to stop drinking. If one is not an alcoholic one will be able to stop without merely missing it but, if one is an alcoholic one will crave it. I think there is research somewhere that says habits are cultivated by daily actions over about three weeks.
So what are you Jerry, a functioning alcoholic or someone who can take daily alcohol and only suffer physical damage?
Incidentally alcohol consumption is (I suspect) believed a possible risk factor for dementia that most confusing condition that is very relevant as so many of us, thanks to the NHS, (which the Tories opposed on inception) now live beyond eighty. It seems as if those of us who make it to eighty have a one in four chance of developing dementia to the point where we cannot control our own lives, whether we have been a Prime Minister or a work shy dole scrounger.
My mother in law died at 89, in the last year, with dementia. For the last ten years of her life she was not able to take and see through any decision due to dementia yet she was virtually teetotal. (Her late and dominant husband signed the plege as a child as a response to alcolholism in his family of origin). I have the impression Margaret Thatcher, also has dementia yet I think was far from teetotal - so some more dementia research is still URGENTLY needed (hopefully our Government will fund it with our money)
10/01/2012 09:55Very funny, especially with the added bonus of the spoof comment.
Is "Andrew Hatton" a clever anagram I haven't worked out yet?
10/01/2012 15:35"thanks to the NHS, (which the Tories opposed on inception) now live beyond eighty"
Bzzt. Developed countries have all seen improved healthcare and life expectancy, only the UK did so with the NHS's involvement. You also have no basis for implying the alternatives would have produced worse results - indeed, comparisons with other countries quite strongly suggest the opposite.
"hopefully our Government will fund it with our money"
You're welcome to hand it over without the intermediary, you know...
18/01/2012 12:18