amuse a group of fellow guests with an impertinent impersonation of our host when, quite suddenly, a heavy hand landed on my left shoulder. I spun round to find myself face to face with the great tycoon. I blanched. He looked stern, then he let out a loud, alarming, barking laugh, shook me by the shoulder and walked away. His children are devoted to him and I suppose he must have had real friends, although whenever we were at his house I found that fellow guests invariably spent much of their time talking about him in hushed undertones. At the last party we went to – for what seemed like 2,000 of his closer chums – I noticed he’d equipped himself with personal amplification. He was wearing a radio mike and there were speakers scattered about the house and the marquees, so, without having to raise his voice, the great man could address each and every one of us wherever we were. And now he’s gone.
Bizarre.
WEDNESDAY 6 NOVEMBER 1991
It may not be suicide. It could be an accident. Or murder. Was he an agent for Mossad? He was a monster. And a crook. I know: I sat in reception at Maxwell House for hours on end, saying ‘I’m not leaving without a cheque in my hand’ and meaning it – andgetting it – after months and months and months of waiting. 98 Maverick, money-maker, MP, rogue, he really
was
Augustus Melmotte in
The Way We Live Now
. I see the Prime Minister has picked the words of his tribute carefully: ‘A great character … I am sure he would not want us to grieve at his loss, but marvel at a quite extraordinary life lived to the full.’ Neil Kinnock is completely over the top: ‘This is truly tragic news.’ That he was ever taken seriously by the Labour Party is amazing. It was pitiful when Peter Jay allowed himself to become his poodle-cum-
chef-de-cabinet
. 99 I remember a lunch at Jeffrey [Archer]’s when Jay was summoned to the phone once, twice, three times, then hauled away altogether. It would be nothing, Jay acknowledged, but when the master flicked his fingers the little dog had to jump. I think it was Jeffrey who had just been at some sporting gathering in Scotland and witnessed Captain Bob put his bearlike arm around the Queen and keep it there. Not even Her Majesty was able to freeze him off. Well, he had
hutzpah
. And for the children it is a tragedy. I must write to Anne, but I’m not sure what to say.
WEDNESDAY 27 NOVEMBER 1991
Creditors force Asil Nadir into bankruptcy. The Maxwell empire is unravelling before our eyes. The recession is deepening and lengthening. And last night, at Buckingham Palace, we set about trying to raise a million pounds for NPFA! HRH and I addressed our potential donors from a little dais in the middle of the magnificent stateroom. I thought as I spoke, ‘Isn’t this extraordinary, me being here in Buckingham Palace, making a speech like this?’ I tried to be amusing. HRH did the business. He went for the jugular. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. The doors at either end of the gallery have been closed. Welcome to the shearing shed.’ Of course, we will only fleece them successfully if we follow through … We went on to the Caprice for supper with Colin and Rosie [Sanders] and he has delivered, bless him: £50,000
and
he paid for the birthday fireworks at the Windsor bash. A good man.
FRIDAY 13 DECEMBER 1991
Friday the thirteenth. I’m on the train to Chester, on my way to the St Theresa’s PTAKaraoke Night, preceded by a ‘two-hour in-depth’ interview with Chester Talking Newspaper. This morning I was on
Treasure Islands
on Radio 4 talking about children’s books and I started the day at TV-am talking about teddy bears. Last night, at the last minute, I found myself standing in for Jeffrey Archer and joining Tony Banks 100 on a programme called
Behind the Headlines
for BBC2. I have just this second opened the
Evening Standard
and read Mark Steyn’s review: ‘On the last two occasions I saw Brandreth on TV, he was, first, dressed as Rhett
Bizarre.
WEDNESDAY 6 NOVEMBER 1991
It may not be suicide. It could be an accident. Or murder. Was he an agent for Mossad? He was a monster. And a crook. I know: I sat in reception at Maxwell House for hours on end, saying ‘I’m not leaving without a cheque in my hand’ and meaning it – andgetting it – after months and months and months of waiting. 98 Maverick, money-maker, MP, rogue, he really
was
Augustus Melmotte in
The Way We Live Now
. I see the Prime Minister has picked the words of his tribute carefully: ‘A great character … I am sure he would not want us to grieve at his loss, but marvel at a quite extraordinary life lived to the full.’ Neil Kinnock is completely over the top: ‘This is truly tragic news.’ That he was ever taken seriously by the Labour Party is amazing. It was pitiful when Peter Jay allowed himself to become his poodle-cum-
chef-de-cabinet
. 99 I remember a lunch at Jeffrey [Archer]’s when Jay was summoned to the phone once, twice, three times, then hauled away altogether. It would be nothing, Jay acknowledged, but when the master flicked his fingers the little dog had to jump. I think it was Jeffrey who had just been at some sporting gathering in Scotland and witnessed Captain Bob put his bearlike arm around the Queen and keep it there. Not even Her Majesty was able to freeze him off. Well, he had
hutzpah
. And for the children it is a tragedy. I must write to Anne, but I’m not sure what to say.
WEDNESDAY 27 NOVEMBER 1991
Creditors force Asil Nadir into bankruptcy. The Maxwell empire is unravelling before our eyes. The recession is deepening and lengthening. And last night, at Buckingham Palace, we set about trying to raise a million pounds for NPFA! HRH and I addressed our potential donors from a little dais in the middle of the magnificent stateroom. I thought as I spoke, ‘Isn’t this extraordinary, me being here in Buckingham Palace, making a speech like this?’ I tried to be amusing. HRH did the business. He went for the jugular. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. The doors at either end of the gallery have been closed. Welcome to the shearing shed.’ Of course, we will only fleece them successfully if we follow through … We went on to the Caprice for supper with Colin and Rosie [Sanders] and he has delivered, bless him: £50,000
and
he paid for the birthday fireworks at the Windsor bash. A good man.
FRIDAY 13 DECEMBER 1991
Friday the thirteenth. I’m on the train to Chester, on my way to the St Theresa’s PTAKaraoke Night, preceded by a ‘two-hour in-depth’ interview with Chester Talking Newspaper. This morning I was on
Treasure Islands
on Radio 4 talking about children’s books and I started the day at TV-am talking about teddy bears. Last night, at the last minute, I found myself standing in for Jeffrey Archer and joining Tony Banks 100 on a programme called
Behind the Headlines
for BBC2. I have just this second opened the
Evening Standard
and read Mark Steyn’s review: ‘On the last two occasions I saw Brandreth on TV, he was, first, dressed as Rhett
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