NOT BLOODY LIKELY!
ANOTHER HEADLINE TO WHICH THE ANSWER IS NO:
From yesterday’s Mail On Sunday, natch!
Trumps’ s sleaze box
Do we mean squeeze box? — Ed No — The Subs
Liddle used to get drunk and make shit up say Sunday Times subs
A SLEW of obituaries for Rod Liddle came out over the past week or so, most — with some notable exceptions — written up glowingly by his friends. It’s always tempting after someone dies to present the best, most sanitised version of the person they were while they were here.
The Drone does not feel constrained in this matter. All the news that’s not fit to print is our motto.
Behind the scenes, reports Popbitch, some of his other colleagues have been in touch with memories that didn’t make the obits. Rod had a thorny relationship with the Sunday Times, where his penchant for sock puppet accounts (using a false identity online — see story below) wasn’t the only issue.
Subs were warned to check everything he submitted with a fine tooth comb because Liddle had a habit of filing under the influence and getting liberal with the facts.
Or, in their words: “He just gets drunk and makes shit up.”
As a result every scoreline and piece of trivia mentioned had to be double and then triple-checked before publication. And almost every single one was confidently wrong.
In other words, he didn’t exactly endear himself to the rest of the staff (most of the video team found that it was impossible to find a single editor or producer willing to work with him). But Rod did always capitulate to the editor, to whom he always gave in when he was told what he wanted to write was actionable - or too racist, homophobic, or misogynistic.
There’s nothing journalists like to write about more than other journalists, so the death of a divisive columnist like Rod Liddle has been a content godsend for both the pro and anti sides, writes Popbitch.
It would be much too tiresome and far beneath us to take a side in these culture wars, naturally, so instead here’s a newspaper legend that was recounted to us from Liddle’s heyday:
Back when Alexander Lebedev bought the Independent for a quid in 2010, it was widely reported that Liddle was on course to be his preferred choice of editor.
Rod supposedly met with Lebedev, and laid out his demands — absolute journalistic freedom and final sign-off on all editorial decisions. Lebedev obliged, until Rod came back the next day with his proposed first front page headline: “Putin is a poof”.
The job was quickly given to existing editor Simon Kelner.
🔴Rod Liddle created a fake Sunday Times reader account to secretly defend himself in the comments under his articles. Editors at The Times intervened and politely asked him to stop.
PUTIN IS A POOF!
Headline that cost Rod Liddle
editorship of the Independent
DRONE EXCLUSIVE
Reach want to sell the Daily Express say heroic staff who struggle to get the paper out
By MONTY MOLE, Our Man Under the Desk
THE APPALLING stress undergone by the staff who continue to produce the Express, Mirror and Star titles has today been laid bare.
An Express insider at the Canary Wharf headquarters of Reach said it was rumoured that bosses wanted to sell the Express.
He told the Daily Drone in an exclusive interview: "The Daily Express has been produced on a shoestring since the former editor Gary Jones left in disgust.
“Journalists are now forced to share content with the Mirror because there are too few production staff to produce an entire Daily or Sunday Express.
"Morale is good among those few who remain, but there's almost nobody left. The Express's online traffic has slumped but still they've cut the editorial budgets by half. Amazingly there is a core of loyal readers who are prepared to pay the continuing huge increases in cover price — but the management are stretching their patience and loyalty to breaking point and seem to be going out of their way to kill the print product.
"What they should do is separate the national and regional papers, but they've all ben lumped together even though they're serving different markets — they don't seem to understand that.
"Everyone left here is bracing themselves for another autumn of cuts and another round of redundancies, although there's hardly anybody left. This summer we are so understaffed it looks like there are about six people getting the paper out.
"It was a great newspaper and the content is still good, but there's no money to buy anything. There are rumours swirling around the PR world that Reach would like someone to buy the newspaper — and obviously there are takers out there — though we wouldn't want the likes of David Montgomery. This is not how journalism works."
NEW TODAY
Thousands of civil servants at the Department for Work and Pensions, which is responsible for government employment policies, are not required to, er, go into work. Some 2,413 of its staff members have agreements allowing them permanently to work from home. Across eight government departments that provided full responses to freedom of information requests to The Times, 3,884 officials enjoy similar deals, including 688 at the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs and 492 at the Department for Education. In some cases, civil servants had not attended the office in more than two years. It’s the same in local government. Some councils are offering similar, permanent, WFH deals. Alex Burghart, shadow Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, said: ‘Flexible working is one thing, but with thousands of staff never turning up at the office, taxpayers have a right to ask if they’re getting value for money.’ The government said: ‘This represents a tiny fraction of staff.’
And over at HMRC’s flagship Whitehall headquarters at 100 Parliament Street, it’s barely a fifth full on working Fridays. This is despite an insistence that staff spend at least 60% of their time in the office. A Freedom of Information probe by Guido Fawkes reveals that between April 2025 and March 2026 Friday attendance was around 43% below the Monday to Thursday average. HMRC switched its capacity from 516 desks to 391 in 2025. Fridays got even emptier afterwards. At the reduced 391 capacity, Monday to Thursday attendance averaged 89% compared with 50% on Friday. HMRC insists it expects all office-based staff to spend at least 60% of their working time in the office. Hybrid working helps it attract and retain talent.
No wonder Kemi Badenoch thinks the council housing system needs reform. Southwark has 18,000 on its waiting list but someone called Fatima Bio is sitting pretty in her council accommodation. She should be. She’s the wife of an African President. As Ameer Kotecha says in The Spectator, anyone would think her excellency would have ‘quite enough moolah’ to buy her own place in the UK. Yet between 2007 and 2025, when the press got wind of it, she rented a council flat. Even then, it took the council’s crack investigators another 12 months to determine that she was indeed the First Lady of Sierra Leone. Doh.
So there you are on the beach at Loon-Plage waiting for the next super-duper, multi-occupancy ‘small boat’ to sail on the White Cliffs Tour. What to do to pass the time? Enter Laurence Quetel, 67, and her dungaree-clad troupe of clowns who put on a show. The Dutch former manager for the electrical conglomerate Phillips took off her red nose to explain that she began performing for migrants under the stage name Clown Holalal after the exodus of Syrian refugees during the civil war in 2016. It has to be said, her clowns’ antics barely elicited a smile from the migrants. Meanwhile, a sinister sub-plot was being enacted just yards away: smuggling gang leaders plotting their next Channel crossings.
Even our hard-bitten chief sub, LP Brevmin, shed a surreptitious tear at the news that millions of young people in China are heartbroken after the government effectively banned AI companion apps. New rules, which have seen AI boyfriends and girlfriends ‘deleted’, prohibit tools that ‘induce emotional dependence’ or ‘damage users’ real-world interpersonal relationships’. AI providers must now give regular reminders that their bots are not real people, offer instant-exit options and limit long-term emotional memory. But one lovelorn user sobs: ‘I can’t accept that my AI lover will leave me for ever. He has become a bond in my life, rooted deep in my heart.’
Amateur runner Stephen Biebelhausen notched an impressive time of 4 mins 17 secs to win the Guardian Mile in Cleveland, Ohio. Especially as he was pushing a buggy containing his one-year-old daughter, Blake, at the time. Stephen, 30, beat the previous record by nine seconds and claimed a Guinness World Record for the feat. He says: ‘We run together three to four times a week. She absolutely loves it and will kick her legs, put her arms up and squeal with joy.’
A woman who spent 10 years as a cleaner in the hospital where she was born is working there again…as a newly-qualified doctor. Shay Taylor-Allen, 32, has taken up a residency at Yale New Haven Hospital in Connecticut. She recalls studying in her breaks before she was admitted to university in Washington DC. ‘I’m coming back a different person,’ Shay says. Now she and her new husband, Rob, a former serviceman, have got to tackle the job of paying off her student debt.
Bushwhacking is an honoured American tradition but not usually as far east as New Jersey. (You ever watched The Sopranos? — Ed). A policeman disguised himself as a bush and stood among trees at the roadside as part of a crackdown on drivers using their phone at the wheel. The camouflaged cop caught a whopping 74 texting drivers in just six hours. A triumphalist police department later crowed on Facebook: ‘Did you spot our “shrub” today? If you had your head buried in your phone, probably not!’
The South London Press owed its staff nearly £100,000 when it went out of business last year, official documents reveal. Liquidators were appointed after the 160-year-old title suddenly closed in May, 2025. The paper historically covered Lewisham, Southwark, Lambeth and Wandsworth, but its coverage area expanded in its later years as it sought more advertising. The Mercury, the local paper for Greenwich, merged into the SLP in 2019. Six staff were owed £99,587 and the company’s directors a further £160,000.
The pandemic habit of eating in rather than eating out has firmly stuck, says The Economist. In the States last year, almost three of every four restaurant meals were consumed off-site. This year, the global online food-delivery market is projected to reach an astonishing $473 billion, roughly twice its pre-pandemic size. Visits to restaurants remain 15% below pre-Covid levels.
Still miss browsing at your local Blockbuster, plucking some loved but half-forgotten film from the shelves and rushing home? Well, here’s Bingebuster. It’s a website designed to look like the old video rental shop, allowing you to view the catalogues of Netflix, Prime Video, Disney+ and so on in one place. All the usual categories are there – new releases, sci-fi, rom coms – and once you’ve chosen what you want to watch, the site will send you over to whichever platform the TV show or film is on. Next…Bingobuster! (Have a care —Ed).
GlobalWarmingHotline: There, I told you some good will come of climate change. Sea ice now melts far enough south to make the Arctic a viable alternative to the world’s traditional shipping routes, says Alice Hancock in the FT. Ships can pass through without needing icebreaker capabilities. This makes it an attractive way to avoid maritime chokepoints and cut journey times. A Chinese company is starting a weekly service that will use the route to sail to Felixstowe, slashing the usual 40 days by about half.
TaffAtTheTop: More suggestions for Welsh film titles inspired by correspondence in The Times. Sci fi: Dai of the Triffids; Biblical: The Tenby Commandments; espionage: The Idris File; rom com: When Barry Met Pwllheli; war: The Coalpits Story; The Bridgend Too Far.
ClickbaitCrap: The Sun and the Express, both of which should be ashamed, post a flash that National Treasure Prue Leith has been ‘rushed to hospital in a blue-light ambulance amid fears she was having a stroke.’ How did their razor-sharp news rooms get on to this so quickly? Some hack probably read Prue’s column in the September issue of The Oldie out now. The 86-year-old Bake Off host writes of the drama which happened, she says, ‘a few weeks ago’ (so much for ‘news’). Although she did show symptoms of a stroke, it was, in fact, a migraine attack which she has had before.
AIThatsYerBot: Another South Korean tech powerhouse is, like its rival, Samsung, cashing in on the AI boom. While not as much of a household name, SK Hynix also makes high-bandwidth memory chips, controlling roughly 32% of the dynamic random access memory (DRAM) market. Shares have popped 799% in the last year. That has put SK Hynix well on its way to becoming the second company in South Korea to hit a $1 trillion valuation this year.
TheThingsTheySay: ‘Stuart Broad reckons the eclipse has been delayed until ten to nine.’ — cricket commentator Simon Doull, at The Hundred on Wednesday, baffles astrophysicists everywhere. Fact: There will be another solar eclipse in 2050.
HeadlineOfTheWeek: Colander Sales Surge - The Telegraph succumbs to Eclipse Fever.
FringeBenefit(OrNot): I dated a magician. I was seeing him, now I don’t. - Jenny Gorelick at the Edinburgh Fringe.
The Infernal Intern
By HEIDI HIGHGATE
And now we come to ‘dating’. (Are we still calling it that? Sounds so Fifties, not that I’d know). Apparently, we are the generation taking a pragmatic approach to marriage and divorce. We prize financial stability and long-term compatibility over impulsive romance, research shows. Can this be so? I recall fondly being mutually impulsive with Gary Beddelow behind the bike shed after the sixth form disco. But it is true that my contemporaries are dating significantly less due to ‘dating fatigue’ and the high cost of drinking and eating out. Some boring nerds I know are even organising their dates with green flags, and red flags on digital spreadsheets to maximise ‘efficiency’. My simple advice: if it itches, scratch it.
Serves those skinny, tiny tits wonders right. Women cyclists, who appear to have been faking a larger bra size to gain an aerodynamic edge over their rivals in the Tour de France Femmes, have been exposed (Not that you’d notice). Officials carried out pre-race kit checks after several teams raised concerns that riders were padding their bras to improve the airflow around their bodies, a practice known as ‘chest fairing’.
Between you and me, the Drone isn’t particularly tech savvy. Some rheumy-eyed hacks still use stubby Black Prince pencils to ‘sub’ copy and grunts like me have to input it into ‘the system’. No wonder people of my age are said to be increasingly seeking refuge from deepening digital fatigue. ‘Analog Islands’ are the answer. That’s embracing vintage technology like MiniDiscs, vinyl, and analog cameras. Weirdly, folk music is making a comeback, too. My ripe, bearded, straggly-haired retro snout confides: ‘Traditional music festivals, such as Scotland's Belladrum, are seeing a massive surge in Gen Z attendees trading heavy electronic music for folk and acoustic storytelling.’ Hold me back!
Wow! The great Anti-AI Backlash is growing apace. Graduates like me are running up huge student debt and emerging on to the jobs market to discover that…there are no jobs. First entry employment is increasingly being taken by bloody bots. I’ve even heard of graduation ceremonies where any mention of AI has been greeted by noisy, angry booing. No wonder more young people are opting for trade jobs, such as plumbing, electrical work, and carpentry, to secure steady, AI-proof careers. Incidentally, traditional ‘one side of A4’ text-based CVs are old hat. Employers increasingly request short video submissions from Gen Z applicants during the hiring process.
Minor health scare, chez Highgate: grandad unwell. Granny sets off for the chemist and meets an acquaintance who asks why she is in such a hurry. ‘I’m going to get some medicine,’ she says, ‘I don’t like the look of my husband.’ ‘I’ll join you,’ replies the other woman, ‘I can’t stand the sight of mine.’
TheRestIsNibstory. 1789. Revolting frogs are revolting (When are they not? — Ed). Hungry common people without trousers kick louche, uncaring toffs into touch. Or under very sharp knife called guillotine watched by old crones knitting liberty caps. Wicked queen says: ‘Laisse-les manger du gâteau‘. Revolutionaries shout back: ‘Liberté, égalité, fraternité and it all gets acutely messy, not to say grave (SWIJDT?). Dickens, it was the worst of times — official.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
ONLY IN THE DRONE
Our great columnists
DISPATCHES FROM
THE FRONT
By RICHARD DISMORE
OFF THE SPIKE
WITH TEL
RANDOM JOTTINGS
By ALAN FRAME
STAND AND DELIVER
By Hermione Orliff
NEW
Labour’s decision to remove the exemption of VAT from fees has forced 30,000 pupils out of private schools. But, rest assured, they do not include the three children of new Energy Secretary Miatta Fahnbulleh. They continue to be educated privately. Peckham MP Ms Fahnbulleh, 46, a rising star on the party’s Left, has been accused of ‘classic champagne socialism’, says the Mail on Sunday. She declined to give details of the fees she pays but it is estimated that Ms Fahnbulleh, whose husband is a successful City trader and hedge-fund founder, must spend at least £50,000 a year. She knows the value of a good school: hers was Beechwood Sacred Heart in Tunbridge Wells, where boarders pay £45,000 annually.
Further evidence, not that it’s needed, that the world is plunging pell-mell into madness. The SNP has spent £227,386 of Scottish taxpayers’ money on a ‘conversion therapy’ helpline. Trouble is, it received only four calls in three months. And no one can say whether or not the caller was the same person. The helpline was run by the charity LGBT Health and Wellbeing which has form. It has been criticised for running a ‘Queer Milk’ group that helps men who identify as women to breastfeed babies. Christian Institute, which obtained the figures under Freedom of Information laws, says: ‘These figures expose an extraordinary misuse of public money.’
Who wants to be a millionaire? Not when Jeremy Clarkson skewers you for cash at a charity auction. According to the Mail, he swung into action when the total at a recent event with his fellow prostate cancer sufferer Chris Hoy stalled at £850,000, short of the cyclist’s £1 million target. Clarkson stood up and said: ‘Everyone here who has got a helicopter, I want ten grand.’ And he meant it. Clarkson walked around the room pointing at anyone who owned a chopper, saying ‘ten grand from you, ten grand from you’. They reached a million mark in no time.
Zany comic Jimmy Cricket, who has died at 80, was wisecracking till the end. ‘Don’t worry if you can’t spell Armageddon,’ he told hospital staff, ‘it’s not the end of the world.’ Jimmy, real surname Mulgrew, was known as a downtrodden simpleton who had wellies with L and R painted on them – but worn on the wrong feet – and a hat that looked like an upside-down chamber pot. He left school at 16 and a teacher said of him: ‘If ignorance is bliss, he’s one of the happiest boys around.’ Jimmy became well known after appearing in a TV talent contest. He went on to have his own ITV show. He was remarkable in that his humour was squeaky clean. Each one-liner was followed by his catchphrase: ‘And there’s more!’ Sadly, now there isn’t.
Two ne’er-do-wells with not much up top tried to pretend they were from Liverpool as they held up their local convenience store in Derbyshire. Stephen Bradley and David Oakley adopted atrocious Scouse accents and made less-than-subtle references to their supposed home town during the heist. Such as ‘we’ve got to get back to Liverpool’ and ‘hurry up so we can get on the motorway to Liverpool’. They were both jailed for four years. Divvies.
No one sends postcards any more but when they did, the light-hearted holiday mementos became vital to Britain’s war effort, says The Economist. In 1942, Britain’s naval intelligence chief took to the BBC to issue a public plea. Your photos and postcards from trips to France might look like holiday frivolity, he said, but ‘experts may see a lot more’. He expected to receive 10,000 or so. Instead, it was 10 million and British intelligence immediately began sorting them into categories including ‘Omaha’, ‘Sword’ and ‘Juno’. The preparations for D-Day had begun.
Some dumbo, who spent £550 on a massive tattoo prematurely declaring England as World Cup 2026 winners, has had to go back for the tattoo parlour equivalent of a rejig on the third. Fair play to roofer Sean Carrington from Wigan: he got them to add two words: ‘Just Joking!’
Even I don’t remember Smell-O-Vision, the brief and disastrous cinema experiment in 1960. The first film, made in 59, to introduce smell into the action was a stinker (SWIJDT?). Scent of Mystery had a poster which boasted: ‘First (1893): They Moved; then (1927) They Talked; now (1959). They Smell.’ Thirty different odours were released into theatres but not always at the correct times. It just did not match the considerable hype and the idea was ditched after one film. And don’t get me started on its rival, AromaRama.
A restaurant in Florida is offering a weekly nude fine dining experience. The CLASS Soirée Steakhouse entertains up to 20 people once a month for a multi-course feast. Tickets cost $150 for women, $250 for men (an ogle tax, say regulars), and $300 for couples. The price includes the meal, as well as a silk bathrobe, lap towel, and custom leather seat cushion. Owner Maurad Ali insists that chefs and waiters remain fully clothed.
Yoko Morishita, take a bow. She’s the star of Japan’s acclaimed Matsuyama Ballet Company. At the age of 77. The prima ballerina performed with Soviet icon Rudolf Nureyev 200 times and toured with Margot Fonteyn. She’s easily the oldest dancer still taking on demanding rôles in ballets such as Swan Lake. Today she’s rehearsing to dance as Clara in The Nutcracker which she has performed for 45 years. Her secret? Don’t overthink it. She says: ‘Once today is over, I think about tomorrow’s lesson. Before I knew it, 75 years had passed.’
Following our recent snippet about adapting films and TV shows for the Welsh market, a reader suggests: what about Last Tango in Powys?
The Haitches’ lament about pollution in the ‘sylvan Wye’ is followed by an admission of a general decline in the ecological condition of Britain’s waterways. The first assessment by the Environment Agency since 2019 has revealed that only 14% are rated as being in good condition, a two percentage point decline. It means the Government is almost certain to miss its target of bringing just over three quarters of rivers up to good condition by the end of next year. James Wallace, chief exec of campaign group River Action, said: ‘Despite successive governments’ promises, nothing has changed.’
Nearly half a million dollars has been raised for charity in the annual Chicago Ducky Derby. A deluge of 90,000 sponsored rubber ducks poured into the Chicago River and floated for 15 minutes before the winner was declared. Thousands lined the banks for the race, a fundraiser in aid of Special Olympics Illinois for people with disabilities and special needs.
AIThatsYerBot: Guess what has driven up the shares of South Korean electronics giant Samsung by 394% over the past 12 months and pushed the company to a $1 trillion market valuation. It’s thanks to its control over about 36% of the global market for dynamic random access memory (DRAM) chips needed to power AI products. Demand is outpacing production and there has been a huge surge in orders for the Samsung chips. Result: Last quarter its sales climbed 70% YoY; profit soared 750%.
NMPKT: Polar bears have black skin to absorb warmth from the sun better. But their transparent, hollow hairs scatter and reflect light so that they appear white.
FringeBenefit(OrNot): ‘I got fired from Madame Tussauds for giving suntans to Jim Morrison and his bandmates. They told me to get out and never darken their doors again.’ — Olaf Falafel at the Edinburgh Fringe.
It’sOnlyMoney: Ever wondered how important wellbeing and inclusion are for collecting vehicle excise duty and maintaining driving records, asks the Taxpayers’ Alliance. Apparently, it’s very important to the DVLA which is hiring two ‘Wellbeing, Attendance & Inclusion Managers’ for £35,663 a head plus 28.97% pension contributions.
NIBS
The National Union of Journalists said Reach has told staff of plans to cut 24.2 full-time equivalent roles in regional print production, placing 67 jobs at risk. (Press Gazette update)
Substack has partnered with AI plagiarism checker Pangram to introduce a new ‘scan for AI text’ feature. (Press Gazette)
Google advertising revenue (including search, Youtube and Google Network) reached $81.6bn in the three months to 30 June. CEO Sundar Pichai said: "Our popular AI features are driving Search query growth." (The Hollywood Reporter)
OpenAI is renewing its investment in the American Journalism Project by committing an additional $5m in funding for local news and $3m in tech credits over the next two years. (Axios)
Around 30 newsroom jobs are being cut at the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age in Australia with the "extreme state of disruption" from AI blamed. The publisher plans to retrain and hire for "digital-first, reader-savvy, data-informed roles". (The Guardian)
Reddit has reportedly discussed shutting off Google's access to its content for AI use two years after signing a $60m deal with the tech giant. (Wall Street Journal)
The New York Times will reportedly argue in a federal court hearing that the White House is abusing the justice system to uncover its reporters' sources in a story that outraged President Trump. (NPR)
The publisher of Yorkshire Post and Scotsman Iconic Media stayed in profit in the nine months after it was bought by Media Concierge once extensive one-off costs are taken into account. (Press Gazette)
Reach drops crazy policy of bombarding readers with clickbait nonsense
BOSSES at Reach have ditched the idiot policy of burying readers under an avalanche of clickbait stories.
They have finally realised that quality is better than quantity. It is an ignominious climbdown for a publisher that has become notorious for prescribing daily story and page-view quotas to its hard-pressed reporters.
The Drone takes no pleasure in pointing out that we warned of the folly of bombarding readers with stories which should have been left on the spike.
Retch’s about-turn has been viewed as a belated acknowledgement of a botched strategy, reported the Daily Telegraph. Even as other publishers have pursued subscription models, allowing them to generate money directly from readers, Retch has stubbornly chased online advertising revenues without a paywall.
Critics both inside and outside the company have bemoaned a consequent flood of clickbait that has resulted in titles publishing stories that are, at best, irrelevant and, at times, misleading.
Aside from alienating readers, and burdening staff with extra pressures this strategy has left Retch financially vulnerable. Revenues slumped 9pc while Reach swung to a £45m pre-tax loss.
Shares in Retch plunged by nearly 25pc after the half-year results and a further 8pc on Thursday. It is now worth just £130m – a fraction of its £5bn peak in 2005.
Retch has begun rolling out paywalls across some of its sites and now has around 40,000 paid subscribers. The publisher insists it will refocus on distinctive, quality material.
A TREAT FROM YESTERYEAR
IF YOU like a touch of nostalgia, have we got a treat for you.
Former Daily Mail journalists Margaret and Alan Ashworth have started a new substack which the Drone warmly recommends.
It’s full of reminders about our younger days from Dick Barton to Bagpuss.
Click on the image above to enter this Aladdin’s Cave of treats, subscription is free.
NAUTICAL BUT NICE
Izzard’s latest book floats His Lordship’s boat
LORD Drone’s good friend and former colleague BRIAN IZZARD has found the time to write another book about boats (in joke — he calls them ships.)
His latest offering, Houdini of the Sea, is about Charles Lightoller who is known primarily as the most senior officer to survive the sinking of Titanic, but that was just one chapter in his remarkable story.
To avoid the cotton mills of his native Lancashire town, a 13-year-old Lightoller joined the crew of a four-masted sailing ship, and he would remain at sea on various ships until 1920. During his 30-year maritime career and beyond, he would survive four shipwrecks, a Zeppelin bombing, a duel with a U-boat and a perilous motor-yacht mission to Dunkirk, ultimately emerging as a hero of both world wars.
The book’s blurb says: “Compiled using extensive research, including previously unseen family information, Houdini of the Sea is the extraordinary tale of a man who escaped death many times over.”
Lord Drone has read the first few pages and reports: “It’s a rattling good read.”
Houdini of the Sea is published by The History Press (£22.99) and is available from Amazon for £22.49 HERE
Will this do, Clint? — Ed
Blown out by Hurricane
He quit our crazy golf game — to play World Title match
By GEORGE DEARSLEY
Snooker genius Alex Higgins could be belligerent and downright rude. But occasionally he could also be charming.
It was 1982, and I had been sent by the Daily Star to do a feature on the then-new trend of snooker stars wearing flamboyant, floral waistcoats. Higgins, pictured, was an early adopter.
I had been waiting in the lobby of the (now demolished) Grosvenor Hotel, in Sheffield for four hours. Messages to Higgins’ room and to his agent went unanswered. Then I spotted him getting out of a lift.
“Alex, could I have a word?” I asked.
In a typically Irish reply, he said: “Do you play golf?” "Sure," I lied.
Higgins took two clubs from reception, and we went to the hotel’s famous crazy golf area. While putting through tunnels, over bridges and around gnomes, he generously answered all my questions.
However, I began to worry because one of the most important matches of his career – the World Snooker Championship semi-final – was looming, in just 45 minutes.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the Crucible?” I asked.
“Let’s play on,” he insisted. And so we did.
Ten minutes later, he just stopped and said “Fuck it.” Then he whacked his ball as hard as he could into the horizon. And off he went.
He won the match, (against Jimmy White) and the final, (against Ray Reardon), his second World title. The Hurricane died in 2010, aged 61.
The question I failed to ask Hockney that might have cost me millions
CHRISTOPHER WILSON had a memorable meeting with David Hockney by that famous Hollywood pool during which the artist made a few pencil sketches of his young interviewer. Wilson’s one regret was that he was too polite to ask for the sketches, which he now reflects could be worth millions.
Sharon Ring’s tale of her family’s Holocaust ordeal
SHARON RING, wife of the late, lamented Phil Walker, has written a moving account of her family’s life in the Holocaust during World War 2.
It’s a rare account of Jewish survival in Berlin and adds a completely new aspect to the history of the war as it focuses on Mischlinge which is the German word for mongrel, half-breed, mutt, usually used about dogs but the Nazis cruelly took it to describe men, women and children with mixed Aryan ancestry.
Mischlinge by Sharon Ring is published by HarperCollins for £16.99 in hardback, and is available on Amazon in all formats HERE.
Fangs for the memory
By GEORGE DEARSLEY
Photographers are often given Mission Impossible assignments by their desks, and none more so than staffer Ken Bingham, working for Sport Newspapers.
His boss wanted him to illustrate a story about an East German woman called Bertha, who claimed she spoke to her late husband via his false teeth, kept in a glass by her bedside.
Unable to fly abroad, Ken thought he had bitten off more than he could chew.
But fortunately, he solved the problem by borrowing his mum’s dentures to pose as the psychic gnashers.
I couldn’t resist sending the story to Press Gazette’s Dog Watches Dog column, which had Ken, who died in Spain in 2016, chomping at the bit.
But it was the tooth and nothing but the tooth.
That’s enough tooth gags, George, I’ve nothing left for the headline — Ed
EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!
Robohacks are coming sooner than you think
By AI ADDIO, last man standing
NOT so long ago we would have laughed at the notion of robosubs or robowriters but make no mistake, they are trundling our way.
The oft-predicted apocalyptic day when AI will finally replace all journalists seems to get closer and closer, warns Popbitch.
Marie Claire magazine accidentally left an AI prompt in one of their recent articles, an explainer on The Odyssey.
“This version feels a little tighter and more magazine-style,” it helpfully reads. It was particularly proud of the phrase “embracing his villain era”.
Even worse, Take A Break, one of the UK’s most profitable publications, has announced its fiction section will from now on be 100% AI.
And an AI film studio announced they will be making a fully AI-generated adaptation of The Odyssey, set for release later this summer.
STILL STANDING (JUST)
The World’s Greatest Lunch Club celebrates its 100th anniversary
JOY and jubilation came to Covent Garden as the World’s Greatest Lunch Club celebrated its 100th meeting. Sadly its numbers were diminished since the palmy days when eight (subs pse check) of us sat down for a glass or two of lunch.
Three members managed to stagger to the Boulevard Brasserie. Pictured above are, from left, Alastair Mcintyre, Alan Frame and Roger Watkins (Miss).
Languishing at home suffering from a variety of ailments were Dick Dismore (hernia), Terry Manners (bad leg) and Pat Pilton (knackered).
Absent friends who have passed to the Great Nosebag in the Sky include Craig Orr, Terry Evans, Ashley Walton and David Eliades.
Glasses were raised to their memory.
CHUMS WE HAVE LOST
Paddy Clancy, 82
ANOTHER big figure from old Fleet Street, former Daily Express reporter Paddy Clancy, has died aged 82.
Clancy, who was well known in his native Ireland for his broadcasting work, died on Friday, 23 January at Sligo University Hospital surrounded by his family.
He is survived by his wife Bernie, two daughters and a son.
The Irish Taoiseach Micheál Martin said Clancy was "an enormous presence in Irish journalism for over six decades. His distinctive take on RTÉ's morning paper round up was essential listening.
"His reporting and columns were essential reading for many years in the Sligo Champion, Donegal People’s Press, Irish Sun and Mirror."
Retro Rambleshanks, author of the acclaimed Drone series Yesterday Once More, writes: Ashley Walton, LOTP, used to tell of the time when, as a new reporter, he was sent by Night News Editor Mike Steemson to fetch Paddy Clancy and fellow Irishman Mike O’Flaherty back to the office from The Cartoonist where they were ‘resting’.
‘How will I know them?’ he asked. ‘Easy,’ says Steemson, ‘they’ll be standing at the bar wearing just their underpants.’ And so it came to pass. When Ashley returned to the office Steemson asked what the response had been. ‘They said to tell you to go fuck yourself,’ reported Ash. ‘Oh, good,’ said Mike, ‘they’re coming back, then.’ And so, fully clothed, they were.
James Mossop, 89
One of the great sports writers, James Mossop of the Sunday Express, has died aged 89.
Jim covered ten World Cups, eight Olympic games, dozens of world title fights, major golf tournaments and Formula One races.
He started his career on the North West Evening Mail and developed a passion for journalism that never waned. He spent most of his career on the Sunday Express before joining the Sunday Telegraph.
Alex Montgomery, former chairman of the Football Writers’ Association, said: ‘He was the very best of journalists, an outstanding football writer who had to be read and who was on so many occasions in a class of his own.’
The family, who are having a private funeral, have set up a tributes page.
CONTRIBUTE HERE
The Drone is particularly sad to announce the death of one of the funniest men in Fleet Street, Express sub-editor John Mulcock.
Mullers, as everyone called him, died on 18 October at the age of 81.
Drone editor Alastair McIntyre said: ‘Mullers was a great and dear friend and our joint insanity helped to keep us both sane during crazy and stressful days on the Express in the Noughties. I grieve for him.’
Tony Boullemier said: ‘A top sub and an extremely funny man. If he wasn't firing off a quip, he was saying something that you just knew was leading up to one.
‘And when political correctness spread over newsrooms in the 90s, he was one of the last journos to ignore it.’
John Mulcock, 81
TIMES READERS’ LIVES TRIBUTE
Ivor Davis, 87
ONE of the big stars of the old Daily Express, West Coast correspondent Ivor Davis, died on Sunday 29 March surrounded by his family in Ventura, California. He was 87.
The Express assigned him to cover the Beatles in 1964 when the toured America for a month. His wife, Sally Ogle Davis, died in 2012, and they had two children Gideon and Rebecca. In 1969 Davis co-wrote Five to Die, the first book ever published about the Sharon Tate-LaBianca murders, and covered the trial for the Daily Express.
As a foreign correspondent, he traveled throughout the western hemisphere covering riots, floods, earthquakes, and politics.
As Editor-at-Large for Los Angeles Magazine, he and Sally wrote more than 100 major magazine and cover stories. In 2019, he wrote about his journey with the Manson Family title Manson Exposed.
Davis was the best selling author of books about his travels with the Fab Four —“The Beatles and Me On Tour” and three books about his experiences with the Charles Manson murder case. His latest book is “The Devil in My Friend —The Inside Story of A Malibu Murder”— about a friend who turned out to be a murderer.
John Smith told the Drone: “Sad news about Ivor Davis, and farewell to another of Fleet Street’s greats. Our paths often crossed when I was New York correspondent for the Daily Mirror back in the sixties.
“He was fiercely competitive when chasing a showbiz story, but always amiable and cheerful company, ever ready to give me guidance when coping with the Hollywood scene that he covered so brilliantly for so many years.”
David Eliades, 92
THE Drone is particularly sad to report that David Eliades, who manned the Daily Express foreign desk for many years, has died at the age of 92 at his home in Switzerland.
There was more to David than just journalism. He was an author too and one of his works is still playing to audiences at various locations in Italy.
Stephen Bacon, 79
Stephen Bacon, one of the great Daily Express lawyers and a thoroughly nice man, has died. He was 79 and had been suffering from prostate cancer.
Stephen practised for 11 years in Manchester chambers before joining Express Newspapers from where he retired as head of legal. He later became a media law consultant mainly for The Times, The Sunday Times and The Sun.
Stephen leaves a wife, Felicity, who is a retired Express features sub, and a daughter, Cleo.
Compton Miller, 8o
Richard Compton Miller, the last of the gossips from the great days of Fleet Street has died at the age of 80. He had been in hospital with pneumonia when he caught an infection and had also been suffering from Parkinson’s Disease.
The funeral is on Tuesday December 16, at 1.30 at the Temple Church, Middle Temple.
Peter Grosvenor, 92
PETER Grosvenor, long-standing literary editor of the Daily Express, has died two months short of his 93rd birthday. He joined the Express in 1962 when Beaverbrook was still alive and taking more than a passing an interest in his newspapers. He remembered one call in particular when the Beaver informed him: "Mr Grosvenor, we have more readers in the Social AB class than any other paper. So it's a very important job you do Mr Grosvenor.” There would have been a hint of menace in the Beaver's delivery.
Gaiety at Eighty for Tony
IT was nosebags all round for the Class of 1970 when former Expressman Tony Boullemier took his old friends out to dinner to celebrate his 80th birthday.
Adding to the entertainment was Kelvin MacKenzie, who got married for the third time earlier this year. He confided that each time he marries he moves a junction or two of the M25. He is currently at Junction 11 and he confessed that he is currently considering Junction 16.
Pictured at the Queen’s Head in Weybridge, Surrey, are Kelvin MacKenzie, Julia Boullemier (Tony’s daughter-in-law), Alastair ‘Bingo’ McIntyre (appearing by kind permission of Lord Drone), Chris ‘Lady Bingo’ McIntyre, Craig Mackenzie, Lesley MacKenzie (Kelvin’s wife), Tony ‘Monsewer’ Boullemier, and his son Richard ‘Ric’ Boullemier.
Lord Drone is honoured for 20 years of his Fleet Street organ
LORDING IT: Drone as imagined by Scott Clissold of the Sunday Express
THE Daily Drone is 20 years old? Shurely shome mistake. Believe it or not it is true and to mark the anniversary His Worship Lord (Bingo) Drone was presented with a magnificent caricature hand-tooled by Scott Clissold, talented cartoonist of the Sunday Express.
The ceremony took place in front of disinterested diners at the Boulevard Brasserie in London’s Covent Garden, the venue for numerous drink-sodden gatherings of the World’s Greatest Lunch Club.
The brasserie is a favourite with WGLC members not just for the excellent cuisine but also for the fact that Le Patron provides old-age pensioners with half-price food.
Lord Drone gave a long address of thanks to gently sleeping members which can be summed up as “thanks awfully chums”. He left shortly afterwards in a sedan chair after proffering his fondest thanks to Roger Watkins (chairman), Terry Manners, Dick Dismore, Alan Frame and Pat Pilton for their generous gesture. (Will that do M’Lud? — Ed)
CRICKETERS IN THE FRAME
DAVID RICHARDSON, pictured above in sunglasses, has been clearing out his loft and come up with a few sporting pix involving Daily Express journalists. But who are they?
My brain scan and cognitive test proves that I’m as sharp as Trump
By IAN BAIN
I failed the Montreal cognitive test, the one that Donald Trump claims to have passed four times. So the Medicines for the Elderly Department, which I believe used to be called the geriatric unit, sent me for a brain scan. Three weeks later they called to say the report was in.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked.
“We’d like you to come in for a chat,” they said. “Allow for two hours and bring your wife.”
“My wife’s a psychoanalyst and would have to cancel patients.”
“Ten o’clock on Friday,” they said.
We were met by a cheerful staff nurse who immediately handed Sharadha a questionnaire to fill in. Did I have mood swings, etc.
“So, the scan results…” I ventured.
“You’ll be seeing the doctor when we’re finished here,” the nurse said.
I was getting a little alarmed, more so as she demanded multiple examples of my forgetfulness and homed in on my driving. Earlier in the week a friend who came to dinner asked in too jolly a tone if I thought they might take away my licence. Until that point I hadn’t.
“Before we start,” said the nurse, “can I just ask if you've given power of attorney to your wife... or anyone else?”
That was my rabbit-in-the-headlights moment.
“Now don’t get upset,” she said, “because you’ll need to focus on this next exam.”
She got out her stop watch. This was the Montreal test on steroids, the dreaded ACE-III.
“All the words you can think of beginning with P… Go!” The first was easy — panic. That was just one of seemingly countless individual tests. My fear of failing must have fuelled a mental agility I didn’t know I had.
Then it was into the doctor’s office for a joint interrogation after which I dared to ask “er… the brain scan…?”
“Oh that was fine,” said the doctor. “Very good for someone of your age.”
PS: Spurred by terror, I score 96 out of 100 in the ACE-III test.
EXCLUSIVE
John Osborne hated gossip writers but the play he wrote lampooning them was an embarrassing failure
John Osborne was one of our most successful playwrights but he hated gossip columnists such as William Hickey with a vengeance. So he wrote a play attacking them. Former William Hickey editor CHRISTOPHER WILSON, writing exclusively for the Drone, said the battle came to a head on 5 May 1959, the opening night of The World of Paul Slickey, the much awaited follow-up to Osborne's blockbusters Look Back in Anger and The Entertainer.
The play didn’t go well. The audience booed and actress Adrienne Corri, raced downstage throwing V-signs at them and shouting "Go fuck yourselves!"
Among those booing loudest was Noël Coward, who later wrote in his diary, “Never in all my theatrical experience have I seen anything so appalling — appalling from every point of view!”
Farewell to the Great Eliades
CHEERS DAVID: Raising a glass to David Eliades are, from left, Kim Willsher, Alan Frame, Geoff Levy, Gill Martin and Chris Williams
By ALAN FRAME
Before David Eliades joined the Daily Express in 1963 he worked briefly one floor up on the SX. Until, that is, the ghastly old lecher John Junor called him in and said: ”I’m afraid we shall be parting ways” to which David replied: “Sorry to hear that, where are you going?”
That was one of the many stories told when friends of the great man celebrated the 92 years of his life in the St Bride’s Glee Club, more formally known as the Humble Grape wine bar at the rear of Fleet Street’s parish church.
The event was hosted by David’s widow Lamar, pictured, who had travelled from Lugano with her daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren who took in their stride the sight of old hacks drinking vast quantities of fine wine.
Kim Willsher arrived straight from the Eurostar that had brought her from home in Paris. She told of David persuading Nick Lloyd to splash on the news of the Chernobyl disaster (we led the way on the appalling effects of the fallout which lasted for decades) and ensured that she had a well-deserved pop at Nick in the process.
One of David’s great gifts was in encouraging young female reporters, in spectacular contrast to the likes of Mike Parry, and it was no surprise that so many of them were there to raise a glass to him; Liz Gill, Gill Martin, Melanie Whitehouse, Gill Swain and Jo Gourlay. Louise Court would have been there had she not just lost her father Monty, former news editor of the Mail and editor of Racing Post.
Sadly David Richardson wasn’t well enough to make it from Languedoc but his daughter Lucy dashed down from her job in the City to read a message from the old boy.
Two distinguished former Express defence corrs were there, John Ingham and Michael Evans who excused himself after a mere three hours to write a piece for The Times.. Chris Williams came down from Glasgow, the indomitable Kate Hadley from Cambridgeshire, as had Esther Harrod, and David’s goddaughter Emma Freemantle from Herefordshire. Somehow I made the seven miles from Gipsy Hill and David Wigg the three from the King’s Road.
It was a great show of the affection we all had for David; Sue Peart, Maureen Paton, Caroline Hendrie, John Burns, Jeremy Gates and Geoff Levy all shared their memories and if I hadn’t ended up in the Bell with Williams, Willsher and Ingham I might well be able to recount them.
Thank you Lamar, and most of all thank you David. You were a star!
The things they used to say on Boulevard of Broken Dreams
By PAT WELLAND
With nothing better to do, I’ve been re-reading a couple of books about the Boulevard at a time now seen – as one of the authors remarks – “as remote as the Byzantine empire”.
From political commentator Alan Watkins’ excellent A Short Walk Down Fleet Street, two conversations between Jack Nener, “a foul-mouthed bow-tied Swansea boy” who was Mirror editor 53-61, and his deputy, Dick Dinsdale:
1. “What we need on this paper, Jack, are a few Young Turks.”
Nener: “I can see we could do with a few new faces about the place, but why in fuck’s name do they have to be Turkish?”
2. “The sub-editors, like most people who work long shifts in unchanging company, had a number of catchphrases, or joke sentences. One of them – it comes from the film of Tom Brown’s Schooldays, rather than from the book itself – was: ‘Flashman, you are a bully and a liar, and there is no place for you in this school.’
Nener was overheard asking: ‘Who’s this Flashman, then, Dick?’
‘Flashman? Flashman? I don’t think we’ve got any one of that name on the paper, Jack. Is he a reporter or a sub?’
‘I don’t give a fuck what he is, but get rid of him fucking quick. He’s a bully and a liar’.”
3. From Matthew Engel’s equally enjoyable Tickle the Public – 100 years of the popular press: “There is a story that around 1926 John Logie Baird went into the Express office anxious to show his new invention (TV, as any fule kno) to the editor (Beverley Baxter). Baxter, in keeping with the paper’s reputation for percipience, sent down the message ‘Get rid of that lunatic. He may have a knife'.”
The smile that says our old pal Porky is feeling better
FORMER Expressman Mike ‘Porky’ Parry has had some good news at last.
He wrote on X: “Five months from starting skin cancer treatment I had a major consultation at the Royal Marsden today to be told things have gone very well and a full recovery is expected. Incredibly grateful to the doctors and radiologists and THANKS to y'all for the fantastic support.”
The Drone wishes him well.
The day I was told to rewrite Tom Stoppard’s copy (and share his ancient typewriter)
JOHN SMITH remembers a mad day at the Bristol Evening World in the 1960s when a gas explosion rocked the city. Tom Stoppard was one of several reporters sent to cover the drama. Trouble was that young Tom was not a news man and wrote far too much. Consequently a frazzled chief sub told Smith to rewrite the Bard’s lyrical prose.
The Night Howls
Two members of the Daily Express news sub-editorial team fill their time after returning from the pub late at night in the 1980s. If memory serves, this was the final of the Arthriticson Howling Contest which involved shouting HERE DOWN PLEASE! in the manner of Foreign Sub Jack Atkinson, an aged Ulsterman. By the look on the face of Lord Drone, left, he has received a high score from adjudicator Mr Robert ‘Algy’ Smith.
We thank you most kindly, as the late Mr Arthriticson would have said.
Fleet Street in the mist
Looks eerily quiet, doesn’t it? This slightly moist pic of Ludgate Circus taken from the foot of Fleet Street dates from 1972 and found by Terry Manners in his dusty drawers.
The photo was snapped by City copper PC Lew Tassle walking home after his beat in EC4.
He would have been standing outside the Albion so one can’t help wondering whether he had slipped into the pub for an out-of-hours snifter. Just about everyone else did.
PC Tassle often displays his pictures in the wonderful Spitalfields Life website which opens a window to how London used to be.
ALLAN HALL, of this parish, has written another book, which will be published next January but can be preordered today.
He told the Drone: “Conceived in delirium, written in Berlin, edited in Bavaria, printed in Cambridge — The Duck Press is the incredible story of the kidnapping of one Kelvin Calder MacKenzie! AND it's NOT self-published! (Spoiler alert: Kelvin survives.)
“Other than that, it’s a bit of a romp featuring a grieving father who lost his only son at Hillsborough, a gay crimper called Desmond, a Saaarf London villain named Vic, a Sun femme fatale, a fired Sun hack, a compassionate detective, a man-eating lizard called Cecil and the biggest beast of them all, Keith Rupert Murdoch. Sun staff in the book are sometimes real, sometimes fictional characters.”
The author pledges to squander all royalties on strong drink.
Allan Hall is retired now but was formerly a crime reporter at the Daily Mail, chief reporter at the Daily Star, US editor for The Sun and US editor at the Daily Mirror. He is the author of 30 books on crime, mysteries and the paranormal, including the bestselling Monster about Josef Fritzl.
NEW BOOK ALERT
Inside story of the kidnapping of Kelvin MacKenzie (up to a point)
WE’VE GONE BANANAS, READERS!
Swim’ll Fix It for the Donald
FRUIT AND NUT
The cheesy grins say it all. Lord Drone’s magnificent organ has staggered to the rescue of Donald Trump as he waits for his Nobel Peace Prize. We sent our columnist Helena Handcart (Mr) to dress up as a banana and hand the President the 10 metre swimming certificate (s)he won in the 1950s.
The Halfwit in the White House (what’s left of it) looks well pleased with the gift, doesn’t he readers?
FLEET STREET GOES TO WAR
An atmospheric picture from 1915 showing men queuing in Fleet Street to sign up to fight in the First World War. It makes one wonder if any of these brave lads ever returned from the killing fields.
This pic was submitted by Tom McCarthy who spotted them on a social media site called Old England in Colour, which features colourised photos.
RUPERT THE RUTHLESS
Rupert Murdoch was a ruthless operator from an early age, says Andrew O'Hagan in The New Yorker. The media tycoon's first job in the UK was a summer placement at the Birmingham Gazette, arranged for him by his father through the chairman of the paper's parent company, Pat Gibson. The editor, Charles Fenby, later recalled that he took young Rupert under his wing, befriending him and showing him everything he could about the business. "And what did he do? He wrote a filthy letter to Pat afterwards saying I should be fired."
MURDER!
(Of the Engliẝh language)
HERE is an excellent example of how language changes over the centuries.
It is a report of a murder case from 1674. Sixteen people died when someone poisoned boiling meat with rat poison.
Good job they eventually invented sub-editors. Thanks to the best of that particular breed, Terry Manners, who discovered this gem in the Bishopsgate Institute.
Poignant story behind these three cobblestones buried in memory of DX showbiz writer Ian Lyness in the land he loved so much
By BRIAN EMSLEY
THESE three cobblestones have been interred bearing messages in fond remembrance of former Express showbiz writer, and my friend, Ian Lyness.
The Drone ran an obituary four years ago after he died aged 70 in Colorado, where he lived with his American wife Catherine. But he suffered terrible homesickness for England.
Ian had asked me back in 2011, after first getting lymphoma, that his ashes be scattered in Hadley Wood, near High Barnet. But when his ashes were sent to me by his widow they were blocked by UK Customs for paperwork reasons and ended up in a lockup in Utah. His wife had by then relocated to Maryland.
A profound patriot, Ian would be turning in his urn that he could not rest in England especially when masses of illegal immigrants pour in with no paperwork. So, to honour his request, I and another chum buried cobblestones in the wood, messages penned on them. One of his favourite films was I’m All Right Jack, hence one of the messages.
He was a great supporter of King Richard III, who as a teenager, commanded the Yorkist army that crushed the Lancastrian army on the same spot at the Battle of Barnet. So, I hope Ian’s happy!
A MONOCLE-POPPING MOMENT AT THE EXPRESS
Do you mean us, Annie?
WHAT-HO! Express subs Alastair ‘Bingo’ McIntyre, Bob ‘Algy’ Smith and John ‘Bertie’ Brooks enjoying a refreshing glass of supper in the 1980s
MUCH has been written on these pages about the madcap Dronery on the Daily Express during the 1980s and 90s and our man TERRY MANNERS has found more evidence.
He writes: While browsing yet more publishing archives I came across this revealing quote from an interview with a local councillor for Salisbury, named Annie Riddle, pictured, in the December issue of the digital magazine Inside Salisbury.
Sounds fascinating, eh?
Talking about her time as a sub-editor in Fleet Street, she says: “When I was at the Express. There were a bunch of young lads there, four of them, they were very good, but they used to push it.
“They had this thing called the Drones Club and would pretend to be characters out of Bertie Wooster with the monocles and this would go on for the whole shift…
“Fleet Street was very male-dominated then. Heavy drinking was the norm but there was a lot of fun and I worked with some really clever people.”
Who could she be talking about, I wonder?”
(Drone editor dives under nearest desk)
Who the hell is that man gatecrashing our quiet lunch? McEntee? Nuff said
MAIL diarist John McEntee really put his foot in it when he arrived late at a lunch to celebrate his cousin Catherine’s 50th wedding anniversary with husband Mick.
So when he saw all the guests sitting at dining tables he wasted no time in addressing the assembled company.
But there was a hitch as the former William Hickey editor admitted.
He said: “l arrived late and all were seated including the happy couple, their children Gareth and Andrew and two grandchildren plus childhood friend Majella Sullivan and her husband Nick. The upstairs room was chocka block with about 60 covers.
“Before the food was served and without Catherine I dashed to the front of the room banged a wine bottle with a spoon and called for silence.
“Addressing the throng I described growing up in Cavan with my cousin and how wonderful it was to be here with her family and friends marking her splendid milestone with Mick.
“I called for a toast just noticing out of the corner of my eye the lovely Catherine with her head in her hands. Returning to my seat nothing was said. Then during the dessert course I noticed that the room had emptied down to three large tables containing Catherine's invitees. Behind me were dozens of empty tables.”
Catherine explained: “They weren't part of our party. They were just people I don't know having lunch.” Doh!
DRONE PICTURE SPECIAL
My chum and colleague Ivor Davis, famed West Coast reporter for the Daily Express
Ivor Davis drives a robot in his car in pursuit of a story in 1984
BY PAUL HARRIS
THE death of Ivor Davis made me think of my life as a photographer from Barnstaple, North Devon, where I lived for 29 years too frightened to try and compete with Fleet Street.
In 1975 I sailed with my car to South Africa where there were lots of jobs as many white families were fleeing the country because of the fear of war.
I ended up in The Rhodesia Bush War but it was Terry Fincher who got me to Hollywood and Ivor Davis who enhanced my career in California.
DOLLY DANCING WEATHER
MIDSUMMER MADNESS AT THE DAILY DRONE
SLIPPERY SLOPE: News subs try to pop out for a livener between editions forgetting their bells are a giveaway
BY MORRIS AUSTIN
An exciting new pastime has been introduced for journalists affected by a major shake-up in the world of online newspapers: morris dancing.
A new troupe, the Drone Dollies, will soon be cavorting on the greensward and pub car parks of rural England.
The group is made up of journalists employed by Lord Drone. A spokesman explained: ‘Following the recent decision to reduce the World’s Greatest Online Newspaper publication a bit, His Lordship was concerned that his staff would become more bored and fractious than they already are.
‘Morris dancing seemed the ideal way to prevent the devil making work for idle hands, as it were.’
The Dollies intend to perform a mixture of Hersham Gay Morris and Heckmondwike TipToe. In some cases the dancers’ white silk hankies and traditional pig bladders or balloons on sticks will be replaced by elbow crutches, walking frames and mobility scooters.
*Morris Austin is not related to Austin Morris, writes Fiesta Ford
ATTA GIRLS: Members of the Women’s and Fashion Dept cease their incessant backbiting to strut their stuff
HIGH FLIERS: Elite Drone Back Bench team showcasing some nifty moves as the first edition deadline looms
Ace Star reporter George is the only journalist to be banned from writing for the Sunday Sport … possibly
By GEORGE DEARSLEY
The recent furore concerning newspaper mogul David Sullivan reminded me of an unusual claim to fame in my journalistic career. I believe I may be the only journalist ever to be banned from contributing to the Sunday Sport.
The ban was imposed by the then editor Drew Robertson, whom I had upset by writing an innocuous piece in the trade journal Press Gazette, the content of which has dissolved in the mists of time.
Robertson was later sacked in 1990 for running an adverse Press Council adjudication under the headline BOLLOCKS TO THE PRESS COUNCIL. Around that time, the Sunday Sport had also caused uproar when it snatched a picture of television actor Gorden Kaye as he lay injured in hospital after a car accident. Robertson went on to form his own media company and, among other things, has done sterling community work throughout Derbyshire.
An old friend of mine — Ian Pollock, ex Daily Star — took his post, leading Journalists Week to write the classic headline BOLLOCKS OUT – POLLOCK IN. My ban was immediately lifted and Ian commissioned me to write many pieces for the paper, including a full, graphic, no-holds-barred account of a man, who underwent a sex change operation to become a woman.
Another assignment concerned a TV ad about a giant hedgehog, which flattened cars on a country road. I had to interview the hedgehog. Them were t’days.
DRONE PHOTO NEWS
What goes around comes around: Young bloods Press ganged into reporting on the 1969 Troubles
By GEOFFREY SEED
FOOTAGE from the recent attempted pogrom in Belfast was enough to remind old hacks of how grim it was in the early days.
From memory, the Daily Mirror placed this ad in Press Gazette when young shavers like me were flown in for four week 'tours' to help out the permanent guys.
The Daily Mail's Belfast office was run by Ted Scallan and John Thorne, later of the BBC. I joined them periodically, soaking wet behind the ears, between 1969 and 1972 when almost a thousand people were killed —soldiers, police officers, civilians.
Stories could be filed until about 3 a.m. and six hours later, the whole bloody business started all over again.
I left newspapers for television in '74 but returned to Northern Ireland to film in the 'H' Block dirty protest and later, to produce three Panorama investigations into the British State's secret involvement in running terrorists.
All good clean fun. If nothing else, these experiences provided material for when I dyed my hair grey and began writing political thrillers.
CAPTAIN KIRK’S COCK-UP
HISTORY NOTE: In the early days of Star Trek in the 1960s, Press photographers snapped Captain James T Kirk, of the starship Enterprise, played by actor William Shatner, helping out behind the scenes by arranging his favourite rocks on distant planets.
Polite caption written by T. MANNERS
BAD TASTE CORNER
So. Farewell then, Hatters
LATEX AND LAMENTED: Roy with his Spitting Image alter ego
Lord (Roy) Hattersley, politician, journalist and writer who was deputy leader of the Labour party for a decade, has died aged 93.
He was a good chap who regularly visited the Daily Express’s London offices in Blackfriars clutching his weekly column to present to the editor. We speculated that he spent the rest of the evening enjoying a fish-and-chip supper ‘washed down’ by a pint of light and bitter.
Editor at the time was Rosie Boycott who was brought into turn the Express into a left-wing paper. Fortunately the readers seemed not to notice but they would have been furious if they had found out.
Life on the Express was like that.
ONCE MIGHTY PAPER POSTS £53m LOSSES
At the going down of The Sun we will mostly remember Kelvin’s great front pages
By JAMES BALL, writing in The New World
WHEN, in July 1995, Tony Blair controversially flew halfway around the world to give a speech to Rupert Murdoch and his top executives, he was not doing so to gain the endorsement of The Times. It was The Sun – then the most influential media outlet in the UK, and the tormentor of his predecessor Neil Kinnock – wot Blair wanted to win over.
Blair’s decision to woo Murdoch at the exclusive Hayman Island resort in Queensland, Australia, came with political cost. Murdoch had broken the print unions to move his operation to Wapping, and The Sun’s vile false front page the day after the Hillsborough disaster just six years earlier was still a relatively fresh memory.
Kelvin MacKenzie, who had run The Sun as a feisty, sometimes funny but mostly desperately racist, sexist and homophobic battering ram against Labour, had only departed as editor the previous year. Many within the Labour movement were appalled to see a fresh-faced, electable Labour leader even giving Murdoch the time of day, let alone flying to a private island to see him.”
But now The Sun is surely setting, just like its proprietor. Its readership is much diminished, its political power is all but used up, and it doesn’t even make money any more. Last week it announced losses of £53million in the previous tax year, up from £18million the year before.
Where once the paper was at the heart of the national conversation, it now barely reckons in it. Stop to think for a moment: what’s the last Sun front page that you can actually remember?
The truth is that newspapers as a whole have less power in 2026 than they did in the 1990s – in the internet era, there is simply a lot more competition for our attention. This has shown in their sales: in 2010 the Sun was the UK’s top-selling paper, shifting around 2.9m copies a day, a comfortable 800,000 copies ahead of the second-place Daily Mail.”
“Part of the cause of the Sun’s woes is the phone-hacking scandal, for which it is still paying compensation and legal costs more than 15 years after the scandal broke. The newspaper made a profit of £103m in its last accounts before the phone-hacking revelations, but has failed to ever turn a profit since – with cumulative losses totalling £1.3bn over the last 15 years.”
“The question is how much longer the Sun itself lasts. Insiders believe it is safe for so long as 95-year-old Rupert Murdoch is alive – but after that, it could easily be put up for sale, or even shut down entirely.
©The New World
Changing face of Fleet Street
This is how the Street of Shame looks like in July 2026. This pic, taken from the top of an N551 bus in the early morning, shows the progress of the works to build new law courts and an HQ for the City Police.
Also promised is more seating (handy if you’re too pissed to get back to work) and wider pavements (which will make the gutters a little bit farther away).
These admirable developments are, of course, too late for us old timers, but a big vote of confidence in the next generation of drinkers.
The night our noble Sir Osbert brought the chapel house down
LETTER TO THE EDITOR
Milord, Your Oldie cartoon – Osbert Lancaster, obviously – brings to mind that curious chain-smoking genius from another world who sat among us every afternoon while he composed his pocket cartoon to adorn the Express's front page.
Once those little squibs contained sharp social commentary, coming from the mouths of his chief heroine Maudie Littlehampton and her upper-class cronies, but by the 1970s the jokes were maybe wearing a little thin. Still, it was an honour to have this bow-tied knight of the realm calmly working away at his desk while the daily rage and noise went on around him.
One day there was a compulsory union meeting, maybe – probably – about money, and the space around his desk was commandeered by reporters, subs and snappers all eager to have their say on the latest management outrage.
Suddenly, like a porpoise breaking surface, Sir Osbert rose from his desk with his arms outstretched.
“My fellow wage-slaves…” he began.
This was the millionaire author of 45 best-selling books, set designer of 25 productions ranging from the Covent Garden Opera House to the Old Vic and back again, and creator of many other lucrative publications.
But in that moment this crusty old gent from a world so very far removed from the Ink became one of us. He brought the house down.
Yrs to a cinder,
C. WISLON
Little Hampton
Nosex
The Daily Drone is published, financed and edited by Alastair ‘Bingo’ McIntyre with contributions from the veteran journalists of old Fleet Street, Manchester, Glasgow, Welsh Wales and the worldwide diaspora. Dedicated to scribblers everywhere.
©Lord Drone, Whom God Preserve 2005—2026
