IT’S AN UNFAIR COP

Sir — As part of 'Sir' Keir Stalin's major Government relaunch —sorry, reset — he plans to put 'a named police officer in every neighbourhood'. This begs the question: Are there currently thousands of unnamed plods pounding the beat throughout the UK?

P EDANT (Sgt rtd)

TREE-TIER KEIR’S LIGHT DECISION

Sir — Finally, after five months in office, the hapless incumbent of No 10 has achieved something without having to resort to reviews, consultations or working parties; reset the Government's agenda; break any manifesto promises; or rack up unnecessary air miles. Yes, the PM has successfully managed to make a decision and single-handedly switch on the Downing Street Christmas tree lights — and no Taylor Swift or Arsenal players in sight! That should send his popularity ratings soaring, as well as fixing the foundations of the economy. Just two questions remain. Were the lights donated by Lord Alli, and will they be powered using that nice Mr Miliband's solar panels or wind turbines? I think we should be told.

ENOCH KEMIBAD

McDonald's,

Neasden

TRIGGER WARNING

Sir — I note that Sir Keir Starmer's middle name is Rodney. How appropriate. From now on can we refer to him as Dave?

STERCUS ACCIDIT

HALT! HUGO’S THERE

Sir — I must commend the photographer who crafted the picture of the opening of the Victor Hugo(e) centre on Guernsey where he lived in exile for many years after his fellow Frogs told him to hop it. There is Victor himself, looking very lifelike in the official line-up, captioned as if he were still alive even though he croaked in 1885. Must  say his clothes are a bit … dated. I’ve read some of his stuff and it’s so good, no wonder they turned one of his dismal tales into a musical.

Yours in Seine,

LESLIE MISERABLES,

Paris.

A SMART ARSE WRITES …

Sir — You carry a Just Fancy That on Robert Jenrick being MP for Newark, ‘which is an anagram of wanker’. Four days earlier, columnist Helena Handcart had an item which, teasingly, stated that Jenrick ‘is MP for Newark (anag)’. Stuj  ganiys (anag).

P.RODNOSE

Bletchley Park

(I’m fired — Ed)

TESTING TIMES

Dear Lord Drone — Rick McNeill’s amusing letter about Bill O’Hagan’s subbing test reminded me of a similar examination. It was around 1970 and  I’d been on the Express about a year when Tony Armstrong (I think it was he) gave me the foreign page lead to sub.

A major Middle East situation was boiling over and Tony handed me a sheaf of copy from staff reporters and stringers in Tel Aviv, Cairo, Beirut, Damascus, Washington and our diplomatic correspondent in London. Plus yards of agency stuff. 

“Ten paragraphs,” he said. “You’ve got 15 minutes. Send them down one par at a time and don’t use the word meanwhile.”

It must have been acceptable because I noticed from the following week’s rota that I was down for a night on the late late shift. I hated it. It meant there was no chance of catching the last train to Tonbridge and it brought up issues of self-worth when they gave me a car home or put me up at the Waldorf. Eventually, I found a room in a flat in London which eased the problem.  (I ended up marrying — and years later being divorced by — one of my flat-mates but that’s another story).

One night on late, after quite a lengthy break during which I’d consumed much more than my usual pint or two, Ted Dickinson called me over and handed me a galley proof.  “See what you can do with that,” he said.

It sometimes seems to me that stories already set in type have an unlikeable sense of permanency. This was one such occasion. Give me a few pages of copy any time. Hindered by a fuzziness of the mind, I read this damned thing two or three times, turned it upside down and back to front and then admitted defeat. 

“Sorry, Ted, I can’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Okay,” he said, putting it aside.

I knew I was damned. No more late shifts which actually suited me just fine even if it curtailed aspirations for advancement. 

IAN BAIN

Edinburgh

FAKE BOOZE

My lord — I’m deeply concerned about that pic of Daily Herald sub-editors at work.

First I worry about the ectoplasm hanging above the desk — can it the ghost of Ralph Blumenfeld, checking there's no sloping going on during their shift? 

Second and more worrying, looks like there isn't a single sloper among them.

Must be a fake.

CHRISTOPHER WISLON

c/o The Ring O'Balls

Ballsbridge

Dubbin

DX FEATURES MEMORIES

Sir — I was browsing the Internet when I happened upon the Daily Drone and an article from former TV pages sub Nick Hill, himself having stumbled across a Features Desk rota amongst his archives.

You enquire: So where are they all now? And are they all still with us?

Well, I’m pleased to report that I am, er, still with us, and that was a rota I produced as I was at that time Executive Chief Sub-Editor (Features), under then Features Editor Craig (The Bouncing Bogbrush) Mackenzie. 

I recall all those names vividly. In my position on the middle bench, I was often to lock horns with Women’s Editor Heather McGlone over late copy flow. Later being appointed to the back bench as an Assistant Features Editor by Craig, ’twas a bad day at the office for me when she was appointed Features Editor, making my life hell, the final straw being when she (wrongfully) accused me of being rude to her secretary. Having called me into the corridor by the lift space, she blurted: “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you because I don’t want you on my desk.” Succinct, if nothing else. Anyway, as a self-appointed Night Production Editor, I was eventually to leave the DX in July 1994 to seek my golden wheelbarrows elsewhere.

Good to read Terry Manners’ three-part series on the Black Lubyanka, too. I began my career as a freelance sub-editor in 1983-4 when Terry was on the back bench. Disappointed at not being offered a staff post, I offered Terry a lift to Liverpool Street Station, when he commented: “It’s only a job.” Might have been to you, Terry. I moved across to the features desk under the leadership of Alan Frame, and was taken under the wing of subs Simon Brodbeck and the late, lamented, Scott Gormley.

Even in my declining years, I remain gainfully employed as an author, biographer, and production editor with Mortons Media in Lincolnshire, overseeing four of its motorcycle titles. 

MIKE (The Gonzo Biker) COWTON

WATT A POLITICAL OWN GOAL

Sir — This Government seems hell-bent on saddling the UK with hideously expensive and unreliable renewables to decarbonise the energy network by 2030. In a sobering response to the headlong rush to meet this goal (or rather own-goal) a recent report by the National Energy Systems Operator (NESO) says this is achievable, but warns that households 'must reduce peak demand' and will have to be 'more flexible' when they use electricity. In other words, its use will be rationed at certain times to compensate for when there is no wind to drive turbines or sufficient sun to feed solar panels. Like, er, during the winter when we need to light and heat our homes, as well as having hot drinks with breakfast and being able to cook evening meals. 

Despite a lofty and undeliverable manifesto promise that this move to renewables would 'cut fuel bills', has no-one in the government actually thought through the implications of putting all our energy eggs in one basket with little or no back-up? Sorry, silly question — of course they haven't. In the light (no pun intended) of the NESO report, anyone in their right mind could be forgiven for asking why Miliband and his army of net zero fanatics are continuing in their own little fantasy world and still pushing hard for electric cars and electricity-hungry heat pumps.

So stock up with candles and torches, as it seems almost certain that under this administration we will be returning to 1970s power cuts — a great political move, and a real help for already hard-pressed Brits who will be paying for this net zero dream through taxes and increased energy prices. The words lunatics and asylum slip effortlessly off the tongue.

JEFF BOYLE,

Using an oil-fired Aga and two log-burning stoves

LEKKER LAD WAS BILL

Sir — Your entertaining piece about genial Sausage King Bill O‘Hagan neglected to mention his short sojourn on the Daily Express. 

As I recall, Bill was handed a story to “sub for the spike”, a test which all would-be subs had to pass. In Bill’s case, it was a report about the Duke of Edinburgh's continuing, but unsuccessful, efforts in North Africa to catch a glimpse of the elusive Abyssinian Oryx. 

Given the gossip at the time about royal dalliances, Bill's headline PHILIP STILL AFTER ASS was not considered appropriate. He joined the Telegraph a few days later.

Bill was a true “lekker kerel” as they say in the Eastern Cape.

RICK McNEILL

STRANGER THAN FICTION

M'lud, reading the story concerning Robert Kennedy Jr's assertion that if Trump is elected he would seek to remove fluoride from drinking water. This brought to mind Sterling Hayden's towering performance as General Jack D. Ripper in the classic cold war comedy Dr. Strangelove. 

In the movie Ripper states to Group Captain Lionel Mandrake, (played with toe curling brilliance by Peter Sellers) that fluoridation is the most monstrously conceived plot you could imagine.

Now that was played for laughs, but Kennedy isn't joking. Is it any wonder that his own family are worried about him?

The movie was released in 1964, and it's now 2024 … look how far we've come.

You couldn't make it up. 

STEVE MILL

MILKING OUR FARMERS

Sir — The tax relief hammering meted out to family and tenant farms in the Budget means the Government obviously cares more about investing zillions in net zero than protecting the UK's food security. Thanks to the careful stewardship by farmers, such as hedge laying and dry stone wall upkeep, over hundreds of years the countryside remains a precious asset which deserves to be preserved for future generations.

But the urban-based Labour leadership neither understands the countryside nor cares about any of this as it doesn't fit the chosen narrative. As far as these history-blind zealots are concerned, it would suit their agenda if working family farms — and we're not talking about hobbyists with a couple of paddocks, a horse and an alpaca — were forced to flog off their fields to accommodate vast acres of solar arrays or ugly, sprawling housing estates.

Last December Defra Secretary Steve Reed assured the National Farmers Union that Labour had 'no plans' to axe tax breaks for farms, a promise he repeated during the election campaign. Similarly, while brown-nosing for rural votes during the election 'Sir' Keir Stalin said: 'Farmers deserve better.' They certainly do. But under another administration that means what it says and actually cares for farming communities — the very 'working people' Labour repeatedly promised to protect.

So for the 100-plus Labour MPs representing rural constituencies it looks like there will be no killing the fatted calf, but cowpats and slurry all round.

JEFF BOYLE (living in a proud farming community)

SEVEN PINTS TOO MANY

M'Lud, reading Hermione Orliff's account of Geoff Capes's diet reminded me of the late legendary breakfast gourmet Hugh Montgomery-Massingberd, whose appointment as obits editor was one of the few things Max Hastings got right about aiding The Daily Telegraph's declining circulation.

Hugh's obituary on the Seventh Baronet Sir Atholl Oakeley, a champion wrestler, contained an account of the heavyweight champion's meeting with the legendary Estonian grappling strongman George Hackenschmidt.

Atholl told his hero he had been greatly inspired by him and had religiously followed the diet the great man had described in his book, particularly drinking eight pints of milk a day.

The great man snorted and bellowed with laughter, then confided that it had been a misprint.

It should have read one pint.

A few years ago I was recounting the story to my then little daughter as we walked in Greenwich. She burst into laughter at the same time as I glanced through a bookshop window and saw Hugh's book of Telegraph obituaries.

I decided to buy it and opened it as we left the store.

The first obit was of the baronet bruiser.

PAT PRENTICE

THE ESSEX KREMLIN
Sir — For many years there was a modest terraced house on the banks of the River Blackwater in Maldon humorously, and somewhat oddly, named The Kremlin. The house remains but the name has changed, which seems rather inopportune given the oppressive policies of our present government. Perhaps a more appropriate name today would be Rachel Cottage.

IAN BARRATT

Great Totham

BAFFLED BY MS BEFF

Sir — As a lifelong confidante and dance partner of Joy Beffle's I thank Nick Mercill for the sentiments expressed in his letter. She is indeed unconfined, having recently moved to Dubai where she intends to carry on dancing. I will, of course, forward his letter via a mutual poet friend poste haste. 

RON BLYDOR

Waterloo

WE SHOULD BE TOLD

Sir — Regarding the letter by a person presenting themselves as an anagram of Joy Beffle, I can only say: Let Joy be unconfined. 

NICK MERCILL

POT KETTLE

Ms Handcart has dropped a bollock. She refers to ‘spring tides’ in Autumn as if that were a mistake. The naming of the tide has nothing to do with the season. Spring tides, occurring every 14-17 days depending on the sun’s alignment with the moon, are so called because they spring forth. 

R. RAMBLESHANKS (Miss)

EC4

DUBLIN DAILY EXPRESS

My Dear Lord Drone — Following Ragtime Rick’s enquiry, I can reveal that the Dublin Daily Express was founded in 1851 and was a Tory newspaper, popular with the landed gentry and clergy of Ireland. Its book reviewer was James Joyce, and the paper was the biggest seller in Ireland.

It came out against The Rebellion and condemned the support for Sinn Féin. During Easter Week, its newspaper building was seized by the Irish Volunteers.

A Dublin Express reporter recounted the recapture of the building on Parliament Street by the British Army, saying: ‘The scene of desperation and bloodshed within can be better imagined than described.’

The newspaper closed in June 1921. Not all its owners were known but the title had links to the Guinness family.

TEL BOY

Neasden Nostalgia Records Office, 

Dollis Hill.

PORTRAIT OF A PHILISTINE

M'Lud — 'Sir' Keir Stalin, ever keen to show his EU-friendly credentials, has seen fit to remove paintings of famous Britons from the walls of No10. It's understandable that he can't bear to be looked down upon by real politicians Gladstone and Thatcher, but what's his problem with Shakespeare, Elizabeth I and Walter Raleigh? The PM obviously has neither respect for this country's history, nor any interest in the arts. Doubtless he will replace the portraits with something more in keeping with his philistinic outlook, such as autographed photos of non-Brits Taylor Swift and Arsenal legends Thierry Henry and Denis Bergkamp. I think the country should be told.

JOY BEFFLE (Ms)

Anagram Antiques,

Petworth

ANOTHER FINANCIAL BLACK HOLE

M'lud, I see a story that has been simmering on the stove for quite some time is now coming to the boil.

The Serious Fraud Office is now investigating the cost of constructing a hotel and conference centre financed by the members of the Unite union. The building is valued at £29 million but cost Unite members £112 million. ( I know Unite is a big union, but do they really have that amount of spare cash? And were the membership aware of how much money was washing about in their union coffers?).

“A fantastic investment” crowed then general secretary Len McCluskey, a man who obviously kept close tabs on the project. Perhaps in around 150 years it'll have paid for itself.

Bet The Morning Star will be all over this story. 

Up the workers? Apparently right up 'em.

STEVE MILL

NICKED BY A GUNNER

Sir — This is a plea to all Drone readers to exercise extreme caution when in public — Big Brother is watching and listening now more than ever. 

Talking to my mate Wes while enjoying a pint and a smoke in the garden of The Old Crony pub, I foolishly told a slightly risqué joke, and let slip that I hated Arsenal and unnecessary apostrophes on fruit and veg stalls. Without warning four of 'Sir' Keir Stalin's thought police arrived from out of nowhere and arrested me. Within hours I was tried for 'spreading malicious humour and hatred likely to cause a serious breach of the peace, contrary to two-tier UK law' and immediately sentenced to 21 months. 

I can say no more as the screws are watching me, and I must get this letter out sharpish via an Albanian drug baron being released this week under Stalin's 'space in prisons' scheme. Any chance of smuggling in some snout?

Prisoner No 57398

A Wing

HMP Wandsworth

Lord Drone’s personal tobacconist will be in touch — Ed

STOKING THE PAST

Sir — A BBC website story “Dracula author’s lost story” refers to “the 1890 Christmas supplement of the Daily Express Dublin Edition”.

Eh? Shurely there woz no DX back then? Is this another case for BBC Verify? Can the Drone's fearless Neasden Nostalgist shed any light?

RAGTIME RICK

His mark

Tel Boy has the answer to this question, see above — Ed

ALL WHITE ON THE NIGHT

 Sir — Reading the latest Off The Spike (some of us give a fuck about nostalgia, Tel!) reminds me of Christopher Ward's first encounter with the Express composing room not long after becoming editor. I was on the stone checking the progress of the first edition features pages when Ward came through the doors wearing... a white suit. Obviously no-one had told him that light material and printer's ink don't mix, and one of the comps — unbeknown to Ward — 'accidentally' touched the back of his pristine jacket with a freshly-inked roller. I was called away to make cuts to one of the pages so don't know the outcome of his brush (no pun intended) with hot metal, but oddly enough that was the new editor's first and last visit to the stone.

Another memorable composing room event happened one night when the irrepressible Kelvin MacKenzie (who else?) single-handedly took on the composing room — and won. As Night Editor, he wanted four more pages added to the third edition. As anyone working in newspapers during the hot metal era will remember, the compositors had an arrangement that before any more pages could be added over and above the agreed pagination, extra dosh would have to be negotiated. 

I was on the stone seeing in very late 'must inserts' to a second edition slip (thanks Mr Potts) when through the doors burst Kelvin, demanding of the head printer: 'What's all this bollocks about extra cash?' He then took out a wad of 50s and 20s from his back pocket, slapped it down on the stone, and asked the composing room FOC and Imperial Father: 'How much do you want? 300 quid, 400 quid?' An awkward silence fell over the place, followed shortly by smiles and laughter all round. Kelvin's humour had won the comps round, and he immediately secured his four pages. It was a rare treat — possibly unique in hot metal history — to witness Editorial come out on top for once. 

JEFF BOYLE

AUDIENCE REACTION

Milord — The splash headline in today’s Daily Mail reports that Keir Starmer and his family were “granted a private audience” by Taylor Swift and her mother. This is repeated in the body of the copy.

Some might think that pop stars and their pushy mothers do not grant audiences. That is the purlieu of Popes, monarchs and dictators.  

Granted. Miss Swift and her mother have been treated as heads of state. What with being given a police escort to Wembley and back, but “granting an audience” to our PM?

As many of the older hands at the Daily Mail say with increasing despair these days, Paul Dacre would never have allowed it.

MICHAEL HELLICAR

BLACK BOTTOM

Sir — In Malaysia, I believe a "Lammy" is the colloquial name for a brand of bottled soft drink much favoured by the locals for its powerful anti-flatulent properties.

Of course this could be complete dingo poo, but it's time I had another letter published in the Drone.

STERCUS ACCIDIT

KNOWING DWIGHT FROM WRONG

M'lud, reading your side item regarding Shit Grant reminds me of the formidable Ida Eisenhower. At the end of WW2 Dwight Eisenhower returned to the United States and a reporter asked the no nonsense Ida if she was proud of her son, to which she replied, "Which one?"

Incidentally I recall when the Grant-Divine Brown story broke there was a rumour that Liz Hurley was hiding out at the Halkin Hotel. I worked around the corner in Belgrave Square and can remember the posse of Fleet Street's finest camped out there just waiting for a glimpse of the wronged woman.

Happy days.

STEVE MILL

CLEVER DICK

Dear Lord Drone — I do not usually make a point of highlighting typographical errors and such in my beloved Drone. However, it is so frustrating to be offered the chance in your Helena Handcart column to be invited to say what we think about our new, compassionate Labour Leader who has morphed into our Director of Public Persecutions.

For when I went to fill in the space allowed at the foot of Helena’s column today, I was aghast to find that there was none. Just a teeny blue void and a figure 1. Surely at least three pages are required.

Yours,

DICK HEAD, 

Independent Parliamentary Candidate, Fucking Give Up Party.

ANCOATS MEMORIES

Dear Lord Drone — Recently I have been reading the early content of your wonderful site and found it so entertaining. In particular the antics in Ancoats are of special interest to me as I worked in the same offices when the Daily Star moved in.

My memory was particularly jogged about a couple of very happy years I spent on features alongside former Express reporter Robert "Bob" Wilson, who wrote a book on the Moors Murders after covering the famous trial.

We had a load of laughs — not least when he renamed the Editor's Office the "Dentist's Waiting Room." That really stuck.

But about once a week we would get serious and the talk turned to medical matters. Strangely, the starting point was always the same. Blood pressure. And so was the conclusion. "If you like it you can't have it."

Happy days!

PHIL JOHNSON

TIMES SHITSHOW

Dear Lord Drone — Re: Angela Rayner buying a suit for her boyfriend from "royal" tailor Redwood & Feller. It isn't a royal tailor and no current royal has their suits made by them, though briefly it held a warrant more than 40 years ago.  Just another example of what a shitshow The Times has turned into.

Yrs

CHRISTOPHER WISLON

PS I once had a jacket made by R&F and can report Angela could have saved her baubees and bought something nicer at M&S.

LABOURING A POINT

Dear Lord Drone — I had a bad dream last night that I was given the minutes of a leaked Cabinet meeting to sub for a two-line short. It read:

From the minutes of the Labour Cabinet meeting October 5, 2024, Public Records Office.

PM: Any more thoughts on plugging the Chancellor's Black hole?

Health Minister: Walking sticks.

PM: What about them?

Health Min: Did you know two million are given away free on the NHS to the over 70s?

(Gasps and whistles)

PM: Find out the cost.

Pensions Min: But PM many people won’t be able to go out if they can’t afford them.

Home Sec: Why do they have to go out at their age? It’s cold out there.

Transport Min: True, so they don’t need bus passes either then.

PM: Good. Two birds with one stone. Anything else?

Health Min: The elderly could pay for prescriptions like we all have to.

Press Sec: Yes, and the PM has already told the nation everyone is in this together. All of us must make a sacrifice. Even doctors and train drivers.

PM: Absolutely, I will not tolerate perks in our society, we are all equal, my namesake er, Keir Someone said so. Now, how is the immigration problem going?

Migration Min: Good. The empty BHS Stores, military bases and museums are filling up nicely. Another 937 came across the Channel for immediate medical care on Saturday. 

PM: Well done everyone. Now, I must dash, I have a couple islands to give away. Anyone seen my Harrods travel bag that Dodi gave me? 

A. WHISTLEBLOWER, Dollis Hill.

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