NO INVITATION? FUCK ‘EM

Sir — I see that a So-called Columnist (see below) is hosting a fantasy soirée with a guest list which includes all sorts through the ages, from Beaverbrook to a Molly Parkin manqué. I query Handel (wot, no Mozart!) and someone called Toto (nice plug though, Keemo Sabe). Most revealing is the inclusion of Liz Truss which, I suspect, is a fevered reminiscence of Matron saying: ‘Now cough, Frame minor.’ Still, as I haven’t been invited, fuck ‘em. 

HERMIONE ORLIFF, Mr

DAISY OPENS HIS LUNCH

M'lud, I have a vivid memory of being in the Hickey office on the first day of Compton Miller's editorship. He and his team had enjoyed a long lunch, (I think we can take it for granted that strong drink was involved ) and settled down to write their copy. 

So far so Fleet Street. As the afternoon wore on it became obvious, (and boy did it become obvious) that there was a developing conflict between Richard's lunch and his digestive system and this conflict inevitably escalated to open warfare. The result being that at regular intervals Richard would break off from editing, turn his head to the right and deposit a portion of his lunch into a handily placed waste paper bin. 

The staff adopted a 'keep calm and carry on' approach, except for Hickey

veteran John Roberts. Every time Richard felt another song coming on poor John would jump up and exit the office at a rate of knots. 

 Why Richard didn't simply visit the Express first aid department when he began to feel unwell only he could explain, but it being his first day as editor I guess he was determined to carry on regardless.

 I can't recall who the Hickey secretary was at that time but whoever it was had my sympathy because they were far closer to the 'action' than I was!

 At that time the Hickey page had it's own office in Aitken House so I don't know if anyone apart from those present in the office had any idea of the unfolding drama. 

Those who witnessed would never forget. 

 STEVE MILL

DAISY’S LADY

I was a down-table news sub on the Evening News, fresh in from the provinces, and I remember someone asking Richard if his mum called herself Mrs. Miller or Mrs. Compton Miller. He replied: “Actually, she's Lady Compton Miller.”

I still makes me laugh nearly 50 years later. RIP Richard.

RICHARD McWILLIAMS

FOXED …
M'Lud — I find it hard to reconcile the fact that trail hunting is so cruel to animals that it must be banned, but halal and kosher slaughter are quite acceptable to the party of Queer Stalinmer.

Yours, FREDDY and FERDIE FOX,

Nutwood,

The Black Lubyanka,

EC4Y 1HT.

OLD HAT

My old and dear friend Tel Boy talks of me as straw-boatered and wearing shiny suits. While I confess to donning a Panama at a jaunty angle in high summer, I discard any suitings from my extensive wardrobe if they show the first signs of becoming shiny through excessive use. My old school abandoned the boater in the 1950s and even Dulwich College, alma mater of that great Man of the People Nigel Farage, no longer features them.

As for this country needing another Churchill, we do indeed but only a Churchill as he was during WW2. As our peacetime prime minister post war he was hopelessly out of touch, still behaving like the Edwardian aristocrat he was. Boris Johnson thought he was his reincarnation but sadly, like most of Johnson's character, it was pure fantasy.

As a gesture of goodwill, I am sending the fine patriots of the Neasden Terminus a bottle of brown ale so they may celebrate the birth of Our Lord. I shall be keeping the post-lunch peppermints to myself. 

Yrs,

FRAMBO

WE NEED ANOTHER CHURCHILL

Dear M’Lud, it is with great despair that I have been democratically elected to speak on behalf of a meeting of what your straw-boatered columnist, Mr Alan (Flip Flop) Frame describes as the so-called English headbangers in the Neasden Omnibus Company canteen, in his attack for their apparent support of Nigel Farage and control of our borders.

Churchill’s death in January 1965 cast a dark shadow, the beginning of an end to pride and patriotism in Britain. Instead, it has been replaced by a series of stoney-faced gargoyles chipping away at the very spirit of our nation and the opening of a door to radicalisation of us all. Even our dear friend Mr Frame, known for his shiny suits, gentlemanly softness and tip-toe politics secretly knows that.

Now even Churchill’s statue seems to have been erected for urination and our dear Union Jack flutters like a red flag to a raging bull in our own society and our courageous armed forces are dismantled to danger point.

Parliament no longer reflects the will of the people. Starmer branded Boris a liar over a piece of cake and then came to office and lied over his manifesto.  Soon no doubt he will call a vote over the vote we had on Brexit.

As the majority shout and scream at their TV sets every time they see another boatload of uninvited foreign guests wade ashore, courtesy of Starmer’s reinforced Border Farce, landlords boot our own people on to the streets, where the unemployed now wait shivering in tents.

It is no wonder the lads and lasses of the Neasden Omnibus Company and all patriotic Brits call for a Churchill. To rise and lead us with personality, guts and determination. Make us proud again. A bit like Trump, whether we like it or not.

After lunch peppermints all round please, Mr Frame.

TEL BOY, political cupboard, 3rd floor canteen, Neasden Omnibus Company, Dollis Hill, the old London. 

ANOTHER NEWS AGENCY TO CLOSE

Just rediscovered the Drone! It’s brilliant, amusing, rueful and sad all at the same time..

The Anglia Press Agency — launched in the early 70s by Daily Sketch man Geoff Cooper and photographer Martin Gilfeather (Express) — is about to quietly slip away.

(You will have doubtless chronicled the rapidly increasing decline of our trade. The National Association of Press Agencies once represented the top 20 agencies  in the country. I doubt half a dozen of the originals are left…)

When Geoff and Martin announced to colleagues 50+ years ago that they were quitting to set up an agency  in East Anglia, baffled colleagues asked: “Why are you going out there?  You never read any stories from there..”

“Exactly..” was their reply

Kind regards

RICHARD GOSS

TRIAL BY JURY

M'Lud — In the absence of the familiar hordes of young and old semi-pro campaigners blocking London streets in protest against whatever's in fashion, or, indeed, a disapproving murmur from the Human Rights industry, I trust you have commissioned The Drone's mighty columnists, with their proven influence on major Government policy, to give us their opinions on what I genuinely think is the greatest scandal of our turbulent times.

I refer to the impending loss of the 1,100-year-old rights of the English to trial by jury, later underlined in Magna Carta.

My own opinion of magistrates' justice was formed 66 years ago and has remained, unchanged. I'd just started at the Newcastle Evening Chronicle and was learning about the law courts running copy for, and under the aegis of, a great reporter and lovely man called Joe McKeenan.

At Gateshead magistrates' court the press box was carved with legend The Pen Is Mightier Than The Truncheon which I thought funny. “I wish that was true more often”, Joe told me. “But in truth, Terry lad, the law of England is that every man* is innocent until he comes up in a magistrates' court.”

In truth I honestly think this savage axing of basic law is a sea change for our country, brought about by a hard-of-thinking Justice Secretary and, God help us, Deputy PM who couldn't be bothered to turn up to defend it in the Commons. He sent in an apparently brain-dead junior with all of 18-months experience as an MP to stonewall objections.

So In The Drone We Must Trust

T. RYLE

c/o St Jude's NW11 until the emigration papers come through.

*Joe was no misogynist. It was just the expression at the time. I know he would have specifically included women if challenged.

VICTORY FOR HITLER

M'lud, report suggests a landslide election victory for Adolf. The Metro details that Adolf Hitler is set to retain his council seat...in Namibia. No not a distant relative of Der Fuhrer, it's actually the unfortunately named Adolf Hitler Uunona, 59. As you'd expect he's an anti-apartheid candidate. Back in 2020 he won 85% of the vote, Doubtless it was all transparently democratic. 

Adolf, (poor sod) said his father named him after one of the 20th century's greatest monsters but 'probably didn't understand what Hitler stood for'.

Presumably Adolf's father was also unaware that pre-Nazi German colonial settlers attempted to exterminate an entire race of people in what is modern day Namibia. 

What an idiot.

STEVE MILL

27 November 2025

PARLIAMENT’S SINISTER UNDERCURRENT

M’Lud, it is not often that I get stuck into the political affray, but our dear pal, Drone columnist Richard Dismore, hits the nail of Labour's coffin right on the head this week, when he highlights the plight of ordinary people as we get blown along like tumbleweed to the Doomsday Budget.

What new breed of socialism are we living with today when Labour MP Cat Eccles tells the voters that the Home Secretary is just "trying to appease the electorate" with her tough plans to stop illegal immigration?" Just pandering to populist opinion.

My God! What is so wrong about listening to the view of the majority of voters, who pay her nearly £100,000 a year? 

MPs like Eccles who are deaf to the fears, hopes and aspirations of the majority of voters, are part of what is wrong with parliament today. It has a sinister undercurrent.

The hypocrisy of it all. How can we forget that Prime Minister Starmer, who spent months calling Boris Johnson a liar over a slice of Victoria sponge, went on to lie about nearly every manifesto promise he made to get himself and fruitcake Eccles elected to power. 

Mostly on a Stop The Boats ticket. 

Yours,
TEL BABE,
Neasden Omnibus Democratic Preservation Society, Works canteen, Dollis Hill. 

SAD DECLINE OF THE EXPRESS

My Lord, I read the Drone’s report on alleged plagiarism in the Daily Express with mounting anger and sadness. Clearly, Reach bosses no longer care whether their papers are brought out with integrity or accuracy. Most of the professionals have left the building.

Veteran music and showbiz journalist Garry Bushell, 70, took to Facebook to announce that he had been “prematurely retired” from his job as editor of the Sunday Express Review pages.

Alongside his valedictory piece, he posted a Review cover featuring an interview with Ray Davies, of The Kinks. Alas, there was a word missing in the standfirst. It read: “Ray Davies tells Garry Bushell why he’s still proud of his first big hit with the Kinks and how he can’t wait to back on stage”.

It’s a sorry Waterloo Sunset on the career of A Well Respected Man. Meanwhile, those with any pretensions to journalism remaining on the Express must be wondering Who’ll Be the Next in Line.

Respectfully yours,
DICK DISMORE

EXPRESS INSURANCE

Dear M'Lud — I was reading the interesting piece by Steve Mill of our parish, about the Express insurance certificate he has found in his files. This was an idea dreamed up by our founder Arthur Pearson in 1900 and lasted for many years. It was extremely popular. 

You can buy these certificates on eBay and other sites for around £4.50 a copy. Pearson was known to be an ideas person and was behind most promotions during his ownership. 

I did a piece on the insurance coverage some time ago in the Drone, and take this opportunity to bemoan the fact that in my view, Express Newspapers, was not a good caretaker of the title's history archives in many different areas, particularly letters and cuttings and other memorabilia. 

 Best,
TERRY MANNERS

PUTTING THE HIC IN HICKEY

Sir — It was only after we helped Lord Frame of Ludgate into a taxi that we started to count the bottles (his column yesterday). 

Contrary to his recollection, our lunch table consumed six white, five red, four pink, six sharpeners, three Babychams, a Cointreau with an umbrella and several barmaid's aprons.   

Fleet Street's drinking spirit lives on and we tolerate no whitewash. No Wokery!

Yours, foaming at the mouth,
(Ld) WISLON of ULLAGE

PS  Our lunch calls to mind the Mirror's Peter Senn, El Vino recidivist,  who at chucking out time floated down the Street to Blackfriars Tube and stuck his head through the grille.

"How can I help, Sir?"

"Larjesh ginntonic, my man, make it snappy, traintocatch"

7 November 2025

LEVESON FALLOUT

M'Lud, Some time ago, towards the end of the Leveson Inquiry, a Met police drinking acquaintance began to make it clear that he was not comfortable being seen in my company.

He always seemed to be on the other side of the pub, and nervous if I approached him.

I also knew his brother and, through him, convinced the caring copper that good men should not be nervous of association, because bad ones often were not.

He was uneasy about Leveson's fracturing of links between journalists and police because publicity was often vital in solving crime.

But more than the Leveson fallout, what really angered him was the effect of having to pursue old alleged child abuse cases, whilst current ones were being overlooked.

Traumatised victims of famous people like Jimmy Savile were being encouraged to come forward. Merely proving that they had been in his company would probably be believed.

And there was money in it — compensation — even though in the eyes of the law Savile would always be innocent because he would never stand trial.

(I didn't follow up on my offer to buy him a "Jimmy Savile is innocent" T shirt.)

More than once, he became quite irate about cases of current alleged child abuse being overshadowed so that ghosts could be chased.

Vulnerable young people were being abused in the present, he averred.

He darkly wondered if there was another agenda.

Years later come claims of grooming gang cover-ups in London boroughs on the precarious grounds of not disturbing community relations.

Khan you believe that?

PAT PRENTICE