When will these self-appointed nannies of the broadcasting mafia realize that what the British people want, at the end of the day, is a bit of relaxation and a bit of fun: not to be ‘educated’ by some bearded prig of a critic introducing three hours of one-legged mime from Bulgaria.
Roll on, deregulation, I say, if it means more power to the viewer’s elbow and more of our favourite shows with the likes of Brucie, Noel and Tarby.∗ (∗NB subs please check these names)Meanwhile, next time you find that the only things on the telly are one of those boring documentaries about Peruvian peasants, or some incomprehensibly ‘arty’ film (with subtitles, of course), remember that there’s always one ‘choice’ they can’t take away from us.The choice to reach for that ‘off’ button and head down to the nearest video store! — ‘Plain Common Sense’, November 1988
‘What the hell are you watching now?’
‘Bit late, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve been working, actually.’
‘Oh, spare me.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You are so fucking transparent, darling.’
‘What is this rubbish, anyway?’
‘I don’t know, some game show. One of those hearty, down-to-earth pieces of entertainment you’ve been extolling in your column lately.’
‘I don’t know how you can watch this crap. No wonder you’re so in tune with the brain-dead morons who read your paper. You’re not much better yourself.’
‘Do I detect a little post-coital tetchiness, by any chance?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’
‘I don’t know why you keep shagging Nigel if it just puts you in a bad mood.’
‘It gives you a thrill to think that, does it?’
‘It gives everyone on the paper a thrill, I should imagine, since you’re not exactly discreet about it.’
‘Well, that’s just marvellous, coming from you. I suppose getting blow-jobs from a temp, in your own office—with the bloody door open—I suppose that counts as discretion, does it?’
‘Look, do me a favour, will you? Just fuck off and die.’
From Hello! magazine, March 1990
HILARY WINSHAW AND SIR PETER EAVES
Husband-and-wife team are so happy with baby Josephine but ‘our love for each other didn’t need strengthening’
Maternal love shines out of Hilary Winshaw’s eyes as she lifts her giggling, one-month-old daughter Josephine high in the air in the conservatory of the happy couple’s lovely South Kensington home. They’ve waited a long time for their first child — Hilary and Sir Peter were married almost six years ago, when they met on the newspaper which he continues to edit and for which she still writes a popular weekly column — but, as Hilary told Hello! in this exclusive interview, Josephine was well worth waiting for!
Tell us, Hilary, how did you feel when you first saw your baby daughter?
Well, exhausted, for one thing! I suppose by most people’s standards it was an easy labour but I certainly don’t intend to go through it again in a hurry! But one glimpse of Josephine and it all seemed worthwhile. It was an amazing feeling.
Had you begun to despair of ever having a child?
One never quite gives up hope, I suppose. We’d never been to see doctors or anything, which was perhaps silly of us. But when you’re with someone who feels so right for you, when two people are as happy together as Peter and I have been, then you can’t help believing that your dream will come true in the end, no matter what. We’re both a bit starry-eyed that way.
And has Josephine brought you even closer together?
She has, yes, inevitably. I only hesitate to say this because to be honest with you I find it hard to see how we could have been closer. Our love for each other really didn’t need strengthening.
The baby seems to have your eyes, and I think I can even make out a bit of the Winshaw nose, there! Can you see much of Sir Peter in her?
Not yet, really, no. I think babies often grow into a resemblance with the parent. I’m sure that’s what will happen.
Does this mean you’ll have to take a break from your column for a while?
I don’t think so. Obviously I want to spend as much time with Josephine as possible — and, of course, Peter was able to offer me pretty good terms for maternity leave. It does help if your husband is also your boss! But I’d be loath to let my readers down. They’re so loyal, and they’ve all been so kind, sending cards and so on. It really restores your faith in people.
I must say, as an avid reader of the column, that it’s something of a surprise not to find the builders here!
I know — I do tend to go on about it, don’t I? But we’ve had to have such a lot done recently. This conservatory’s new, for instance, and so is the whole of the extension with the swimming-pool. It took even longer than expected because the neighbours were so beastly about it. They even took us to court over the noise, would you believe. Anyway they’ve moved now, so that’s all been amicably resolved.
And now I believe we’re about to discover yet another side to your talents.
Yes, I’m currently working on my first novel. Several publishers have been bidding for it and I’m pleased to say it’s coming out next spring.
Can you tell us about the subject?
Well actually I haven’t started writing it yet, but I know it’s going to be very exciting, with plenty of glamour and romance I hope. Of course the nicest thing is that I can write at home — we’ve put in this dear little study overlooking the garden — so I don’t have to be away from Josephine. Which is just as well, because right now I don’t think I could bear to be parted from her for a moment!
Hilary stared malevolently at her daughter, watching her face crumple as she gathered breath for another scream.
‘Now what’s the matter with it?’ she said.
‘Just wind, I think,’ said the nanny.
Hilary fanned herself with the menu.
‘Well can’t you take it outside for a while? It’s showing us up in front of everybody.’
Once they’d gone, she turned to her companion.
‘I’m sorry, Simon, you were saying?’
‘I was saying we must think of a title. A single word, preferably. Lust, or Revenge, or Desire, or something.’
‘Well, can’t we leave that to their marketing people? I’m going to have enough trouble writing the bloody thing.’
Simon nodded. He was a tall and handsome man whose slightly vague exterior masked a sharp business sense. He had come highly recommended: Hilary had chosen him to be her agent from a shortlist of seven or eight.
‘Look, I’m sorry the auction was a bit disappointing,’ he said. ‘But publishers are really playing safe at the moment. A few years ago six figures would have been no problem at all. Anyway, you didn’t do too badly. I read recently that the same people paid some new writer seven hundred and fifty quid for his first novel.’
‘Couldn’t you have pushed a little bit harder, though?’
‘There was no point. Once they’d gone up to eighty-five thousand they weren’t going to budge. I could tell.’