The post-punk singer Mark E Smith, who died on Wednesday, used to irritate fellow musicians by fiddling with the settings on their amplifiers mid-set, I am told by a TMS reader, Lenny Law. The roadies came up with a solution by fitting what they called a DFA (Dynamic Field Adjustment) box to Smith’s amplifiers, which they told him he could use to alter all the others. This kept Smith happy for some time, until the end of a tour when they admitted that the box wasn’t connected to anything and that DFA actually stood for “does f*** all”.
Lib Dems are weird, as is well known. In his new autobiography Lord Rennard, the party’s former campaigns director, recalls a rally in the 2001 election when a speech by Charles Kennedy was interrupted by a male streaker who had taped a large V to his left buttock and “TE” on his right. Rennard had the unenviable task of explaining to Shirley Williams why this supporter had not included the letter O.
DISTINGUISHED CLIENTELE
The oafish behaviour at the Presidents Club has led some to call for every all-male society to be banned. Most men, of course, are not like that. As VS Pritchett wrote: gentlemen’s clubs are for men who prefer armchairs to women. There were suspicions, though, about the Beefsteak, on the edge of Soho, in the 1920s. The story goes that police saw dodgy men coming and going and assumed it was a brothel. The house was raided and they found the governor of the Bank of England, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the prime minister, all enjoying the finest from the club’s cellar.
Another one for our collection. Andrew Fraser has noticed that the European Council’s senior adviser on the law is Hubert Legal, the best Apt Name in the law since Igor Judge stopped being lord chief justice.
RIGHT TO BARE ARMS
Sandi Toksvig has written a guide to good manners, one of which is always to make your guests feel they are right. She offers as an example a story told to her by the photographer Patrick Lichfield, who was invited as an impoverished young man to dinner with the King of Denmark. In those days you wore a stiff shirt front over your shirt but Lichfield could not afford both, so he just wore the stiff front under his jacket. It was an unseasonably warm evening and the king announced that gentlemen could remove their jackets. Lichfield was mortified but felt he had to go along. The king looked at him with his bare sleeves and back and said: “Good idea, you can remove your shirts as well.”
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Our series on sarcastic teachers’ reports reminded Rupert Mercer of this one that he received: “Rupert’s handwriting is much improved this term. Alas only revealing a great deficiency in his spelling.”
POETIC THERAPY
The faint sound of bagpipes and the whiff of boiled neeps that hung over parliament yesterday reminded me of the story about the health secretary who was being shown round a hospital. In one room he saw three poor souls gibbering apparent nonsense. “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley,” one said. “O, wad some power the giftie gie us to see oursels as ithers see us,” said a second. “Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie,” added the third. The health secretary asked what affliction they had, to which the consultant replied: “Oh, this is our Burns Unit.”