The people of 1923 thought that ours would be a beautiful age where men curled their hair and women blackened their teeth. These are a few of the predictions from the newspaper archives dredged up by the academic Paul Fairie. In fairness, 100 years ago they correctly thought we would communicate via our watches, but were wrong in thinking we would be donning kidney cosies. Sadly, radio has not replaced petrol and we don’t work a four-hour day, but it is comforting to know that rumours of the demise of newspapers are nothing new. They thought radio would have killed us off by 1973.
• From The Times, on this day 100 years ago: ‘Expectations of a longer life’
In trying to predict what 2023 will actually be like, I turned to politicians’ horoscopes. I began to doubt astrology when I saw the forecast for Boris Johnson. It says: “Your goals are based on your values and morals, and you aren’t into doing anything unethical even if it puts you ahead of your competitors or gets you the fame, success and power that you desire.”
Don’t pass me by
At 87, Hunter Davies, the Beatles biographer, is taking a swipe at internet dating but views his first rendezvous with trepidation. He tells Saga magazine that he has given all his details, but that she hasn’t given him her name, age or photograph. “I am not sure why I’m going to see her when I know so little about her,” he says. She’s only shared one piece of personal information, but this single detail is irresistibly attractive. “She is a retired GP,” he says. “That would be handy. Getting an appointment these days is hellish.”
A new book on British rhythm and blues, called Rock’s Diamond Year, has a story about Billy Connolly, pictured, being driven home from a gig in Putney by his mate, singer Ralph McTell, only for them to get completely lost. “For f***’s sake, Ralph,” Connolly observed. “You wrote Streets of London!”
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The hell with heroes
The writer Rob Hutton has launched the A Pod Too Far podcast, where he and economist Duncan Weldon review their favourite childhood war films, but what he thought would be a fun hobby has proven double-edged. Now he is a struggling author, Hutton looks at Alistair MacLean, Frederick Forsyth and others who wrote his favourite works and calls them “bastards”. “They’re in that category of hugely successful authors who go on about how much they hate writing books,” he says. “They all seem to have given an interview at some point where they say ‘I only wrote this because I had a tax bill’.” It’s a bit rich for Hutton. He still hasn’t written Where Eagles Dare, and he can only dream of having a big tax bill.
The director’s cut
Last week I reported a University Challenge question about Marxist literature and the name of Britain’s biggest trade union, which amusingly saw Jon Baird, the film director, giving the last word of The Communist Manifesto as “Aslef” instead of “Unite”. Rather than taking comfort that this raised many a smile, Baird tells me he thinks the piece had insufficient context and wants readers to know that, actually, he got more points than anyone else — an individual score of 35 (four starters and a five point penalty) in Aberdeen’s modest 115-85 victory over UCL. Of course, by pointing this out, he only serves to get the gaffe published a second time.
