The Lost Diaries. Craig Brown

physique – wiwya just look at that arse, laze and gennulmun – but you are a positive GENIUS at we-invention. Like, one moment you are, like wolling naked on the sand in just a wimple, then you toadly we-invent yourself and for the next album you’ve toadly we-invented yourself and this time you’re wolling naked on the sand – in a cowboy hat! Bwilliand!

      MADONNA: I don’t stick to the programme. I reinvent myself.^* I, like, play with the whole concept of adopting different personas as a means of, like, playing with the whole concept of different personas. By, like, reinventing myself. As a whole concept. Like, I wanted to wake people up to the whole notion that people get hurt in wars. By appearing naked in a gas mask I wanted to say, like, people wake up, war is such a negative concept.

      JONATHAN ROSS: But then you withdwew the vidjo.

      MADONNA: Sure. I withdrew the video because by then the war had started, and I wanted people to, like, get behind the whole concept of war, and wake them up to the more positive notion that war could actually stop more people getting hurt.

      JONATHAN ROSS: Smashin’! Fand-asdic! Tellyawhat, that Guy Witchie’s a lucky bloke! Fwankly, I wouldn’t mind givin’ you one in my dwessing woom later! Less heary for Madonna, laze and gennulmun – and the gwatest tits in the histwy of poplar music!

       February 6th

      Today, I almost lost count of the minutes I spent researching the story of Queen Victoria. I sat in the hushed atmosphere of the Royal Library for what seemed like an hour. A few minutes later I left with an overwhelming sense that the story of the young Victoria would make a wonderful film – a film she would undoubtedly have made herself if only she’d had the contacts.

      The more I researched her, the more I became aware that poor Victoria had never once appeared on television or radio, had never agreed to guest on a chat show, and had never even attended a Royal film premiere! It’s so easy to take these things for granted, but I wanted to truly understand what it felt like to be deprived of these necessities.

      

       SARAH, DUCHESS OF YORK

      I have two tape-recorders, one newer and more capable, the other older and more experienced. For security reasons, I never leave them in a room together, but I have often wondered how they have behaved when they are alone. So simply by way of experiment, I place the two of them together in my office having first – quite unknown to them –placed a third tape-recorder in an upper drawer of my desk with the ‘Record’ button pressed on.

      The results are fascinating. For three hours, not a single murmur! Or were they tipped off by the third tape-recorder, as a result of some sort of nod-and-wink from the powers that be? I’ll investigate further next week. A fourth tape-recorder may well be needed.

      

       TONY BENN

       February 7th

      Poor, dear Hughie Trevor-Roper. I really couldn’t feel more desperately sorry for him. One always held his scholarship in such high regard. But now his reputation has been smashed to smithereens by his over-hasty authentication of the so-called ‘Hitler Diaries’. Oh, deary, deary me! It makes one want to weep!

      On the other hand, what good would weeping do for poor, absurd, fallen Hughie? None whatsoever. Far better for him that we should all laugh out loud, and join in all the fun at witnessing a once-revered colleague falling flat on his silly face. It’s what he would have wanted.

      When the mirth has begun to subside, I pick up my pen and write a letter to poor old ruined Hughie, offering him whatever help I can give. ‘I see that my local “branch” of Victoria Wine is advertising for a junior sales assistant, no experience necessary,’ I venture. ‘Do let me know whether this might be up your street – a friend in need, etc, etc.’

      And with this, I help myself to another consoling glass of first-rate champagne. Infinitely agreeable.

      

       A.L. ROWSE

       February 8th

      It had been a hugely successful tour. Once again, the Canadians had shown that they loved Queen Elizabeth and she had shown she loved Canada.

      ‘I have never known anyone who could wave half as brilliantly as Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother,’ recalls a close aide. ‘She had this extraordinary ability to hold her right hand up in the air and then –and this is where the real skill comes in – to move it, with amazing delicacy, very gently from side to side. And she really could do that for literally minutes at a time. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it.’

      Another onlooker found himself entranced by her singular ability to combine this skill with another. ‘I remember looking at her in her carriage. She was already performing that outstanding wave – it literally radiated sunbeams from its epicentre – when it suddenly struck me that she was also doing something else, equally remarkable. Yes, she was waving – but at one and the same time she was also smiling!’

      And by all accounts, that smile was the most perfect smile the world had ever seen. ‘I don’t know how she does it,’ one courtier confided to his diary, ‘but it has something to do with her mouth. Somehow she manages to raise both ends at the same time. As if by magic, she creates a smile, and she then holds that smile for several seconds and turns her head, so that everyone can see it. I have never seen such selflessness and generosity. The effect is transcendent. In the shadow of that gracious smile, I have witnessed entire nations moved to tears of consummate joy, peace and understanding.’

      By the time Queen Elizabeth arrived back from her tour of Canada, the Vietnam war had been brought to an end, world trade was prospering once more, thousands of patients had been cured of their illnesses, and Britain was enjoying a glorious heatwave.

      Once again, Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother had smiled her way into the hearts of the people. ‘It’s so very thrilling,’ she confessed in a letter to Queen Mary. ‘The little Canadians simply ADORE me!!!!’

      

       WILLIAM SHAWCROSS ^*

      Day 18,295 in the Big Brother house. 11.27 a.m.: Aisleyne and Imogen are in the kitchen.

      AISLEYNE: How long we been in here then?

      IMOGEN: Where?

      AISLEYNE: Here?

      IMOGEN: Here?

      AISLEYNE: Yeah. Here.

      IMOGEN: Fifty years, babes.

      AISLEYNE: Fifty fuckin’ years?

      IMOGEN: Yeah.

      AISLEYNE: Oh. Right. I gotta do something about these hair extensions.

       February 9th

      My father always said that one can never do without common sense in matters great as well as small. He never let anyone in his shop who had not first handed over their shoelaces to my mother at the door. In this way he sought to put an end to petty pilfering. ‘No one can run far without their shoelaces,’ he once said as an elderly lady crashed to the floor, a bag of stolen flour bursting beneath her arm. My father was a man of firm principles and firmer forefinger. Aged ten, I asked him why, when serving the smoked ham, he made a point of placing his right forefinger on the scales. He explained it was to give the customers better all-round service, by helping them pay that little bit extra for quality produce. ‘A finger on the scales is a penny in the till,’ he explained, and it is advice that I have treasured ever since.