Читать книгу The Lost Diaries - Craig Brown, Craig Brown - Страница 43

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