Sparklers and squibs
Justin Marozzi
AN AUDIENCE WITH AN ELEPHANT AND OTHER ENCOUNTERS ON THE ECCENTRIC SIDE by Byron Rogers Auncm, £12.99, pp. 260, ISBN 1854107860 For anyone unfamiliar with his work, it must come as some surprise to learn that Byron Rogers is one of the finest writers in the British press'. Admittedly, this revelation comes only from the dust-jacket of his book, where untruths are a way of life.
In any case, the alarm bells sound before one even turns to the dust-jacket. Is it wise to advertise oneself, or one's work, as eccentric? Those who do are invariably nothing of the sort. It is debatable, anyway, whether a professional Welshman is eccentric, or merely a bore, but the early empha
sis on Wales in this collection of previously published newspaper and magazine articles is a little heavy going.
Fortunately for the reader, Rogers soon turns to more promising material. There is an amusing piece on his part-time career as Prince Charles's speechwriter, a sinecure that was promptly terminated when Rogers started writing open letters in the press, first to the Princess of Wales, then to Prince William, in which he drew unflattering parallels between the British monarchy and the decline of the Merovingian kings of France.
Attending a college reunion at Oxford, Rogers gives a wonderfully observed account of a roomful of 50-year-olds meeting for tea in the Master's Lodge — 'walking round and round each other like strange dogs' — which recalls P. J. 0' Rourke's riotous Harvard version in Holidays in Hell.
There follows a rich assortment of potted local histories, churches, collectors and families. Rogers has a magpie's eye for colour wherever he travels and the dialogue is consistently hilarious. Sometimes, one wishes for something a bit more substantial, for some essay-length journalism, if that were possible, but it's not that sort of book. This is a light-hearted romp, a collection of gobbets, the sort of Christmas present which quickly finds its way into the toilet.
The author is at his best in a section called 'Heroes% in which he meets a small cast of British eccentrics. These are the real thing, thank heavens. First we have the 80-year-old triathlete who has competed in 19 marathons and 100 triathlons. Surrounded by far younger men on expensive, high-tech mountain bikes, the former chartered accountant makes his debut on a 1925 Raleigh Popular he calls Beelzebub — complete with shopping basket — and keeps his teeth in the saddlebag.
What about Terry Tyacke of Trowbridge, the indefatigable collector of A-levels, whom Rogers interviews shortly after his 22nd exam. in Physical Education? The grades could be better — six E's and eight D's — but, as Tyacke observes, 'Never mind the quality, see the width.' Rogers notices a history exam paper with a question about the Catholic Emancipation of 1829 and the Irish Question. 'Don't ask me anything about it,' says the A-level collector. 'I revises at the last minute and when the exam is over I forgets the lot.'
My favourite was the 16-stone professional public eater, a tattooed titan of a man whose claim to fame includes such distinctions as scoffing 18 fried eggs for 1.100; downing a yard of ale in 4.9 seconds: drinking 76 pints in 16 hours and munching the odd light bulb and champagne glass. His notoriety led to invitations to the World Haggis Championship (lib 10oz of haggis in 49 seconds) and even to a stint as a professional beer-drinker for a German lager firm. It didn't last long:
They wanted me to set records only when and where they told me, but as I said to them, 'If it goes down, mate, it goes down.'
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