Gyles Brandreth’s Diary
I had an intimate chat with Miss Puerto Rico – about mining
I had an extraordinary experience the other day.
I found myself in a room with 112 of the most beautiful young women in the world and I had to pretend I hadn’t noticed. The room was the Great Room at Grosvenor House in London’s Park Lane. The beautiful creatures – women in their late teens and early twenties – were the international finalists in the 2019 Miss World competition and guests at a charity ball at which I was saying a few words.
Like you, I’d assumed Miss World had died yonks ago, killed off by political correctness and the laudable advance of feminism. Not so. Miss World is not on TV in the UK as it used to be, but across the globe it’s still going strong, with Julia Morley, now 80, still very much at the helm. She brought the 2019 pageant to the O2 in London in December. This year’s final, the 70th, will be happening in Thailand.
As the cavalcade of beauties (all tall, tanned, shapely and clad in elegant, if disconcertingly revealing, evening gowns) descended the principal staircase, I sensed every man in the room thinking the same thing: ‘We can’t applaud; we can’t cheer; we certainly can’t show our appreciation with a well-aimed wolf whistle. We have to pretend this isn’t happening.’ These dazzling beauties were the elephants in the room.
Miss Mexico told me, ‘We don’t wiggle any more and we don’t wear swimsuits, but we hope we are good ambassadors for our countries.’
They certainly are. At dinner, I sat next to Miss Puerto Rico (my eyes locked firmly onto either my plate or her forehead) and learnt a good deal about the challenges facing her country’s mining and manufacturing sectors and the problems inherent in the fluctuating price of avocados. She said several charming things to me about my speech, but I felt unable to say anything to her in case it might be misinterpreted as a compliment or endearment of any kind. At the end of the evening, I ignored her proffered cheek and shook her robustly by the hand. Funny place, this woke world, eh?
Will Rogers (1879-1939) was a funny man. Silent-film star, comedian, cowboy and columnist, Rogers is credited with saying, ‘I want to die like my grandfather. He was a bus driver. He passed away peacefully in his sleep – not screaming like his passengers.’
Dame June Whitfield (1925-2018) was a funny lady. When asked whom she would least like to meet when she was on holiday, she replied, ‘The people we thought were looking after our house and pets.’ She was also a true professional. Unsurprisingly, her death, just after Christmas 2018, was the death I imagine we all want. She called up for a seasonal chat on Christmas Eve. She spent a happy Christmas and Boxing Day with her family. On the next day, she went to bed as usual and didn’t wake up. That’s the way to do it. June got everything just right.
As James Hughes-onslow reports on page 46, at her recent memorial service at St Paul’s, Covent Garden (‘the Actors’ Church’), a plaque was unveiled in her memory. It sits alongside the plaque that honours her friend Richard Briers, and just below a cabinet that holds a handsome silver tea caddy containing the ashes of the great Victorian actress Dame Ellen Terry.
The remains of another formidable theatrical dame are buried beneath the altar close by. Dame Edith Evans is best remembered, of course, for her portrayal of Lady Bracknell in Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. The vicar of St Paul’s told me that in due course he plans to have his ashes placed alongside Dame Edith – in a handbag!
Have you discovered podcasts yet? I have – and how! Last year, with my friend Susie Dent, the lexicographer who sits in Dictionary Corner on Channel 4’s Countdown, I launched a weekly podcast all about the joys of the English language.
We call it Something Rhymes with Purple, because podcasts are supposed to have quirky titles and because, surprisingly, something does rhyme with purple. To hirple is to walk with a limp.
Our podcast has enjoyed more than a million downloads to date. If you fancy giving it a go, just open up your computer and type in our names and the podcast’s title and you should find it. It’s free and it’s fun.
We explore old words and anatomise new ones. We also have a word jail in which we imprison phrases we can’t stand. We’ve recently locked up ‘reaching out’ and ‘personal space’.
Susie is younger than me and consequently closer to the snowflake generation and more aware of their sensitivities. Even so, I think she was as alarmed as I was to read the right-on wording now recommended for use when you’re having to break bad news to millennials: ‘Are you in the right headspace to receive information that could possibly hurt you?’