I can’t think when I last came across this antiquated phrase but it is what kept going round in my head as I read Waldemar Januszczak’s beastly piece (only schoolyard language is appropriate) about John Berger in a recent Sunday Times supplement.
I was never a Berger groupie, as many of my friends were – not serious enough about the things he was serious about – but good manners alone should have stopped him in his tracks. You don’t slag off the recently dead, however much you may resent their success as Waldemar Januszczak so clearly does: not only as a thinker, writer and telly personality but – perhaps more grating still – as a man unusually attractive to women. No doubt, Waldemar would enjoy lecturing to a ‘harem of female devotees’. What man wouldn’t?
Well, my own husband, for one. I remember his lecturing with his usual animation to an audience of three, having insisted on giving a course on Flamboyant Gothic at the Architectural Association when some of the best teachers – let alone students – showed no interest in medieval churches.
But, back to Waldemar who we gave up on as a TV presenter the very first time we saw him. Like so many presenters (although few are as bulky) he kept getting in front of the work he was describing; but when he actually fell to his knees to examine a map – he looked as if he was about to eat it – we gave up on him for good.
If that sounds mean, look at his article in which he makes constant fun of Berger’s lisp. To quote: ‘I adore Rubens, but giggle at Woobens.’
How is that for serious journalism?
