Meddling Minty stokes the fires of British fascism

[Paul Rigby]

Thanks for the clarification about the "Pole". Until that moment I had been thinking in a completely different direction (Wardour Street in fact).

I wish to make it clear that I have no knowledge of the lap-dancing establishment to which you refer; and most emphatically was not escorted from said premises on the night of April 1 for demanding the return of my expired credit card. Anyone who says otherwise will meeting my solicitor, Lex Mackem, quite probably in the Cock and Bottle public house, just before closing time. He'll leave the brown envelope under the day-old copy of the Daily Star.

Curiously enough, I have sent several MS to the difficult-to-please Anthony Gland with a view to publication. These included, but were not limited to, "Pole-vaulting: how to get your leg over unexpected obstacles", and "Toffee: does it really go soft when handled?".

Remarkable man, Tony. I had the privilege of meeting him, albeit at a time of some financial embarrassment following his unsuccessful libel action against Norman Balon, who had expelled him from his public house on the ground that the publisher was "a prize bore," in his temporary offices in Walthamstow in the summer of 1979.

I showed him my student organ, The Scouse Git, together with my cherished first manuscript, Northern Roots. His reply will stay with me forever: "What the f*ck makes you think I'm interested in a bloody history of Liverpool dentistry?"

Ah, what encouragement those sage words gave me. But I did get to see the first draft of his notorious Bookseller advert, "Put a first edition Gland in your hand..." I thought the accompanying photograph of Frankie Howard more sinister than amusing, and said so, a faux pas that prompted my immediate ejection, hotly pursued by bailiffs.

Gland's finances only recovered with the publication of what became a neo-con classic, Islam Sucks, by Yizak Krauthammer, in early 1983. Asked by Northbank presenter Arsene Blagg to recall his reaction to the first mention of this richly provocative title, Gland replied: "Lucky Mohammed." But what about the inevitable death threats, Blagg persisted. "I haven't issued any yet," replied the habitually sozzled Gland.

Alas, each submission was met with a rejection slip.

Just be grateful it wasn't a slip of the tongue. Gland really was a goat.