My generation will be the last to still associate Fleet Street with newspapers. Perhaps this explains my recent bout of hunger for books about the halcyon days of print journalism.
I liked this account far more than I expected, in spite of itself - Hastings isn’t as enlightened as he seems to think. (Veronica was heavily pregnant with her first child, but she assured me that she would only need to take a few days off to have the baby in April and so indeed it proved.’) His main fault as a writer is smugness and a pathological immunity to doubt. I don’t think many rival newspapers actually thought Saddam Hussein’s Republican Guard would trounce any invasion force single-handed, as Hastings claims. When Hastings spiked a piece that clashed with his own editorial, the writer did not take it ‘sweetly’, he took it volcanically, and is still known to curse Hasting’s name in public today.
Luckily the book’s strengths compensate for its flaws. It is efficient, clear, and uses facts cleverly. When the time came for the Tories to equip the 1st armoured division for the Gulf War, ‘it proved necessary to strip Rhine Army of tanks and fighting vehicles, because so much of the armour displayed on Britain’s order of battle was non-operational for lack of spares.’ This reputation for putting an inconvenient fact over ideology incensed Bernard Ingham (Thatcher’s press secretary), who took Hastings to task for his ‘vicious disloyalty.’ If that isn’t at least one good reason to gulp this heady, informative brew down, I don’t know what is.