Tuesday April 10, 1979

_.  Jim Rawnsley insists that the so-called Yorkshire Ripper is none other than the Earl of Harewood, our ugly royal opera fanatic. Jim's theory is that he [the Ripper] has to be a member of the Royal Family in the tradition of Jack the Ripper, of Victorian London, who undoubtedly was Edward, Prince of Wales. I smiled at all this as we journeyed to Leeds because Jim expounds his theory in such a charming and amusing way. Wouldn't it be marvellously embarrassing for the YP if this was so? Whilst the fiend was in the boardroom swilling gin and humming along to Wagner with Gordon Linacre, forty thousand journalists are scouring the county searching for clues. Sadly, the identikit mug shots of the supposed mad man bear no resemblance to his Lordship. Another likely candidate, according to Jim, is Brigadier Kenneth Hargreaves, the former Lord Lieutenant of this charming, picturesque county.

I am enraged and spitting blood at the bloody civil servants strike, which is affecting the payment of my national savings certificate. I need £120 in May [to pay for my holiday] and things don't look very bright at all. The pigs wouldn't be on strike at all if only this country had the proper leadership. What are we coming to, for God's sake?

I have been reading my journal from five years ago and do you know I seem to have been more intellectual and mature than I am now. Writing about Napoleon III and his social policy I was. Blimey, it's quite frightening but I've already forgotten most of my history and Napoleon III means little or nothing to me now. Is my brain rotting away?

Mum and Dad went off to see Marlene and then Mabel after tea. They say they will lend me the £120 until my national savings money arrives.

Sue is full of cold again and her nose is glowing like a furnace. Pete arrived and we watched the Academy Awards on TV.

-=-

Monday February 20, 1978

Phone calls from Carole and Jacq. I'll deal with them in alphabetical order. Carole says she's not feeling too well and has headaches. She is 'dis-engaged' from Peter Fogarty ~ and it's over once and for all. She is going back to hospital. God Bless her.

Jacq phoned. She's pleased I'm able to go to Gina's wedding. I tell her a letter is in the post. She has managed to get an application form for Ladbroke's. She will be staying at a Youth Hostel in Hanover Square, Leeds, until she can lay claim to a flat. We joked about coming to live in the centre of Leeds when the Ripper is running free, but she says things can't be any worse than in London.

Walter Sickert.

On Feb 7 I had a chat with Speed about the original Jack the Ripper and today Mum says that a programme on the BBC has said very much the same: i.e that the Duke of Clarence married a prostitute and had a daughter, who married (Walter) Sickert, the painter, and that the 'ladies' who knew of this liaison and child were 'done away with' by the 'bloody, hand-shaking Freemasons'. I really must have a word with Speed tomorrow and see what he actually knows. According to Mum Queen Victoria's physician had the poor 'Duchess of Clarence' shut away for life, and that he too was in on the murders. This of course implicates the dear, old Queen-Empress.

Nothing much else. It's diabolically cold. The south of England is having an Ice Age and we're not much better off up here. Older people walk around saying 'Oh, it's just like 1947' and younger ones say 'Oh, it's just like 1963'. All quite boring. Sheep are being buried alive. Edith's son, Kenneth, is buried in the drifts at Newton Abbot.

See TV again. 'Jeremiah Johnson' starring Robert Redford, &c. Dame Marie Rambert is 90 today.

-=-

Tuesday February 7, 1978

New Moon 14:54.  Shrove Tuesday.

Duke of Clarence.

Frantic day at the YP. Had an interesting conversation with the cartoonist 'Speed' about Jack the Ripper. He says that the Freemasons did away with the prostitutes to cover up the fact that the Duke of Clarence had married a prostitute - and a Roman Catholic one at that - and that a child had been born of the union. He went on to say that the baby, a daughter, grew up to be the image of her grandmother Queen Alexandra, and like HM was as deaf as a post too.  Very interesting and quite laughable.  I do like old 'Speed'. His theories on many topics are never without large loopholes and are always open to comment.

Jack the Ripper.

'News at Ten' were filming in the office today for something in connection with the activities of the current (Yorkshire) Ripper. One of the victims wrote to Malcolm Barker three and a half years ago complaining about the conditions of foster children in Leeds and now she's on a mortuary slab. Fame for the EP once again.

News: Builders have unearthed Kign Henry VIII's palace of Bridewell in Fleet Street; Lady Sarah Spencer's first christian name happens to be Elizabeth; its's Shrove Tuesday and I had six or seven pancakes for tea. More details later.

News from YTV. Yes, they've rejected my application. I am unaffected by it and suffer no damage to my ego. The loss is purely YTVs.


-=-

Monday July 4, 1977

Lynn wakes me at 7.30 thinking I'm in the office today but the weather was so nice I decided to stay up and take it all in. With the breakfast things cleared away Susan and I leaped out into the sun where we basked until lunchtime. At lunch Mum says John has been acting strangely and has demanded that the money I owe re Maria's catalogue be delivered to him this afternoon. He said something to the effect that "Michael never pays up on time". __________________________.

Self: scalped ...

Went to Leeds where I was scalped. The shortest haircut I have had in years. 82F reads the YP thermometer too. Bloody hideous heat. From Leeds I went to Bradford for 5 o'clock and met Martyn and WH Smith's. We went to see Denise and I told her about Carole. She enquires: "Do you like her again now?" Like her? I positively loathe her at this moment and wouldn't speak to her again but for the fact she has one of my better shirts in her collection. Denise didn't seem overjoyed to see us.

Martyn and I adjourned to 'The Queen' for a few much needed lagers and then got the bus home. My visit to Bradford wasn't all that necessary but I enjoyed it all the same. I'm going to phone Miss Phillips tomorrow and give her a large piece of my mind. At this moment in time I could make Jack the Ripper look like Joyce Grenfell.

-=-