In an earnest piece (Ghastly man, January 19) Polly Toynbee has registered her own views on the sad death of a humorous journalist a few days ago. "We might let Auberon Waugh rest in peace," she sighs, "were it not for the mighty damage his clan has done to British political life, journalism and discourse in the post war years." This was illustrated by a lightly coloured pen drawing of my father's corpse being sluiced down a lavatory, in much the same way as one might expect pee, paper (of a certain sort) and other matter, to disappear on a daily basis. Regular readers, who respect the Comment and Analysis pages, may have thought that the illustration was to be taken equally seriously as Ms Toynbee's high-minded and heartfelt article. Rest assured.
Auberon Waugh's "clan" does not intend to compound the mighty damage it has already done to this country by disposing of his body in this unhygienic manner. We shall ensure that all health and safety regulations are observed when the great man is buried in Somerset on Wednesday.
Alexander Waugh
Milverton, Somerset
•If Auberon Waugh were already in his grave, he would be spinning with joy over my old friend Polly Toynbee's vicious, class war assault upon him. He used to love her attacks. But this one is something else. It is so intemperate, so boorish, so reeking in hatred of all those who dare to question Toynbee's own orthodoxies, that I think Bron would see it as a real classic.
Toynbee describes one of the targets of Bron's attacks, Grey Gowrie, as "cringing" because he praised Waugh as "the greatest journalist of my generation". Might one dare to suggest that Gowrie shows rather more sense of humour, generosity of spirit and less of a thin skin than Polly does ? She assails "the old world of El Vino's wine bar in Fleet Street where leftwing lambs and rightwing lions downed their differences in bottles of champagne". Puzzling this, because one of the greatest of the quaffers there was Peter Jenkins, Toynbee's late, great and beloved husband, a superb quondam columnist for this paper. I don't think he would have seen himself as either a "leftwing lamb" or "rightwing lion". In trying to construct the Waugh "coterie" that has inflicted so much damage on Britain, she ignores the point made in most of the obituaries that there was (alas) no one else like Bron. Even she is forced to admit that among his so-called "clan" he was "unique" for his anti-Americanism and support for the European Union. Unable to face the serious arguments against how "Europe" now works, Toynbee instead abuses anyone against the EU as positing "a brave little England of crusty-living upper-class eccentrics". But was it "upper-class eccentrics" who created "the spirit of anti-Europeanism" that Toynbee acknowledges "pervades" the country ? Of course not. Perhaps the mass of ordinary people understand realities better than ivory-towered Toynbee. We should all be grateful. Bron must even now be waving a faxed copy of this tirade at St Peter himself, the better to establish that he really does deserve admission. Alas, poor Polly.
William Shawcross
London
•Well said, Polly Toynbee. I too have been astounded by the posthumous glorification of a man whose snobbery and ignorance did incalculable damage to literary life in Britain.
When my first novel became a bestseller, I was invited to lunch at the Literary Review and seated between Waugh and another braying fogey in a tweed jacket. Conversation was a severe challenge to my social skills. My book was full of filthy sex, they assumed. Not as filthy as all that, I replied; a book club sale had just been agreed on the basis that the work was within acceptable norms of eroticism. Envy flashed green around the table. Did I know a book club could add 10,000 to sales? How many had been ordered? I had to admit to 80,000 copies. They fell silent. Having spotted their concern for traditional values in worship, I tried to float the issue of the hymns sung at school assemblies. It seemed that these men of letters did not waste their intellect on talking to their children. Another silence. Waugh launched a fresh attack and demanded to know why I continued my job as a television critic despite my literary success. I cared about television, I answered. But the pay must be terrible, he argued. So now I could afford to do the job, I explained. Waugh and his crony swiftly moved to comparing their earnings from journalism. The crony earned twice as much as Waugh. Silence now endured to the end of the meal, when I committed the final outrage of thanking the cooks. They shuddered with distaste and never asked me back. The tacky, phoney elitism which this coterie promotes has driven our best writers out of the country and poisoned the atmosphere of our intellectual life. It's time they got the contempt they deserve.
Celia Brayfield
London
•Waugh may have had his failings and annoying eccentricities but he gave unstinting support to amateur poets. He awarded very generous prizes (provided by sponsors) in the Literary Review poetry competition. Many a struggling rhymester will remember him with affection.
John O'Byrne
Dublin
•My immediate reaction on hearing of Waugh's death was to punch the air and exclaim "good riddance!" But Polly Toynbee's reply to all the sickly and sycophantic obituaries put into words exactly how I really felt about this vile man.
Eamonn Duffy
Welwyn Garden City, Herts
