It’s a most revealing exercise to ask people who are the most "Falstaffian" figures of recent times. Revealing not so much about the nature of the Shakespearean Falstaff as about how promiscuously applicable and shrunken the term has become. You begin to imagine that the only qualifications you now need to be called Falstaffian are a weight problem and a healthy/unhealthy appetite for food and drink. The suggestions I received ranged from John Mortimer (who is far too assiduous and knowing) to Clarissa Dickson Wright (in her hard-drinking days), taking in along the way such seemingly plausible candidates as Nicholas ("Fatty") Soames. As a crony of the Prince of Wales and a good trencherman, Soames might seem to fit the bill. The missing ingredient is the wily, never-stumped intelligence that enables Falstaff to be such a genius at escape-artistry, ever-ready with the fertile improvised excuse that, even if it does not convince, will charm his accusers into submission. Even Soames’s mother is genially willing to allow that her son is not over-endowed with grey matter. In Richard Eyre’s reign at the National Theatre, Mary Soames was chairman of the board of governors. He records in his Diaries how, after John Major had left one reception, Mary told everyone to relax and sent Nicholas off to get more drink. "As he left the room, she said, ‘He’s frightfully nice, but frightfully stupid.’ Nicholas came straight back: ‘Maasie, are you talking about me?’ ‘Yes, darling, and you know it’s true.’" Falstaff’s mama (God help her) could never have had such an exchange with her boy.

I’m not sure about the Soamester, he’s a bit of a type. Quite a human being in his own way, probably an improvement on the current crop of media friendly wankers.

The revolution will not be televised

Keep it going bud….

c