Tristram suggested having another go, and cutting some of the anti-mother stuff out. When she had finished the second draft and she let everyone read it, we found to our surprise that her mother was now mentioned nowhere in the book.”I am cutting her out completely to get my own back,” she explained.”This may be obvious to your mother when she reads it,” Tristram said, “but it may not strike the average reader.”"Damn the average reader,” said Ursula.”I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Tristram “They buy your books.”That was then. Back to the present.”So, do unknown people ever write their own life story?” said Ursula.”Sure,” said Tristram. “James Herriot was an unknown vet who wrote his own life story. Margaret Powell was an unknown retired domestic servant who wrote her own life story They both became famous for the sparkling stories they told Margaret Powell was never off the TV for many years James Herriot was wiser. He was never on the TV.”"Why is that wiser?”"Because if you’re a vet,” said Tristram, “there’s nothing worse than having a cow, up whose behind you’re about to put a gloved hand, turn round and say, ”Ere, haven’t I seen you on the telly?’”We laughed dutifully.”But there must be lots of people who are unknown and write their life story and still remain unknown,” said Max, who is our resident showbiz figure. ( He was an impressionist who was very good and on the verge of fame when he lost his temper during an appearance on The Basil Brush Show and attacked the wily fox physically.

He never worked on television again.)”Oh, sure,” said Tristram. “Lots of rural bobbies and royal chauffeurs and country auctioneers who think that their stories will sell. But it sometimes happens that people who are very famous write their life stories, and the books are so bad that the authors actually lose their fame and become obscure.”"I can’t think of anyone like that,” said Max.”Well, that proves it!” said Tristram triumphantly “They’ve been forgotten already!”We laughed again. You never know with Tristram whether he is uttering a deep truth or making a joke, so we generally play safe.”Actually,” said Tristram reflectively, “even stars who have done a lot find it hard to get their life straight.

Do you know the story about Marlon Brando and his autobiography?”We all pleaded not guilty.”Well, apparently he delivered the manuscript and the publishers read it through and found none of the kiss-and-tell element they’d hoped for. So they got on the blower to him and said, ‘Look, Marlon, where are the sexy bits we expected for our money?’ And he said: ‘What sexy bits?’ And they said, ‘Well, all these gorgeous girls you acted with – weren’t there ever any passionate episodes? What about that film you made with Ursula Andress, for example? Did you and she ever… you know?’”‘I get you,’ said Marlon, and he rang up Ursula Andress and said to her, ‘Hey, you know that film we made together? Well, when we were filming, did we ever… you know?’”There was a pause.”Marlon Brando never made a film with Ursula Andress,” said Max.”It may not have been Marlon Brando,” said Tristram.”Whoever it was, is that story true?” said Ursula.”In an autobiography lesson, that is the unforgivable question,” said Tristram, and brought the class to a premature end for the day
More from Miles Kington.

Once, at a theme park in the American Deep South, I was persuaded to venture on to a roller-coaster called something like Death Ride To Armageddon, and as I sat in my seat anxiously waiting for the thing to start, a young man came round to check that the safety bars were properly in place “Have y’all been on this coaster before?” he enquired I said no He grinned. “Y’all are going to be terrified,” he said, his face aglow with happiness. “It’s scarier than hell.”

Once, at a theme park in the American Deep South, I was persuaded to venture on to a roller-coaster called something like Death Ride To Armageddon, and as I sat in my seat anxiously waiting for the thing to start, a young man came round to check that the safety bars were properly in place “Have y’all been on this coaster before?” he enquired I said no He grinned. “It’s scarier than hell.”
Bracing ourselves for the Herefordshire winter has been an experience similar to waiting for Death Ride to Armageddon to start, with some folk around here queuing up to tell us what a nightmare it can be.