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[/audioplayer]Plans are afoot to introduce the Flashman novels, those politically incorrect celebrations of cowardice, bad form and caddish behaviour, to a new generation of readers. But according to Sarah Montague on the Today programme, ‘Flashman is not typical of our times.’
Is she correct? I can think of quite a few latterday Flashmans off the top of my head, such as Fred ‘The Shred’ Goodwin, whose knighthood had to be prised from his cold Scottish fingers. Not only did Fred keep his pension millions when all about him were losing theirs, he also had an extramarital affair. And the other day a photograph went viral showing a ‘touchline father’ tripping up a teenage player who was about to score a try against his son’s team. Or consider Nigel Farage, another classic Flashman on account of his shamelessness. Every embarrassing revelation about his party he simply laughs off, and thereby bolsters his reputation as a lovable rogue.
I think my favourite contemporary Flashman, though, is Rupert Everett. Actresses are terrified of working with him because he is always so bitchy and indiscreet about them afterwards. Julia Roberts ‘smelled vaguely of sweat’, Sharon Stone was ‘unhinged’ and his best friend Madonna stopped speaking to him after he called her ‘whiny old barmaid’.
David Beckham, meanwhile, is the bookies’ favourite to be named ‘gentleman of the year’ by Country Life magazine next month. The real test will be whether he accepts it or not. A true gentleman would have a dilemma: on the one hand he would feel it immodest to accept, on the other he would consider it impolite to the organisers and the judges not to.
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