This is me, Eccles

This is me, Eccles
This is me, Eccles

Friday 27 July 2012

A day in the life of Damain Thopmson

Damian Thompson

A blood-crazed ferret

I shudder into wakefulness as my alarm clock rings (today it plays my friend James MacMillan's cantata "The Lord smote Glasgow Rangers"). Giving my teddy-bear, Benedict, a quick hug, I leap out of bed and get dressed. Breakfast is a simple affair of cupcakes and coffee.

Cristina Odone, Tim Stanley and Ed West

Telegraph cupcakes. Can you spot Cristina Odone, Tim Stanley and Ed West?

Of course on Sundays I omit breakfast and go straight to the Oratory to look for liberal and modernist tendencies in the Latin Mass, but on weekdays I go to Telegraph Towers where I hold the highly important job of Editor of Telegraph Blogs. This means that all the bloggers kow-tow to me, bring me cupcakes, and laugh at my jokes. The only person I have to fear is the Telegraph's Editor, Tony Gallagher, who is a West Ham United fan, and regularly says things like "I don't like your face, Thompson, you little squirt. Beat it!" But now I've stopped blogging on religious topics, he doesn't kick me so often.

Telegraph bloggers

One big happy family of bloggers

Like most journalists, I spend most of the morning reading the papers, insulting people on Twitter, and swapping silly jokes. But Friday is my big day, as I have to write a Saturday column for the Telegraph's distinguished readership of London lawyers and retired colonels. So I look for pictures of fat people with silly hair or strange clothes, and weave a hilarious (or as my brainy friend Tom Chivers says "an hilarious") narrative about them.

Arthur Roche

Arthur Roche, always good for a laugh

Lost sheep

The lost sheep?

My Telegraph column also provides the material for a very witty blog. It attracts comments from the intellectual elite, who post under names like GI Joe, Mahatmacoatmabag, An Aussie Carrot, Chap With Wings, Molybdenite, Cutley in Florence, Ernest Chaussette, and The Great Stalin. Most of these names are real, but I suspect that one or two may be made up!

Well, the day draws on, and in the evening there are many options open to me. Sometimes I stand outside Victoria station selling copies of my new book The Fix to commuters. "Big issue!" I shout, as I think that addiction is indeed a big issue for all of us. Many commuters agree, and some are so impressed that they give me 50p, saying "Get yourself some tea, young man," without even taking a copy of my book.

The Big Issue

Did I mention that I have written a book?

This is the book of which the great Clive James, writing in the prestigious Wallamaloo Possum-Breeder's Gazette said "Some wonderful books have been written on the subject of addiction. If you want something totally different, try this book instead." Praise indeed, I'm sure you'll agree!

Another thing I may do in the evening is go home to Notting Hill, and play one of my 50,000 CDs. I am a very cultured chap, and I have 94 recordings of James MacMillan's Orchestral Variations on Donald, where's yer troosers? Often I lie in my bath, playing games with my plastic duck, Donata, and singing along to James's immortal music.

Before I know it, it's 9 p.m. and time for bed. A quick anonymous phone call to one of my enemies (e.g. Austin Ivereigh or Johann Hari), with a burst of demonic laughter, and we've reached the end of a perfect day. Off to bed with my teddy-bear!

Benedict the Bear

Good night, Damian!


  1. Darling Eccles, a story to warm the cockles of the heart- pity yore anti moly lost hers to George. Xx Jess

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  3. life imitates art, as. Damian did in fact do a piece about an archbishop who is allegedly fat.

    1. Yup. He's done dat one several times. Next week it'll be hairstyles again.

  4. It's OK Mr. rabit, the usual dolts think I am you and are making (were it possible) even bigger fools of themselves doing so. So, you may not be there, but your shadow is so big that the pygmies still live in fear of it. I hope you and the donks are well xx Jess.

  5. darling eccles - I gather you are unwell - has anti moly been biting the hand that feeds her again? Rabies injections are painful, but may be necessary. But seriously, get better soon xx Jess

    1. Ullo, Jess. Yes, I fink I may have eaten a bad spider. Dat's de last time I lets her give me de best Pottymouth ciusine.

    2. It may have been a decayed mollusc from the decaying mollusc- fancier, so be careful darling Eccles - get well soon xx Jess