The Naked Civil Servant (1968)
One afternoon, wrapped in a filthy dressing gown and seated by my asthmatic gas fire . . . the front door bell rang. . . my visitor was Mr. O'Connor. . . I think he must by now have written The Memoirs of a Public Baby and the instant fame that this book had brought him had introduced him to the BBC's Third Program He now worked for it.
. . . he asked if he might bring in his tape recorder. When I gave permission, . . he thrust a microphone towards my astonished lips and said, 'Say something about life and death.' . . I spoke and spoke and spoke.
Mr. O'Connor returned to my room a few days later with his boss and, when I had added a few peroratory phrases, my contribution to the program was considered complete.
I never heard what I said to the world because I do not listen to radio broadcasts. . . but I know that at least one person listened because, long after the entire incident was closed, I was told that a publisher had said that I ought to write a book.
The publisher in question was called William Kimber. . . Further more he promised that, if I would write a two-thousand-word synopsis of my autobiography, he would read it.
Even a little of my life proved too much for Mr. Kimber. He wrote me a very courteous letter praising my frankness but added that he felt that, if he published a book founded on the incidents I had described, he wound be bombarded from all directions with libel suits.
Late in my career as a model, . . I took to working in the home counties. . . I traveled thither in a railway carriage stuffed to the brim with art masters.
To them I told my tale of woe. . . One member of my audience was a man who, I am told, now rules Maidstone but who was then only a hireling. . . 'Kimber!' he exclaimed, . . 'I think you can do better than that. I have my spies,' he added, ' and I will put them out.' . . Within a few days I was introduced to my first literary agent, . . He submitted what I had written . . to Messrs. Jonathan Cape and in no time at all I was given a contract and £100.
I nearly fainted.
By the time the book had come out I had received, I think, about £300.
I wanted my autobiography to be called My Reign in Hell. I was convinced that, after turning the first few pages, readers would agree that I had closely followed Mr. Lucifer's example by refusing to serve in Heaven. This title was rejected and, from a few random ideas, The Naked Civil Servant was suggested by an incident described towards the end of the book.
In spite of all the care lavished upon my book, it could not be described as a wild success. . .Ultimately I believe that, with a hideous struggle, the hardback edition of The Naked Civil Servant sold out its edition of about three thousand, five hundred copies. . . The failure or success of the book was, however, not the point. What mattered was that another chunk of the wall against which I had for so long been leaning had given way.
About a month after my autobiography was published, I was interviewed on television for the first time.
. . . he asked if he might bring in his tape recorder. When I gave permission, . . he thrust a microphone towards my astonished lips and said, 'Say something about life and death.' . . I spoke and spoke and spoke.
Mr. O'Connor returned to my room a few days later with his boss and, when I had added a few peroratory phrases, my contribution to the program was considered complete.
I never heard what I said to the world because I do not listen to radio broadcasts. . . but I know that at least one person listened because, long after the entire incident was closed, I was told that a publisher had said that I ought to write a book.
The publisher in question was called William Kimber. . . Further more he promised that, if I would write a two-thousand-word synopsis of my autobiography, he would read it.
Even a little of my life proved too much for Mr. Kimber. He wrote me a very courteous letter praising my frankness but added that he felt that, if he published a book founded on the incidents I had described, he wound be bombarded from all directions with libel suits.
Late in my career as a model, . . I took to working in the home counties. . . I traveled thither in a railway carriage stuffed to the brim with art masters.
To them I told my tale of woe. . . One member of my audience was a man who, I am told, now rules Maidstone but who was then only a hireling. . . 'Kimber!' he exclaimed, . . 'I think you can do better than that. I have my spies,' he added, ' and I will put them out.' . . Within a few days I was introduced to my first literary agent, . . He submitted what I had written . . to Messrs. Jonathan Cape and in no time at all I was given a contract and £100.
I nearly fainted.
By the time the book had come out I had received, I think, about £300.
I wanted my autobiography to be called My Reign in Hell. I was convinced that, after turning the first few pages, readers would agree that I had closely followed Mr. Lucifer's example by refusing to serve in Heaven. This title was rejected and, from a few random ideas, The Naked Civil Servant was suggested by an incident described towards the end of the book.
In spite of all the care lavished upon my book, it could not be described as a wild success. . .Ultimately I believe that, with a hideous struggle, the hardback edition of The Naked Civil Servant sold out its edition of about three thousand, five hundred copies. . . The failure or success of the book was, however, not the point. What mattered was that another chunk of the wall against which I had for so long been leaning had given way.
About a month after my autobiography was published, I was interviewed on television for the first time.