The Indy is making a big thing out of the rudery in Kenneth Williams' diaries, shortly to go on exhibition at the British Library. This is hardly news. It would be easier to name the people not on the wrong end of a Williams insult. I know of only two: the late Hugh Paddick, whom it seems everybody loved, and Maggie Smith, happily still with us, the one woman Williams admired.
And surely it is justifiable to criticise the longueurs in the work of David Lean.
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