Tatler's 200 'most eligible' people in Britain

Nevermind about the budget! Also, a lovely literary festival, an early Christmas rant and Dennis in a suitcase

Look, we need a bit of frivolity this week, what with the the budget and *waves hand in the air* literally everything else going on in the world. That’s why it’s jolly lucky that Tatler’s Little Black Book list is about to come out.

If you haven’t come across this list before, a brief precis: the Little Black Book list is an annual list, published by Tatler, of the 200 or so people they deem the most eligible in the country. I have experience with this list because I used to help compile it when I worked at Tatler, although the word ‘compile’ is doing some heavy lifting considering that the scientific process largely consisted of me and my colleague Tibbs chatting loudly across our desks about who we fancied. Because if you put someone you fancied on the list that meant they’d be invited to the LBB party, and if they were invited to the LBB party then the chances of snogging them were greatly increased.

I say increased. I never made this happen. I had high hopes one year when I got chatting to a former England rugby star at the bar and things seemed to be progressing nicely. But the trouble was I’d decided to wear a shiny new latex catsuit to this party, which I’d only recently bought in order to go to a fetish party for another Tatler piece (I took my job as seriously as a war reporter), and it was while I was chatting to this rugby player that I felt water running over my hands. It wasn’t water. It was sweat, my own sweat, unable to escape from anywhere else under my catsuit and emerging via the wrists, cascading over my fingers. I went home quite soon after that.

Me and my colleague Pip, before I started gushing (🥵) from my wrists and I had to go home, dangerously dehydrated, and drink 34 litres of water

Still, the LBB list continues and this year’s line-up is about to land. The top 10 have already been revealed and it’s as gloriously bonkers as ever. Trinny and Susannah’s daughters - Lyla and Esme - in joint position at number one, followed by Jude Bellingham, a princess, a lord, a lady, the youngest female MP and a 19-year-old who collects antique coins. Quite the bunch.

After choosing who we were going to put on the list, the next absurdity was writing their entries. Because each person on there has to have their own little bio explaining who they are. Honestly, we used to write things like this: ‘Clever clogs Archie Barbour-Le-Chameau graduated with an A in Polo from Eton last year. His party trick is farting his family motto and his favourite food is custard and peas. Has a thing for paperclips.’

I wrote my brother’s entry once. (I didn’t include him because I fancied him. We’re not all like that. It was a joke because I knew he’d hate being included.) Here is his entry: ‘Got himself ordained last year so he could marry his two best friends at Burning Man. Likes dressing up as Henry VIII and reading books about Napoleon.’ You see? A genuine entry about a member of my own family. Maybe those people on Twitter who say we should have had a revolution in this country in order that my family were marched to the guillotine have a point?

Still, it’s a laugh, isn’t it? I don’t think anyone should be too po-faced about it. Silly, undoubtedly, but what harm is a bit of silliness every now and then? Especially atm. Just please don’t be down-heartened if you’re not on Tatler’s list when the full 200 are revealed this week. Whenever I read any list in ANY publication - whether it’s London’s 100 most influential people, the 99 best lipsticks money can buy, or the 437 hotels you have to stay in before you die - I often think ‘That’s probably a load of nonsense the writer’s made up because they’re on a tight deadline or they were given a freebie.’ I don’t wish to shatter anyone’s illusions about hotels or lipsticks, but that is often the way.

Alternatively, in this case, they’ve been included because someone wanted to snog them. Although occasionally the guests we wanted to come to the LBB party didn’t even show up. One year, we were aiming for Pippa Middleton and got Nancy Dell’Olio, who was absolutely charming but not quite as thrilling for the photographers.

Picture of the week

Sorry, this is slightly cheating because the picture’s been up on my Instagram already and I’m not sure of the etiquette regarding this. If I’ve stuck something up on social media already can it also be pic of the week here? Except it is MY Instagram and MY Substack so maybe I can be a daredevil and break my own rule?

Get on with it, Sophia.

Right. This is the magnificent comedian and actor Helen Lederer and me, after I interviewed her at the Petworth Literary Festival on Saturday. You may know Helen from things like Bottom or Ab Fab or even Celeb Big Bro. I’ve known her for a while because a few years ago she launched a prize - the Comedy Women in Print Prize - which celebrates funny female writers, and one of my books was longlisted for the award (although not shortlisted, I noted audibly on stage on Saturday, before scrabbling to say it was nice to be included at ALL. Which it was).

Anyway, Helen was a babe - chatty and funny and HONEST about all sorts of things, including coming up as a female comic in the 80s and 90s, her weight, never feeling like she’s really made it, and Rik Mayall, who was apparently v good in bed. (I don’t mean to lower the tone, but I don’t think Rik would have minded me mentioning this? And anyway, course he was good - he was Lord Flashheart. Here you go, some bonus Flashheart content below to cheer everyone up this Tuesday morning.)

Sometimes, when I’m doing interviews on stage like this, I’m worrying about the next question and keeping the conversation flowing, or whether the audience will have any questions or we’ll have that awkward thing of nobody sticking their hand up and I’ll have to think of something else, and so on and so on. Are we being funny enough? Am I asking the right things? Are the audience having a nice time or are they just thinking about what to have for dinner when they get home?

Also, a few years ago at another literary festival, I read an extract from my second book where my heroine is doing a pregnancy test and accidentally wees on her hand. I hadn’t properly considered this extract beforehand and it clearly horrified some members of the audience, who didn’t laugh at all, although there was also an old chap in the front row who’d already fallen asleep, so luckily it didn’t horrify him. But I’ve been a bit daunted by literary festivals ever since. My chat with Helen, however, was a joy. She goes very firmly on the Good Egg list.

Recommendation of the week

1. Thank you to the kind and helpful reader who last week recommended The Assassin’s Cloak, an anthology of the world’s greatest diarists. It’s brilliant - a great big fat book which includes funny, moving, sad etc diary entries from the likes of Pepys, Beatrix Potter, Warhol and, er, Goebbels to name just a very few. You get the Titanic news via Sir Tommy Lascelles’ diary, and updates on WWI from Kafka (‘Germany has declared war on Russia. Swimming in the afternoon.’). You get pithy observations about the Royal family from Roy Strong, intimate details from Barbara Pym about her peach-coloured undies, and both Virginia Woolf and Tony Benn on their attempts to cut back smoking.

‘Bought a horse which I don’t need at all,’ writes Tolstoy, on 25 January 1851. ‘Gandhi has been assassinated. In my humble opinion, a bloody good thing but far too late,’ writes Noel Coward on 30 January 1948. In 1988, Richard E Grant is terrific about being in Hollywood and being sent a vast room service sandwich, ‘that must have taken four grown men to prepare.’ Kenneth Williams and Alec Guinness seem to vie for bitchiest entry throughout.

It’s wonderful. A good one to dip in and out of and even though it was published four years ago, I think it would make a very winning Christmas present if you’re the sort of slightly intimidating person who’s already started thinking about those...

2. Also, Trump: The Criminal Conspiracy Case. This is a new and very thorough 90-min BBC2 documentary, which examines Trump’s attempts to overthrow the results of the 2020 election campaign specifically in Georgia, a swing state then and still a swing state again this time round. Watch it HERE.

I cannot tell a lie - this documentary isn’t *quite* as jolly and diverting and easy to follow as, say, Rivals. It is fiendishly complicated in some parts and felt a bit like the TV equivalent of reading a John Grisham novel - you know someone’s doing something dubious with the law but you’re not exactly sure what. Still, ahead of the big day next Tuesday, it was a useful watch and helped me understand a bit more about the political details of January 6, which is good because VERY THRILLINGLY I’m flying to the States tomorrow morning for the election.

I say this quite grandly, as if I’m being sent by the BBC as their top political correspondent. It may not surprise you to learn that I’m not being sent to America by the BBC as their top political correspondent. I’m going to Miami tomorrow for a couple of days and then to Palm Beach to stay with a pal who lives five seconds from Mar A Lago, purely because I wanted to be out there for the big week. I will probably be writing about this in some form or other, but don’t expect much high-level analysis on voting margins or electoral colleges. All I really want to do is get into Mar A Lago and take a selfie in the gold loos. That’s the kind of insightful political content you’ll get from me, with any luck.

The handy thing is, if you watch this documentary, it also means you can sound informed and potentially a bit smug and pretentious in any/all of the conversations you have about this topic for the next week or so. Worth sitting through it for that alone, potentially?

Nonsense of the week

I went early and bought a bag of Quality Streets for me and Mum over the weekend (did you know you can get bags not tubs now? You can, fyi). I say early because we’re not desperately close to Christmas, which is obviously Quality Street-season, but they were in the Co-Op, so I thought why not? If they’re in the shops, it’s time. And I’d much rather a Quality Street than a Hero or a Celebration. Don’t get me started on Roses.

The only trouble is, because the wrappers have changed and become all papery, it’s extremely hard to tell what’s what. So I picked out what I thought was a caramel one only to discover it was an orange creme. I don’t mind orange cremes. I know some people have strong feelings towards them, but I’ll have it if you don’t want it. Still, if you’re after caramel it’s a shock to the senses to discover you’re eating an orange creme instead. The trouble is, the wrappers are almost identical - a sort of orangey, yellowy colour - so I’m just offering this as a warning to proceed with caution this Christmas. Recyclable wrappers: good for dolphins and turtles; less good for humans who have strong feelings about chocolate.

Also, there was just a single measly purple one in the entire bag. Which felt pretty stingy. ‘It’s always a bit sad when you get down to the fudge isn’t it?’ said Mum, rootling in the bottom of the bag when only the pink ones were left. Yes, get rid of the boring old pink fudges, please, and give us more purple ones.

PS. Bonus Dennis

Packing has become a more fraught process in the past few months because SOMEONE has realised what the sight of a suitcase means. So as I flung various bits and bobs into my bag last week, Dennis clambered in and made a nest for himself. (Sorry you’ve also got a disgusting pair of pants and whopping great big bra in the shot too, but I can’t do much about that now. I don’t know why I think Miami is the appropriate place for an extremely old pair of M&S knickers, but you never know when you might need a comfort pair, do you?)

Dennis will be staying in Sussex with Mum and Beano while I’m away because I didn’t think he’d enjoy the election much. Do dogs forget you in 10 days? I’m hoping not. I’ll bring him back a souvenir. Probably not the below though, which is a genuine item you can buy from the Trump 2024 site, should you be interested. I wrote last week about taking a dim view towards coats for dogs. I think we take an even dimmer view towards people who foist their political beliefs on their pets, don’t we?