About the Trumpet


The Trumpet, forerunner to the Daily Drone, has been at least 25 years in its conception, but because of the very essence of Dronery with its heavy emphasis on hedonism, it has only now reached a wider public. If it had not been for the Internet one doubts if it would ever have seen the light of day.

The original Drones Club was invented by British author PG Wodehouse in the 1920s when he wrote his Jeeves and Wooster books.

The gauntlet was picked up eagerly in the early 1970s by Alastair McIntyre and a group of like-minded sub-editors on the Daily Express, a national newspaper for the United Kingdom, then based in London's legendary highway of broken dreams, Fleet Street.

McIntyre - known as Bingo to his Express chums (but not anyone else) - and his eager accomplices, although not of noble birth like their fictional hero Bertie Wooster, set about the pursuit of pleasure with  somewhat more eagerness than they pursued their journalistic careers. They burned the midnight neck-oil in the Press Club, which they turned into their very own version of the Drones Club.

Alas, as Fleet Street disintegrated with the dispersal of daily newspapers to other parts of London (some to the darkest depths of Docklands) the Press Club closed.

But the Drones of  the Daily Express were not disheartened. They ambled over to their new offices at nearby Blackfriars and  happily threw away their quill pens for electronic computing machines. These machines looked for all the world like televisions, except that the programmes to be found on them were even less interesting than the Chuckle Brothers.

Things clearly needed brightening up. McIntyre, who inexplicably had been made Chief Sub-Editor, decided that as he had a few moments to spare at the beginning of each day (which started for him at 4pm) he would pen a  daily message to the troops. This may have been a comment on the events of the day or the rising price of custard or a similar issue of public interest. Out of this there arose, quite by accident, a fictional world of make-belief a la Wodehousewith a string of characters to match.

Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the strange world of Steeple Cholmondeley (it's pronounced Chumley in that silly-ass English way.)

I thank you. Read on Macduff, there's a good chap.

Update: The Express has now moved to Lower Thames Street, near The Monument in the City of London and things, to  say the least, are not quite what they were.

(C) Alastair McIntyre 1997-2008


© 2005-2019 Alastair McIntyre