WHIZKID: David at the wheel of his Aston Martin which he bought before passing his driving test in 1958

By ALAN FRAME

David Eliades, long time dear friend, Express foreign editor, prolific author, playwright and all-round good guy, died peacefully yesterday aged 92. His death came at lunch time near Lugano, Switzerland where he had lived for the last three years with his wife Lamar and her family.

Like his great chum Brian Freemantle, who left us 14 months ago, David had combined working on the foreign desk of the Express with writing books and plays. In Freemantle's case it was the Mail as foreign editor and spy thrillers, with David he was one half of the David Forrest name with the late Robert Forrest-Webb. They enjoyed huge success with (deep breath) And to My Nephew Albert I Leave the Island What I Won Off Fatty Hagan in a Poker Game (1969), The Great Dinosaur Robbery (1970), After Me, the Deluge (1972) and The Undertaker's Dozen (1974). 

All were very funny and in the case of Deluge, it was turned into a lavish musical which brought him an income which far exceeded the Express shilling. The Italian version, called Aggiungi un Posta A Tavola, has run without a break in various Italian locations since 1974 and celebrated its 50th anniversary in Milan two years ago with David taking to the stage. It is currently attracting sell-out crowds in Milan.

The English one, Beyond the Rainbow, played at London's Adelphi for two years in the late 1970s. And during the Falklands War the Spanish language production was a huge success in Buenos Aires. One evening he rang the producers to ask how it was going. The reply? “Very good, our boys are loving it, singing along and victory will be ours!” What Galtieri thought is unclear.

David was born in Canterbury in 1933 the son of Dimitri, a Greek Cypriot and Christos. As a Greek speaker he started on The Times of Cyprus in 1954 and reported from the island during the EOKA campaign in the 1960s and was shot but escaped with minor wounds. He then joined the Express under then foreign editor David English when we had a foreign staff across the globe of more than 30, including some of the biggest names to grace the paper. Working as night foreign editor gave him much of the day to write his books and when John Ellison retired David took over as foreign editor. 

David married his second wife, the delightful American Lamar Raine in 2015 and we saw a lot of them socially, including annual visits to the Goodwood Revival motor racing meeting, they in their classic bright yellow Porsche 911 and us in my ancient Singer Le Mans racer. Fast cars were important to him; as a 20-something he bought the rarest of the rare, a one-off Aston Martin special which a friend had to drive until David passed his driving test.

Importantly, David was a regular at our old boys’ nosebag gathering, the World's Greatest Lunch Club, which met every other month at Joe Allen until it changed hands and went to pot. On one memorable occasion our Christmas lunch was at David and Lamar's beautiful apartment overlooking the Thames in Twickenham.

He developed dementia over the last few years but was always smiling; in fact it is that handsome beam which we will all remember best.

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5 February 2026

ROGER TAVENER writes on Facebook

Never forgot how I got attacked by a furious Andrew Lloyd Webber and his umbrella ( 'Swinging in the Rain...')  after I and Downing were told to get off his Cap Ferrat doorstep immediately and absolutely make no further attempts to contact him.

These were the editor's explicit instructions after a personal phone call from the suspected love cheat —  and return to base on the first flight available.

We decided instead to stay put in the most expensive five-star joint available and go to the finest seafood restaurant in town. Sadly, ALW had decided to take his secret mistress to the same eatery. So, the rumours were true.

During a divine dinner we decided we could easily get jobs elsewhere and should stitch-up the musical asshole.

As we all left, I accidentally bumped into him and posed a few tasteless questions as he launched his rabid assault.

He screamed that we would be sacked ...

Downing's motor-drive firing away was music to my ears as the couple were drenched by rain and flashlight. Very atmospheric. Like a West End production.

Express night desk please. "David we've got a dilemma...'

Reassuringly calm he said : "Just file it. Ignore that ridiculous instruction. Give it all you've got. And get the pics here asap. Enjoy yourselves "

So we did.

We went to celebrate a scoop or the sack at a lively wine bar in the ville.

David Niven's daughter was there with her pals; another exclusive was bubbling as the champagne fizzed the night away.

On our 5.03 am return we found lovely herograms under the door from David. It was running and big. 

I managed to stay another magical fortnight.

And formed friendships which assured me of a choice of yachts to stay in whenever I was in  town.

That was being a real news editor. 

Thank you David. God bless you. X

REMARKABLE: The Eliades canon