A classic English obit of a classically English fellow, William Donaldson, a sexual compulsive who, under the pseudonym, Henry Root, wrote famous people hilarious letters of sympathy, reproof and sheer right-wing nuttiness, many of which were politely responded to. Root’s persona was a kind of John-Derbyshire-meets-Hugh-Hefner. He loved twitting the self-righteous:
He had an unerring eye for the approach which would rankle most with his recipients. Writing to Harriet Harman, then of “The National Council for so-called Civil Liberties”, he began: “I saw you on television the other night… Why should an attractive lass like you want to confuse her pretty little head with complicated matters of politics, jurisprudence, sociology and the so-called rights of man? Leave such considerations to us men, that’s my advice to you. A pretty girl like you should have settled down by now with a husband and a couple of kiddies.” If she must work, he continued, she should consider a career such as “that of model, actress, ballroom dancing instructor or newsreader”, before enclosing a pound for her to buy a pretty dress and urging the future MP to get in touch with “my friend Lord Delfont”.
No evidence of a reply. He was also the producer of the first British concert given by Bob Dylan. Some might brag about such hipness, long before Dylan was famous. Not Donaldson: “He [Dylan] was sitting in my office one day when I came back from lunch. I couldn’t get rid of the fucker.”
The Dish 