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From The Times

April 19, 2008

Yes, Coren is back. Alas, it's the wrong one

What would the Sage of Cricklewood say about this column?

Giles Coren

This is the first time I have written a column here since my father died. I had rather thought, when it happened, that I wouldn't do one again. That it would be disrespectful to have his name - Coren - appear on the op-ed pages of The Times, and it be somebody other than him. Some impostor.

I worried that sturdy chaps in the Home Counties - chaps who were perhaps on holiday when he died, never saw the obits, just assumed he was having a rest - would hear on the grapevine that Coren was back and turn greedily to the comment pages, thinking the Sage of Cricklewood was here again with his magic bag of wossnames, narmeans, impossibly long first sentences and talking animals with extreme opinions about community policing, and be terribly, terribly disappointed that it was only me.

And then there was the problem that writing anything now, knowing that he isn't going to read it, seems strangely pointless. He just thought I was the best. Everything I wrote was, to him, brilliantly observed, hilarious, a return on the punitively priced education he wrote most of his words in the 1980s to pay for. A good joke from his public school-educated son about the Battle of Maldon or Milton's unpublished limericks, was, to him, terrific value for money.

But who else gives a toss? Who else is going to phone me every Saturday morning around 9am (first expressing surprise that I am asleep and thus missing the best part of the day) and tell me I'm brilliant? And then, when I say “review or column?”, reply: “both”, and list the jokes he particularly likes, and ask if I wrote about eating poached pigs' brains specifically so as to put him off his breakfast?

My mother will call, of course (it was often she who called before, but there was always him in the background shouting, “Tell him I did that joke in Punch 30 years ago!”), and I'm not saying that impressing her is any less important. But my mother was impressed by tiny poos I left in the potty 36 years ago. She's not what you'd call a tough crowd. And, for all her qualities, she's not the funniest columnist who ever lived. She's not the person I think of every time I write a sentence, and wonder if he'd have done it differently, funnier, better, or just the same.

So I thought I'd just stop. It made me teary-eyed to think of the sombre way in which I would tell the Editor of The Times that I was hanging up my column as a mark of respect for my dead father. It would be a manly and moving thing, like when they retired Maradona's No 10 shirt.

But then last week my mother phoned because she couldn't make the lawnmower work. The grass has started growing again for the first time since he died, and he couldn't abide an untidy lawn. So when the gardener failed to show up she decided, for the first time in 45 years, to mow it herself. But she didn't know about the “dead man's handle” safety feature. Only the dead man knew. And me.

So I went round, pressed the button to release the dead man's handle on the dead man's lawnmower, and began to mow.

Now, my father was a tidy man and always mowed perfect stripes in his lawn. Looking out of the big, arched landing window in Cricklewood, I used to watch him on Saturday mornings with his shirt off, in his Wrangler jeans, pushing the big old two-stroke rotary mower up and down, up and down, stopping to fill the tank occasionally, sometimes hitting a pebble and swearing loudly, and then going back over the ruined stripe to make it straight.

So I was aware of the pressure to perform. To mow as well as he used to. As I pushed his mower up and down his lawn I realised my mother was watching me. I dropped the lever and called to her, over the whiz of the fading blades: “I can hear him now shouting, ‘You call that a f****** stripe?'.” And she said, “No, he'd be very pleased.”

So there's the thing. I didn't do it all that well. I didn't do it the way he would have done. The stripes were a bit wobbly, and I might have scalped the turf in a couple of places. But the lawn got mowed. And the mower got put back in his shed where it belongs. And I decided I might as well start writing the column again.

Obviously, he won't be phoning me this morning. But that's cool. I know what he'd say if he did. He'd say: “I read the piece, Jig. It's great. Good joke about the potty. But leave out the mawkish stuff now. They pay you to be funny.”

Hard for you to write, Giles, but elegantly put. The pater was the principal example of his time to all humourous people (can't just say 'Englishmen') and you are already a chip therefrom. You won't be LIKE him; he wouldn't want that, but you'll be a legend in your own lunchtime! Bravo!

Victor Brumby, Streatley, Berks.

Was a huge fan of your fathers over 30 years - Punch etc and thought him the funniest writer in the English language I know.

As a tribute it was spot on. Funny, poignant, Absolutely delicious and if it wont embrrass or offend, thought I could have been reading the old fellow. Brilliant.

Ian Burnham, Andover,

Every generation needs a Coren! Your Father belonged to my parents generation, but you are the Coren for mine.

I don't read your columns or reviewsat the weekend, but keep them for a monday morning because I know they will make me laugh, and I really need SOMETHING to look forward to on a monday

Kiri, London,

Sad, funny and magical Giles. We miss Alan but love you too.

Lucy Morgan, North London,

Welcome back, Giles - you are a chip off the old block and will grow into your father's shoes, and yes, he will approve, he won't want the talent you inherited from him going to waste or is it waist? Lovely piece about the English breakfast!

Christine , London, UK

Welcome back Giles, you've been missed.

You must assume your Father's mantle and it will become your own - the biggest complient and thanks you can give him for endowing you wih his talents.

Good luck!

Christine , London, UK

Loved your dad's stuff, and I love your stuff. And you know he'd have been furious if you'd given it up. Bet he's reading it now and having a good laugh.

Davie M, Dundee, Scotland

I imagine the old gentleman would have remarked that the one thing worse than nepotism in journalism is having relatives out of work.

So really, who else could have filled the slot?

Drew, London,

Giles, your column this week was perfect; vivid, moving and funny.
After reading it I realised I'd forgotten how I used to look forward to your column each week. Your father is very, very sadly missed, but you were missed too. In the absence of The Sage himself, you'll do. Most definitely.

Jamie, Hyde,

struck a cord having lost my father and still mowing for him!i sent a copy of yr piece to my mother only for her to call and say she'd just cut out same to send to me...she reads the independant but happened to see it.he died within 5 weeks of being diagnosed w pancreatic cancer,67,we miss him so.

petra leseberg, lavenham, suffolk

Great to have you back. I really miss your father's column, and used to read your column with as much relish. It was a double disappointment when you ceased, although your reasons for this are understandable. For me there were two Corens, not one real and an imposter.

Ray Harbird, Romford, UK

Nice to have you back Giles. A chip off the old block; with the greatest respect...to both Coren's!

Bernard Boyland, Coventry, Warwickshire

Thankyou, Giles, for writing with such tenderness. I held it together until you mentioned the lawnmower incident ..and then the tears flowed. Anyone who has ever lost someone they love would have gripped the handles with you as they read and smelled the grass.
I miss your Father's unique wit and warmth and am so glad that you will carry on writing in this space: I'm sure he'd have something to say about it if you didn't!

Wendy Bray, Plymouth, Devon

Incredibly moving piece Giles..
Just think The best way to honour his lasting memory is in continuing the tradition of able journalists in the Coren name in the knowledge that he was proud of you.
And We are all here reading and waiting your next columns Giles in the same way we waited with baited breath to read your Fathers when he was writing..
Best Wishes

Simon, Guildford,

Having recently lost my Step-Father, I found Coren's article rather moving. I too used to look to him for approval, a nod of agreement or a call saying "job well done". It's good to see Coren has chose to write again and not decided to do what so many do in his position, and give up.
Well done Giles!

Vicki, Woking, Surrey

If, by the time you're in your late thirties, you still feel the need to remind your readers with tedious regularity about where you went to school and university, it tends to suggest to me that you don;t have much confidence in your achievements in adult life. And IMHO, Mr Coren, how right you would be to think that. The well-adjusted person forgets about school and university as soon as they have their first job, because what school and university are there for, unless you are a career teacher or academic, is to prepare you for real life. They form you, yes. But they don't define you for the rest of your life.

Georgia Brown, Glasgow,

Better, but not funnier than the fry up.

Dennis, Johannesburg, South Africa.

Exquisite. I didn't think they wrote them like this any more. Now I find that they do.

It's a credit to father and son.

Michael Leuty, Nottingham,

I like that, Mr Coren

Minnie, London, uik

Alan Coren was a class act. But you are too Giles. I agree with Jan Prescott & Anthony Price.

patrick nealon, Sudbury, Suffolk,

As one of those absent from the country when AC died, i also missed out on all the tributes subsequently made.
His wit and command of the English language was unsurpassed and few of his readers will ever be able to pull the mower's starter cable without recalling his struggles with the 2-stroke motor or indeed, lay awake on hot humid summery evenings, listening to the menacing buzz of diving mosquitos, reminiscing about AC's personal battles, lit by torch beams and fought with proprietary aerosol sprays.

John Wilson, Eastbourne,

Well done, Giles; today's column can't have been easy for you. You've managed to combine pathos, comedy & a real personal touch. So no, it's not a case of the 'wrong one' back, at all. I look forward to more. Thank you.

Jan Prescott, St Helens, Merseyside

A helluva an act to follow - but you did it!

Anthony Price, Truro,

I often read your column & find it funny. That joke about the poo in the potty with your ma, i'll be honest, i'm going to plagerise & trot it out, at perfect comedic timing, like i only ever owned it.
Also, i saw you months ago along Cornhill near the Royal Exchange in the City; filming something and cant believe how tiny you are. For a small man you have a big column.
Just dont stop !

CS, Finchley,

Good stuff GC - very evocative - I loved my dear old dad too especially for all the daft stuff that he wrote. He & I loved the stuff your dad wrote too - non PC letters from Kampala and the Sanity Inspector - the first book I remember reading that made me cry with laughter.

The gene is alive and well though and delighted you have taken up the mowing job - strange analogy but it worked...

Simon Rogers, Penn, UK

Quite a poignant piece. If Giles really feels the pressure in having to live up to his father's inimitable standard perhaps he could change his name. One appropriate anagram is Relics Gone.

Jim, Auckland, NZ

Nice one Giles. Keep the tradition going. The last thing dad would want is to deny us all a good laugh.

john duffy, Acton Park, Tasmania, Australia.

Soppy as it sounds, you made me tear up - reminded me of my own dad, dead these 10 years. Died a couple of weeks before some Royal Princess type. Nobody made a fuss. Good for you on the lawn. Keep writing. Your dad was right, you're good. And funny. And you sound like you mean it.

elrohana, Leeds, UK

If you want my opinion, Giles; this is good enough. The handover has been virtually seamless. The stripe is straight.

chris jerrams, seoul, south korea

Always a good start to have a famous dad.

Paul Slattery, Brentford, UK

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Giles Coren

Giles Coren has been a columnist for The Times since 1999. He began as a feature writer before becoming restaurant critic in 2001. His reviews appear in The Times Magazine on Saturdays