Call the family, nurse - he's about to dictate his last letter to The Times.” Thus speaks the doctor in my favourite Punch cartoon, as he leans over a distinguished-looking gentleman about to breathe his last.

From time to time a question relating to the letters page of The Times arrives, and I reply. But last week Dr Sam Banik, of North London, e-mailed a more general inquiry, giving me the perfect excuse to devote this week's column to matters epistolary.

Dr Banik wrote: “Could you please give us a glimpse into the workings of the Letters to the Editor department? I understand that The Times receives about 700-800 missives a day from the crème de la crème of society, from the illuminati, glitterati and literati, and also from the far corners of the Earth, and some from crackpots who wish to see their names in print. How does the team sort the wheat from the chaff, and meet the deadline? It must be an arduous job for the sub-editors and editor.”

Speaking as a former letters editor of The Times, nah, it's easy-peasy. First bin any in green ink and capitals, any from crackpots and those that you can't decipher. Then speed-read 600 e-mails before noon, flagging up any that look remotely usable. Then go back and double-flag any from toffs, archbishops, generals, the Cabinet and the crème de la crème of society; chuck those on the page and print it. Job done.

Only kidding. It is indeed a demanding job, not least because of the sheer volume of words that pours in to the letters e-mail address. Letters fall into the purview of the editor of The Register, Ian Brunskill, and he and his staff copy-taste letters, both e-mailed and posted. From the daily tally of about 600, they select on average 18 for the page. They aim for a balance between serious comment on big stories and lighter on anything under the sun; there is always room for a quirky observation that might spark off a week's correspondence.

The letters page is not, of course, a forum merely for the great and the good. However, if Mr Pooter of Cheam and the Home Secretary (or her Shadow) were both to write urging abolition of the monarchy, the latter's letter is more likely to be selected (although members of the Government are not especially favoured, as they have no shortage of platforms from which to air views).

Having made their selection, the Register subs may telephone some of the chosen few to check details. Then the letters must be edited for sense, checked for facts, assembled on the page and cut to fit prettily (paying due attention to the legendary bottom right-hand-corner slot).

The explosion of e-mail has forced us to abandon many former practices, such as discussing the editing and cutting in detail with every writer, and posting courteous rejection letters to every unsuccessful correspondent. What has not changed is the care with which every letter is read, and the daily excitement of seeing what the post has brought. The Times letters page remains a jewel in our crown.

Alpha mail

Kenneth Wood, of Exeter, says (and I'll take his word) that of the 190 letters published between May 26 and June 11, “67.9 per cent came from addresses south of a line drawn from the Wash to Cheshire. The North of England, Wales and Scotland together accounted for only 19.5 per cent. 2.1 per cent came from abroad but none came from Northern Ireland. 10.5 per cent could not be attributed... although most, being from institutions, were probably London-based. There is an obvious imbalance across the UK.” While the figures do not represent population distribution, I bet that they correlate pretty closely to Times readership distribution.

Similarly, Duncan Grey writes from Cambridge: “I've just taken a quick count of male to female contributors to the letters page over the past few weeks. My calculations show that 83 per cent of writers are men, 11 per cent are women and some 6 per cent are either joint writers or of uncertain gender. Who is responsible for this? Gender-biased editors, domineering husbands or some other factor? Could it be that The Times does not appeal to women, or that women prefer to tend to kittens and cooking while their menfolk pore over the paper?” The published ratio broadly mirrors that of letters received, although the other reason in my view is that women have better things to do with their time than write letters to newspapers.

So keep writing, e-mailing, posting and faxing for, as A. P. Herbert wrote in his 1925 poem The Saviours:

“Death!” remarked Sir Thingummy Jig.

“Bring me a pen and ink! Bring me a fair white writing-pad, and something strong to drink,

And wrap a towel about my head and don't let anyone in,

For I must write to The Times tonight and save the world from sin.”

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