I’m talking about the Archers and if you’re looking for an everyday story of country folk, stop right here. Jeffrey and Mary Archer have been together now half a century.
Fifty years. Some of them scarred by scandal but generally the air surrounding them has been healthy.
And Jeffrey still does most of his talking – what he considers fit for the media – from his penthouse apartment by the Thames. A showcase for his art collection worth millions.
Jailed for four years for perjury. And allegedly there had been dealings with a prostitute. Now he patently gets niggled with “silly journalists’’.
He adds: “You lot do go on about it. What do you want me to do? Apologise every day? This morning again. I’m 73. ‘Mary, I’m sorry.’ Don’t be silly.”
Dame Mary Archer won her battle with bladder cancer last year. ‘‘I thought she was going to die.
“I won’t allow it. I’d be terrible on my own. The deal is that I die first.’’
The Archers today are both very much alive. His last 20 books have been bestsellers, all boosted by a new one, Be Careful What You Wish For, which was published last month.
Jeffrey (Lord Jeffrey, if you please) is a workaholic and he would never wish to have it any other way.
Just be careful. You’ve got millions of loyal readers watching you.
Afterwords . .
“I shall complete the work started by Jesus Christ.’’ Aye, right, Adolf. Who did you think you were kidding, Mister Hitler?