The Beast

A bit of comic relief on our day of rest.

By JOHN LEAKE

Whenever I’m feeling especially disgusted by the mainstream press, I go back and read SCOOP for a bit of comic relief. The novel, published by the British author Evelyn Waugh in 1938, is a satire of London’s Fleet Street yellow journalism. Lord Copper is the personification of this enterprise, and his newspaper is called The Daily Beast. His chief competitor, whose editorial offices are located across the street, is The Daily Brute.

The novel tells the story of William Boot—a country boy who writes a column about birds (such as the crested grebe) for The Daily Beast. The editors mistake him for a fashionable novelist named John Courteney Boot, and assign him to cover a war that is breaking out in a remote country in East Africa called Ishmaelia. Lord Copper says he believes it will be a "a very promising little war" and he wants to give it maximum publicity.

This morning, as I reread the first half of the novel, I found myself laughing out loud on almost every page. Here’s the scene in which the inept young William Boot receives a farewell pep talk from Lord Copper as he sets off for his assignment in Ishmaelia:

Lord Copper was at his desk. He dismissed some satellites and rose as William came towards him. “Come in, Mr. Boot. This is a great pleasure. I have wanted to meet you for a long time. It is not often that the Prime Minister and I agree but we see eye to eye about your style. A very nice little style indeed… You may sit down too, Salter. Is Mr. Boot all set for his trip?” “Up to a point, Lord Copper.” “Excellent. There are two invaluable rules for a special correspondent—Travel Light and Be Prepared. Have nothing which in a case of emergency you cannot carry in your own hands. But remember that the unexpected always happens. Little things we take for granted at home like…” he looked about him, seeking a happy example; the room though spacious was almost devoid of furniture; his eye rested on a bust of Lady Copper; that would not do; then, resourcefully, he said “… like a coil of rope or a sheet of tin, may save your life in the wilds. I should take some cleft sticks with you. I remember Hitchcock—Sir Jocelyn Hitchcock, a man who used to work for me once; smart enough fellow in his way, but limited, very little historical backing—I remember him saying that in Africa he always sent his dispatches in a cleft stick. It struck me as a very useful tip. Take plenty. “With regard to Policy, I expect you already have your own views. I never hamper my correspondents in any way. What the British public wants first, last and all the time is News. Remember that the Patriots are in the right and are going to win. The Beast stands by them four square. But they must win quickly. The British public has no interest in a war which drags on indecisively. A few sharp victories, some conspicuous acts of personal bravery on the Patriot side and a colorful entry into the capital. That is the Beast Policy for the war. “Let me see. You will get there in about three weeks. I should spend a day or two looking around and getting the background. Then a good, full-length dispatch which we can feature with your name. That’s everything, I think, Salter?” “Definitely, Lord Copper.” He and William rose. It was not to be expected that Lord Copper would leave his chair twice in the morning, but he leaned across the desk and extended his hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Boot, and the best of luck. We shall expect the first victory about the middle of July.”

Waugh, Evelyn. Scoop (p. 49). Little, Brown and Company. Kindle Edition.