De haut en bas | 27 March 2014

In Competition 2840 you were invited to provide an extract from the autobiography of a modern-day celebrity, ghostwritten by a literary great.

Where would Jordan’s literary ambitions have been without the creative input of Rebecca Farnworth? And how many chapters would Wayne Rooney have managed without the guiding genius of Hunter Davies? Behind many a bestselling biography is an invisible man or woman, the unsung hero who has done most of the work but gets virtually none of the credit.

There were some inspired pairings: Charles Dickens and Jamie Oliver; Charlotte Brontë and Susan Boyle; Stephen Fry and Samuel Johnson. Commendations to C.J. Gleed, Noel Petty and Josh Ekroy. The bonus fiver goes to D.A. Prince for her account of the life of Stephen Fry by way of Bleak House. Her fellow winners take £30.
 

Fry everywhere. Fry in the bookshops where I sit among the greatest intellectuals of all times, conversing and enlarging the stream of enlightened discourse. Fry among the novelists, Fry instructing the poets in the twists and turns of their little craft. Fry on the TV screen, and not a home in the land that I haven’t entered and delighted. Fry in the cinema, gracing every shot and angle, enhancing even the most light-touch cameo roles with my effervescence, my wit, my mot juste. Fry, above all, in the newest, most sparkling techno-gadget, in the smartest phone, the neatest iPad, the whizziest gizmo, giving my imprimatur to the latest e-thing. Fry, ultimately, in the Twitter-sphere, followed by all who need my most immediate life-experience (and isn’t that everyone?), followed by the Great, the Good, the Nearly-Great, the Young, the Old, all shades of Humanity. Fry the uplifter, the sharer who cares: the man modestly before you.