My voice is often recognised by people who don’t know me. My face, which is unmemorable, less so. But once I open my mouth it’s not uncommon at railway stations, on buses or at the supermarket till for someone to approach and ask me to confirm I’m Mr Parish, or Malcolm Parris, or whatever. I make no boast: anyone who appears from time to time on radio and television gets recognised a bit, and over many years this has been my experience too.
But something has changed in recent months, something I can’t ignore. In the past, the enquiry ‘Are you Matthew Parris?’ was made mostly out of curiosity. Occasionally (when I’ve confirmed it’s me) this might be followed up with ‘I often read you in the Times or Spectator/like your BBC Great Lives programme/agree with what you said on Newsnight’ etc., but kind remarks like these have been ventured in the spirit of needing to say something to fill an awkward pause.
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