You Cannot Live As I Have Lived and Not End Up Like This: The Thoroughly Disgraceful Life and Times of Willie Donaldson

Back in 1988 I moved into the flat of my dreams in Elm Park Mansions in Chelsea. I had the pleasure of being a Chelsea-ite for 15 years until I moved out in 2003. Almost every day of my stay in EPM I would see the same neighbour walking over the courtyard or up and down Park Walk with his trademark military upright gait. He cut a somewhat cadaverous sight with his sunken cheeks and Professor Wallofski male pattern baldness, always bedecked in the same blazer, open shirt and creased slacks that had the sort of shabbiness only the toffs can carry off. Over the years he grew to recognise me too, and our 'friendship' grew to a nod of acknowledgement whenever we passed. Never a word was uttered. This man was the late William Donaldson, famous satirist, crack addict at 61, thrice bankrupt, squanderer of inheritances (twice), pimp, orgy organiser, author, impresario, Independent columnist, serial upper-class call-girl shagger, friend to Mad Frankie Fraser, fiance to Carly Simon, boyfriend of Sarah Miles, and Page Three girl dater.

In fact, we had a mutual friend in Pankaj Amin who ran the Fulham News newsagency on the nearby Fulham Road. I knew Pankaj well, who like me was an avid Lancashire cricket fan, and we often went to Lords to see them play (and get drunk). He regaled me of stories of Willie's escapades, and because of the unusual hours he had to keep due to his job, was often on hand to cash Willie's cheques at 4am in the morning so he could pay off his dealers. Pankaj gave me an early insight into Willie's complex character and strange living arrangements. His rented flat in Elm Park Mansions, to which Pankaj had to make deliveries, was best described as a malodorous slum despite the rest of the block being occupied and well maintained by various Yuppies, C-list celebs (the late jazz man, Ronnie Scott), minor members of the aristocracy and my good self.

Willie was a prolific writer, when so motivated, and published many books, although to his own shame most were what he derisively termed 'Toilet books' such as The Complete Naff Guide (under the nom de plume of Kit Bryson), and the collection of spoof Henry Root Letters he became famous for. In reality, he had found his metier with these books, which may appear trifling, but are actually very difficult to craft successfully. Willie had just such a talent for light humour, and his sometimes cruel but always incisive lampooning of society and the world of publishing was his strength.

Terence Blacker, Willie's occasional publishing and writing friend, comes close to capturing the real Willie Donaldson in the easy to read yet absorbing You Cannot Live as I Have Lived and Not End Up Like This: The Thoroughly Disgraceful Life and Times of Willie Donaldson. This is a no holds barred account of Willie's turbulent life, a warts 'n' all pictorial of a life lived to the maximum. Blacker sometimes strays too far from the path and is prone to over-elaborate deconstruction of Willie's parents and over-emphasising relatively insignificant events early in Willie's life, suggesting erroneously that these were the tipping points that steered Willie towards a life of debauchery and corruption. Of course this is nonsense, and in reality Willie would have found that lifestyle without those few early triggers. He was programmed for self-destruction and the course was set in his genes.

Regardless of these minor quibbles, this is an excellent fun book that will give any reader an in-depth foray into the life of one of life's true 'characters'.