Photograph Source: Library of the London School of Economics and Political Science – Public Domain

While Jeffrey Epstein’s memory and misdeeds continues haunting discussions, another confidence trickster so able to win a following deserves dishonourable mention.  The feats of Lord Jeffrey Archer, best-selling author of inexecrable pulp (anywhere up to 14 or 15 drafts per book would do), top-tier liar and shameless fabulist, ought to be remembered in some fashion.  On October 6, his publisher, HarperCollins, announced that the former deputy chairman of the Conservative Party and MP had died “suddenly and peacefully” at home.  This had taken place a mere 24 hours after attending a book signing event at Leicester Square Theatre with fellow scribe and former Tory MP Giles Brandreth.

From the start, you took his word at your peril.  Archer lied about his father’s background, celebrating him as a decorated First World War hero when he was, in fact, a convicted bigamist and fraudster who sojourned through the United States using his dead employer’s passport.  Archer lied about his education, giving the impression he had gone to Wellington College in Berkshire, rather than Wellington School in Somerset.  His university education was also a cooked-up stew: he never went to Brasenose College, Oxford University, instead slumming at the Oxford department of education.  False academic qualifications were also submitted, among them a fictional two-year degree from the US and three A-levels he never received.  For all that, he still won an Oxford Blue running for the university, despite questions about his eligibility.  At least he could run.

When elected to the Lincolnshire seat of Louth in the December 1969 by-election, he repeatedly insisted he was the youngest Member of Parliament at the time. (He was the fourth.)  In 1974, he resigned after losing $620,000 in investments made in Aquablast, a Canadian industrial cleaning company.  During his stay in Toronto to give evidence relevant to the case, he was detained for shoplifting, though never formally charged.  From there, he turned to writing, producing narratives not so much to exercise the mind as serve as escapist page turners and........

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