Jim: Skill and sleeping and fencing

When people talked about Jim Forrester, his perception and skill as a journalist, especially on a fast-breaking story, often unfairly took second place to his famous sleeping habits. Others who knew Jim have mentioned his amazing ability to drop off with his head on a chattering teleprinter.

On one overnight shift, Paul Iredale and I - both fencers back in the day - had decided that the long straight passage between the desks in 85 Fleet Street would make a good piste. At a quiet moment we put on our gear and set to without telling the sleeping Jim. The piste was a little narrower than we had estimated and our sabres hacked slivers out of the furniture. As we clattered to and fro, I glanced to one side at Jim. His head came up slowly from the machine, he looked blearily at the two swordsmen, lowered his head and went straight back to sleep. He didn’t wake up properly until after the bout, and never mentioned it. Did the Prince of Darkness have dreams?

Jim was a wise old owl in office politics. At one point a senior person who was out to get the Prince was bombarding him daily with critical “brownies”. Jim fanned the latest batch out in front of me. I noticed one referred to an incident that happened when I knew Jim had in fact had a day off. I offered to go and tell the senior person. “No don’t,” Jim said. “I’ll just keep that by. It may be useful later.” ■