For a man who makes his living from interviewing and sometimes ridiculing others, raconteur Clive James seems shy about giving interviews himself. Or perhaps it is because of what he does that makes James indisposed to putting himself under the same pressure. Hence, a proposed 'interview' became a lunch, under the watchful eyes of two charming ladies from the Australian Chamber of Commerce. James had been flown in to be master of ceremonies at the ANZ Australian Business Awards the previous night. In his first visit to Hong Kong after the handover, James had had plenty to say about Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa's Policy Address and his dream of Hong Kong as a 'green Cybertech city'. His satire had been more accurate than many newspaper editorials on the subject, despite having only a short briefing and a day to work on his speech. '[Tung's] speech was a gift,' he said. But lunch was for easier subjects that required little work, except for the difficulty of choosing from the exciting new menu at M at the Fringe. We decided to start off with the Mandarin Keluga caviar atop crepe Parmentier ($158). James declared it 'wonderful' and a 'man's caviar' with a smack of the lips and a light rub on the tum. The tangy caviar, imported specially by M's from Heilongjiang in the mainland, went down well with the ladies too. From the set lunch menu ($148) James chose the sumac and lemon-scented quail in a salad, with dried figs and walnuts and the crisp suckling pig with broad beans, artichokes and kipfler potatoes. I decided on only a main of 'a stack of deep fried soft shelled crabs on a vinegared cucumber and seaweed salad with a pot of dill mayonnaise' ($168). A smile flashed across his weathered face as he recalled the time he wrote his autobiography, Unreliable Memoirs. It was not long after he arrived to make his name in London, and Britain was certainly not as well-versed with his caustic wit as it is now. 'I had not done anything of significance and when I gave it to my agent, he said, 'maybe we should wait until you do something'. But that was the whole point of it, I told him. It was precisely because I had done nothing significant that the book had a selling point. It would have defeated the purpose otherwise.' These days he still produces his own British television series among which are his 'Interviews' series. One of his most memorable of late was a one-on-one with diva Barbra Streisand, whom he gives credit for 'taking control of Hollywood instead of letting it take control of her'. His Postcards From programmes are down to about one a year because of time and budget constraints. 'ITV does not have a big budget for such series and it takes a few months to get everything ready so I only have time to do about one a year,' he said. He will be glad to see his contract end with ITV at the end of the year, after which he intends to 'retire' for a year or two. Being pressed, he admitted that he would be using the time to look into another medium: the Internet. Most of James' travel now is for his tango lessons. James was bitten by the bug after he did Postcard From Buenos Aires five years ago and still takes lessons from some of the best teachers in Buenos Aires, Spain and England. 'It's often difficult to get lessons with these masters and you have to really make a commitment and say: 'All right, in April I am going to Buenos Aires to take lessons with so-and-so' and in August I will hop on a plane to Spain or something,' he said. But one thing he denied is that he has converted the top floor of his penthouse near Tower Bridge into a tango ballroom as was reported in one English newspaper. 'One room,' he sighed, 'that's all it is. The story was spread by one of the workmen that I fired. Nothing you read of me in the papers is true anyway.' By this time, lunch was finished and James prepared to catch the evening's flight back to Sydney to accept an honorary doctorate from the University of Sydney. He declared himself 'dying' from the 'best meal [he has] had in a long time for that low a price'. 'Now that would make a story for you,' he said with a twinkle in his eyes, 'Clive James dying before your very eyes.' When I told him that it was not a story I would wish to write, he added: 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.' M at the Fringe, 1/F, 2 Lower Albert Road, Tel: 2877 4000
