From an Article on Local Humorist -Miles Kington by Ali Stevens which appeared in the April edition of FOLIO

Persistence is a trait you'd expect to find in a daily columnist for a national broadsheet, and it's one that's definitely paid off for Miles Kington. He got his first staff job at Punch and his first daily column in the Times by persistently bombarding editors with unsolicited material, until they caved in. With a career spanning nearly four decades, he's widely regarded
as the last of the great British humorists,with daily discourse in the mdependent and
a portfolio of books, radio shows and television credits that have left him"trembling on the verge of fame" for most of his life. And that's just the way he likes it
From his home in Lirnpley Stoke near Bath, the daily writing ritual for the mdependent inserts a semblance of routine into an otherwise freestyle creative existence, shared with his second wife Caroline and their son Adam, who's 13 (and there are three grown-up offspring from previous marriages and two grandchildren in the picture too). Their elegant Georgian home in the highly sought-after Avon Valley is a well-lived-in,well-stocked and welcoming place that reveals a lot about its inhabitants, as Lloyd Grossman would say if he peeped through the keyhole. Every wall and every inch of surface is occupied;there are lots of pictures and photographs, collectable,highly personal objets d'art, family and travel mementos, bowls of beautiful flowers and an abundance of books -literally thousands lining rows and rows of shelves and bookcases throughout the house. There are papers too,old and new (Miles has a superstition that "the longer you keep a paper the truer it gets") and piles of sheet music and magazines. Miles pulls out a copy of Melody Maker from the early '60s -but he can find no justification for having kept this one for so long.
This is a symptom of Miles' hoarding habit; stockpiling information as fuel for his facetiousness. Other inspiration comes from simple observations that he twists laterally to turn something very ordinary into something quite extraordinary. Miles discovered his passion for writing at school:"Even back then I knew I wanted to be a humorist, " he reflects. "Not that I felt that I was particularly humorous,I just admired it so much that I wanted to be one. But even back then it was a dying trade. When I went to Oxford the people who went on to create Private Eye were all just leaving. I timed that rather badly. They were the last lot that really wanted to write humour for the page. After that everyone wanted to write for the screen and the stage.
Miles' final year at Oxford saw him involved in a review show at the Edinburgh Festival that was transferred to the West End.Performing in this particular review was a funny bloke by the name ofTerry Jones, and he and Miles became great friends. "'The review didn't even have a name," Miles laughs. "It had four asterisks, so you couldn't even say it.Can you imagine phoning the box office and asking for two tickets to '****', please? We were only on for three weeks - it wasn't well patronised ..."
What it did lead to, however, was a writing collaboration between Terry and Miles. "We wrote masses of stuff together,but it wasn't really getting us anywhere. We realised we were moving in different directions; I wanted to write for the page,he wanted to write for the screen. Terry then announced that he'd met a very good writer by the name of Michael Palin, and he wanted to go and work with him."
Since this close encounter with the conception of Monty Python, there have been plenty more golden opportunities for Miles. He turned down the BBC's flagship film review series that eventually landed in the hands of Barry Norman. And then there was the invitation to go 'Around the World in 80 Days'. He's even had the call from Hollywood to turn a novel by the great American writer Irwin Shaw into a film script ...But Miles has no regrets.Firstly he didn't want to be a film buff, and secondly, the globetrotting adventure clashed with the birth of Adam and came shortly after Miles' return from a gruelling filming expedition in Burma for the 'Great Railway Journeys' series. And as for Hollywood -it just didn't appeal at I the time. Call him mad, or just accept that ~ are still a few sane ones out there who don't crave celebrity status. As Miles says, "Most people don't know who I am, and I'm happy to keep it that way."
Miles' first break as a writer came in the early '60s from the satirical empire of Punch. He invented a humorous hybrid of the French and English languages in a column called 'Lets Parlais Franglais' which earned him noteriety in literary circles and French restaurants. After 15 years at Punch he took the giant leap into the freelance abyss, and here started many adventures for Miles, including an epic series called 'Great Railway Journeys' and unusual one-offs, like the irreverent skit for TV called 'In Search for the Holy Foreskin'.In the meantime, in pursuit of his ambition to write, he persuaded the then editor of the Times that he really did need a humorist. He was at the Times for seven years, before crossing over to the other side, to the "lively and new" Independent.
Ten years later and Miles is fast approaching 60 with all his wit about him and an open,friendly and understated manner. He loves to talk, but not particularly about himself, so he takes a meandering, scenic route through our interview, embellishing it with anecdotes from the heydays of fleet Street, and from his many travels and encounters. While we talk he potters around the kitchen, baking bread and fixing lunch. He even disappears for a quick tinkle on the piano - he's very at home in his world. And in these days of electronic mail, he never has to leave it to meet his daily deadline. In fact, he confesses to never having even visited the Independent`s HQ on Canary Wharf. "Why would I want to?" he shrugs."Ifs a good life. In fact, to good. I'm getting a bit lazy these days -I'm not hungry and thrusting any more. I suppose I should be in London, 'networking', but it's very easy to just be contented."Miles reckons he's adapted well to life in the West Country, although he has very fond memories of his 20 or so years in Notting Hill. Fonder, in fact, than his regard for his adopted city of Bath: "I have very ambivalent feelings towards Bath," he admits. "1 get annoyed at the self-satisfaction of the place. Everything
good about Bath has been achieved by people who are now dead." The rant continues, but the city of Bath is his only focus of vitriol, for today anyway.Life is a field-day for an astute observer like Miles. His greatest inspiration has come from the works of 2Oth-century French writer Alphonse Allais, who "proved that you can get away with anything in a humorous column if you pretend it's serious".But the technique has got Miles in to trouble. like the time after the Falklands war when Miles inadvertently sent a 'Shergar Held in Argentina' shockwave through the international news agencies ...and the time when the Welsh liberation Anny was burning down English-owned second homes, and Miles' take on the situation led to him being reported to the Press Council for 'enticement to cause arson' by
union leader Clive Jenkins. The council didn't pursue his complaint, and to this
day Miles chooses to ignore political correctness. "I've learnt that almost anything
you say, someone, somewhere will take it seriously. Even when I make up a weird institution I always get someone asking me how they can join!"
Miles was born in Northern Ireland (his father was serving with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers), although his family lineage can be sourced somewhat closer to what's now home -Bristol. The Kingtons were a prominent and wealthy local family who used to live at Charlton House near South WraxalI (now a prep school) until around the 1840s.Miles attended boarding school in Scotland and it was here that he discovered his love for languages- and jazz music. "I was 12 when I fell in love with jazz.
I thought,God, what's that wonderful music? And I started collecting it like mad."
Miles was so inspired that he wanted to play it himself. He could play the piano but,
being classically trained, he found it very hard to pick up the jazz templates. He
was so determined that he learnt the trombone instead.
Miles went on to study languages at
Oxford University, where he discovered a hotbed of jazz talent Unfortunately he
met more than his match at the trombone and, not one to be beaten by circumstance,
he set about teaching himself another instrument, the double bass. Music has continued
to play an important part in Miles' life, most famously with jazz quartet Instant
Sunshine. "It was great fun for a long time because everyone in the band was very good
at what they played. It was also the way I learned how to make up introductions
and to face an audience.
When you write humour for the page you never hear anyone
laugh. With this group I experienced the ecstasy of getting a laugh from a live audience."
Other strings to his bow are five books of collected works, two stage plays ('The
Death of Tchaikovsky' and 'Waiting for Stoppard') , numerous radio productions
and several TV series. Ten years of conjuring up a column for the Independent,
plus seven years at the TImes and 15 years at Punch adds up to an astonishing number
of columns -more than 6,000 if you want to count A conservative guestimate makes that
about 3.6 million words. Clearly this is a man who's never stuck for them. And as
for amusing anecdotes -you could be here all day. In fact, I was, and by 3pm his
editor was on the phone haranguing this great wordsmith for the next day's copy.
That'll be my exit cue then ...