Mr C E M Joad was a dreadful man. He wasn't a professor, though he managed to con the BBC into thinking he was.
His BBC producer described him as 'an immensely vain individual', a judgement borne out by the titles of some of his books like The Book of Joad and </>The Testament of Joad. The tiniest diagreement with an opinion of his would throw him into a towering rage and he would storm off.
His attitude to women was that the only purpose they served on the planet was to meet the sexual needs of men. He once said that he had no interest in speaking with a woman unless she was willing to sleep with him. Those who did succumb he always called Maureen in case he made a slip of the tongue when with them.
He was notoriously mean, never having been known to buy his round in a pub, and this was his undoing.
On January 5 1948 he boarded an Exeter train at Paddington with his secretary (whom he was happy to talk to. Mmm...). She bought a ticket but he didn't. When the ticket collector came round he lied and said that he had got on at Salisbury. The dining-room attendant denied this and testified that Joad had booked a dinner table when he had first got on at Paddington. It turned out that Joad was fond of travelling without a ticket and he was prosecuted this time, found guilty and fined.
The BBC dropped him in favour of Commander King-Hall.
Joad's authority was gone. He took up Christianity and died of cancer in 1953, aged 62.
By all means remember his catch-phrase, but the man himself is best forgotten.