IN Monday's Evening Press, Chris Titley wrote an interesting feature on the history of TV detector vans. According to Chris's scrupulously researched article, these vehicles have grown more and more sophisticated over the years, and TV licence dodgers can now expect to be detected within 20 seconds, at a range of 60 metres.

But the biggest TV licence cheat of all has nothing to fear from these vehicles of mass detection. Its name is the BBC.

CHRIS'S well-informed article also taught me something new. I never knew before that Frankie Howerd was "York's own comedian".

Yorick knew Frankie briefly, when his career was at its nadir.

He was the "Sunday Special" show (ie the "filler-in") - to give the "Clarkson Rose Follies" a welcome night off from their toils at the end of Eastbourne Pier.

In those days, Yorick worked in TV, but young as I was, I'd always admired the old-timers of what was then known as variety or music hall. They knew how to handle an audience, as though it was just an extra 'prop'.

So I travelled to Eastbourne to see Frankie.

The show didn't go well; there were no drinks in the dressing room afterwards; we went over the road to a caff for a cup of tea, where one of the audience recognised Frankie. "The show wasn't bad," he said in a deliberately loud voice, "but the comedian was useless."

We went back to London in his cramped old car, driven by his much-abused pianist (it was part of the act that she never uttered a word on stage, but she certainly let fly in the car). She doubled as his chauffeuse.

Next day, I told my boss that I thought Frankie still had it in him, and he was given a solo spot on That Was The Week That Was.

A star was reborn. But "York's own comedian???"

Perhaps Chris will explain this to me when we next have one of our convivial lunches at "Le Meridien" Station Hotel (or whatever its latest name will be, once it has been taken over, yet again).

FRANKIE was, of course, gay - a euphemism he would never have uttered (or even stuttered) himself, unless preceded by his usual routine of "Yes", "No", "Let me", "No", "Really", "No", "Please", "I mean", "Yes", "Don't", "Desist" etc.

All these expostulations show that Frankie never tried to make audiences laugh at jokes. Instead, he flirted with them, knowing that we all have a touch of the gay in us, which he played upon. And everyone enjoys being flirted with, almost more than anything else.

HERE are a couple of 'clerihews' about recently deceased men with moustaches.

How do you say

Qusay?

If you don't know, just say to Madame,

"May I introduce you to the son of Saddam."

When you mention Uday

(Especially at a Sothebys view-day)

Just say he was an Iraqi,

Whose taste was rather tacky.

ANYONE who read Yorick's column in the 1980s will know that I was the confidante of both Diana and Fergie (who shared a flat with my daughter, Yoricka, for a time).

So, James Hewitt isn't the only one who owns intimate correspondence from Princess Diana.

In contrast to Hewitt, I have never tried to sell my letters, even at a car boot sale (although I did once try to swap them for a bike I fancied).

However, now that Hewitt has gone public, I feel free to disclose a few extracts from letters she wrote to me.

September 4

Dear Yorick,

I am being pestered by the most awful man. He has quite good looks, but that's the sort of thing you'd say about a horse, and I do not want another relationship which has anything to do with horses.

December 4

Dear Yorick

I'm in such a black mood, I wish I could step on a land-mine myself, or catch Aids. If I died that would show them! (I think I've stolen that phrase from those wonderful "William" stories. They'd miss me, once I've gone!)

The trouble is - they wouldn't! They'd probably just say to themselves, "bit of a shame, really, but she brought it on herself - and it's really the best outcome when all's said and done".

December 10

My dearest Yorick

Why do I only have affairs with cads? Because cads only fancy "beauties"? I wish I looked more like Camilla.

December 14

Darling Y

Sorry - missed post yesterday. But I had to tell you how much I appreciated your remarks. I took your advice, and went shopping in a "Burkha". (Hope I've got that spelling right).

But I still got recognised, would you believe! It's my eyes, you see. But I can't go around bloody blindfold, can I? Love Di.

That is all that Yorick is prepared to reveal, at present.

Updated: 11:13 Saturday, July 26, 2003