Whereas Bunny is an exponent of the forensic and elegant long-form nailing, Mr Eugenides does something quicker and dirtier. He specialises in the nailing as drive-by-shooting: pithy, judiciously expletive, and with a consistently accurate aim (today's incidental nailing of Roy Jenkins provides a fine example).
However, whilst we are surely blessed in having such as these to write for us, and having bemoaned our sad lack of an Auberon Waugh blog earlier today, I began to play fantasy nailers. That is, nailers who are no longer with us but who would have been brilliantly entertaining in the blog format. Kingsley Amis leapt to mind. Here are a couple of paragraphs from a favourite Kingers nailing:
[Tony] Benn I have run into only once, early in his career, when by a misunderstanding he arrived on my doorstep expected but not heralded by any name. The door was one of those with a glass panel affording a preview of the caller. At the first sight of the present arrival the thought flashed into my mind, 'Who is this English cunt?' The distinguishing adjective is important. There are Scottish cunts, there are even Welsh cunts, and God knows there are American cunts, but the one in question could have come from nowhere else but this green and pleasant land. Something about the set of the lips.
Other guests arrived at the same time and my silent question went unanswered for the moment. I offered drinks. Someone asked for a gin and tonic. I turned to the cunt. 'Same for you?' He reacted much as if I had said, 'Glass of baby's blood? It 's extra good today,' and somehow in that moment I knew him, recognised him from television. He settled for bitter lemon, 'with plenty of ice, ' he added firmly. (I once heard him say unequivocally, also on television, that his sole interest in life was and had always been politics, which to my mind should debar anybody from standing for Parliament. Even Ted Heath has his yacht and his choirs).
Amis was also that rare and admirable Englishman: a liker of the Welsh. No slave to convention, he.
Being on the receiving end of a nailing, however, can't be much fun. The sort of people whose pursuits make them a regular target for nailing must develop the toughest of hides. I wonder whether I can look forward to ever receiving a nailing? Would I bear up? Like many Welshes, primarily, and despite the injury, I would probably feel flattered just to have been noticed.