Andy Donkersley

I lost an old friend last week.

Andy Donkersley was found dead at his home last Wednesday. He was only about 54 – I never knew his real age because he would never tell me!

Andy – aka "Donkersley", “skinny” or “hippy” (see photo) - was born in Huddersfield and took to journalism on leaving school, doing stints on both the Huddersfield Daily Examiner and later the Blackpool Gazette to my knowledge. There may have been more ports of call up north, I don’t know. Andy’s past is somewhat shrouded in mystery.

We first came across each other when he headed south and started work on the Express & Star newspaper in Wolverhampton at around the same time as I did back in 1985. Initially, he wouldn’t talk to me. You see, I had been to college and got a degree. That was bar humbug to Andy. “Bloody college kids! They know nowt. Come over ‘ere with their poncey ways and la de bloody da pieces of paper! School of life, me! That’s the only bloody qualification tha’ needs, ‘appen.”

I drink alcohol, however – and so did Andy. It was the medium destined to bring us together. He began to warm to me when he discovered that I didn’t walk around with a college scarf, my name wasn’t Tarquin or Gerald, that I would always be there at closing time with him, that I loved Monty Python and football, that I mistrusted authority, that I hated brown nosers and that I thought friends were important and work was not.

After that, the only way I can think of describing Andy is that he was akin to a spaniel – totally loyal, defensive of me in public, willing to do anything for me and always up for my company. I grew to feel much the same about him. Andy was a special individual. Special for a number of reasons.

Firstly, Andy was quite simply the best damn journalist I have ever met! He was bloody brilliant and yet completely modest about his abilities. To him it was just what he did. He was regarded as the best by everyone I knew whose opinion was worth listening to.

Secondly, Andy had a fantastic sense of humour! We found the same things funny and both loved to laugh over more than a few beers after work. That was important – careers were not. We would sum it all up by quoting Mr Dainty, the fantastic, if a little perverted, coach of Barnstoneworth United at every available opportunity: “Shorts don’t matter!”

Thirdly, once Andy had your approval, he was an incredibly warm person and he cared about his friends.

Fourthly, and I am going to curtail this list to avoid devaluing any of the above, he was an intelligent bloke who had rock solid values and beliefs, all of them greatly relished by me and those who knew him.

Andy left the Express & Star in 2006 after a sustained campaign of abuse and bullying by mini-managers who knew and still know absolutely nothing about either journalism or people and he became more ill, spending the last two years of his life in a self-imposed isolation. Myself and many others lost contact with him, despite repeated attempts to look after him – Andy had just had enough. We, I am not ashamed to say, gave up because, when someone just wants to be left alone, they should be. You can't do anything about it anyway, no matter how hard you try.

I make no denials that I was angry about Andy's surrender. It was such a waste and was hurtful to those who loved him. Then, when the inevitable happened, all the anger drained away and I just wanted to remember the guy I knew.

It was such a sad end for such a truly lovely man. We will all be gathering in the coming weeks for his funeral and we are going to remember all those good times, all the times he made us laugh, the times he astounded people with his work, the anecdotes, the scrapes, the fun.

Goodbye, Andy old mate. I am so glad I knew you. We will all miss the real Andy Donkersley very much.