He was a nasty, bad-tempered old queen- or that's the role he mostly played, but he was kind and loyal too- standing by Anthony Blunt- to his own detriment- when the wolf pack was howling for him. He became the most entertaining of art critics- unfair, bitchy, outrageous, quotable; he despised most modern art but- for some unfathomable reason- loved the Chapman brothers. He became a TV star of sorts- though he affected to hate the business- and his filmed pilgrimage to Compostela is a joy. The two volumes of Autobiography are (I'm told) filthy and unputdownable. He took his love of dogs to unsavoury extremes- digging up their little corpses to take with him when he moved houses. He was a character, an original. He didn't censor himself. He preferred "queer" to "gay"- and queer was what he was- in every sense of the word.