There Was A House We All Had

He Is, I Think, Already Pondering A Magisterial Project: That Of Buggering The English Language, The Ultimate Revenge Of The Colonialised.

There Are Lots Of Things That You Can Brush Under The Carpet About Yourself Until You're Faced With Somebody Whose Needs Won't Be Put Off.

Reading A Book Is Like Re-writing It For Yourself.

Iconic Clothing Has Been Secularized. . . . A Guardsman In A Dress Uniform Is Ostensibly An Icon Of Aggression; His Coat Is Red As The Blood He Hopes To Shed. Seen On A Coat-hanger, With No Man Inside It, The Uniform Loses All Its Blustering Significance And, To The Innocent Eye Seduced By Decorative Colour And Tactile Braid, It Is As Abstract In Symbolic Information As A Parasol To An Eskimo. It Becomes Simply Magnificent.

Though I Still Turn Up My Coat-collar In A Lonely Way And Am Always Looking At Myself In Mirrors, They’re Only Habits And Give No Clue At All To My Character, Whatever That Is. The Most Difficult Performance In The World Is Acting Naturally Isn’t It? Everything Else Is Artful.