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Tuesday, August 12, 2003

Thatcher never had this effect on me

I'm in love again. Sometimes it's so easy. I'm in love with Annie Besant. Trouble is, she's dead. Been dead for about a hundred years in fact, but when has that ever stopped me? For those that don't know, Annie Besant was a socialist, a member of the Fabian Party, a co-editor of the National Reformer (which advocated ideas such as trade unions, birth control, and free national education way before anyone else did), and led a successful strike against the impoverished and dangerous conditions that matchstick workers in the east end of London had to work in during the 19th century. That would be enough for me to fall in love with her, but then the final ingredient, the clincher that closed the deal was this grainy old black and white photograph of the young Annie. Love is about lots of things, but I maintain to this day that true love needs to have that indescernable, indescribable 'something' that is unique to you, that only, perhaps, you can see. I've had it once, maybe twice in my life. But Annie, oh Annie! It's usually in the eyes, and, see, Annie has these eyes that seem to burn with truth and longing and justice and belief and there's also the hint, nay, the colossal stink of eroticism about her. Oh Annie, I bet you'd be the devil between the sheets....erm, were you alive that is.
And I can't even dig her up because her ashes are scattered in India. Such is life.

Posted by paul

Replies: Oh! Someone!