# Contact info submission url: exile-blog.blogspot.com site_owner: address1: address2: city: state: country: postal_code: phone_number: display_email: site_name: site_description: The Exile

E-Mail Me

My Twitter

Top Blogs

LeftWing2

Campaign 4 Public Ownership

FASO

FASSIT

Mothers For Justice

Ian Josephs

UKSecretCourt's Videos

Unity-Injustice




Chris Paul

David Lindsay

Heresy Corner

Machetera

Martin Meenagh

Neil Clark

Organised Rage

Renegade Eye

Serb Blog

Splintered Sunrise

Star of Vergina

Unrepentant Communist

Agitprop

British Politics

Censorship 01

Collaborators

Gimlet

Imperialism

Memories

Mexico

New Britain 01

New Britain 02

Sleaze

Social Work Industry

Wankblogs

Working Class

Atom Feed

XML Feed





30 March 2006
More on the Oxford Union & blowjobs - with a sideline on hand shandery.
Yesterday I posted some memories of the Oxford Union and a certain Joe Blob that took place in its garden. I have received quite a few e-mails on the topic, several of which count as obscene even by my dubious standards. What can I say? Keep up the good work.

They can be divided into two themes. The writers of the first tranche were determined to demonstrate that the girl on her knees could not have been Sally; rather it was Sarah, or Susan or even Caroline. For the record, all I did was pick a name out of thin air. . . I'm not so sure that I even remember a Sally at Oxford in those days. I do remember a Caroline, though, and agree that "she went like a steam engine," so maybe my correspondent's memory is better than mine. However, she was at the Ox & Cow, and most of them did clatter like Stephenson's Rocket when their fires had been suitably poked.

The second group wanted to prove that I was rehashing a tale from their day - some even provided names, colleges and dates to prove their thesis. Gentlemen, it may very well have happened in Trinity 1970, but that does not prove that it did not also happen in Hilary 1984. Truth be told, I suspect that if all the Oxford Union's hackettes were laid end to end, nobody would be in the least bit surprised.

And now for something completely different. . . Ollie Kamm reports that he was in the audience for the Weinberger show. I don't remember him from those days, and judging from his published photograph the bugger still hasn't reached puberty, so I reckon that it's a safe bet that he has never leaned against an Oxford Union wall. That said, amid all the verbiage, I was reminded that the late E.P. Thompson was one of the speakers.

What I remember most about him was that he wore an ordinary tweed jacket instead of the more usual black tie. He explained, rather movingly I thought, that after returning from the Second World War, he and his surviving friends had vowed never to wear black tie again in memory of all of all the friends that they had lost. I was reminded as he spoke of Harold Macmillan, a man who left Oxford to serve in the Great War, and who could not face returning to the university to finish his degree after it ended. His aching memories of so many who had died simply precluded it.

I think that we should listen to the fading voices of men like these, rather than the strident tones of prepubescent oinks who want to send my sons off to die, while they sit at home, wanking dementedly over the carnage.

Labels: , ,

1 Comments:

Better that your sons get to put this lot against the wall come the day. And that'll come to be, because this degenerate Rightwing generation is too dumb to know when to surrender. They actually think they're winning. What that might possibly be -- who knows? -- as they merrily lead us all to Hell in a handbasket.

1 April 2006 at 13:41  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home