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The piece begins:
I moved into Mart’s sock – where you lived was your “sock”. Your rug was your “hair”. Your knee was still your knee: we couldn’t think of another word for it. We called our penises our “willie winkies” and our shared lavatory “the bog”. There were a lot of brilliantly inventive word games of that kind.There is much more in that vain. So three cheers for Vanity Fair, which reprints the whole thing in full here.
3 comments:
A brilliant parody, although the original is so like self-parody.
Yep, that's what I have thought for a while. Hitchens's book reviews in the Atlantic over the last few years were what gave me pause - the judgements were well-argued but the phrasing was less well. And the whole "My Favourite Martin" love-in is just embarrassing. But he remains a hero for his bravery under fire.
Despite everything, yes.
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