© Chris Port, 2011
I was targeted by a strange man in a pub last year. He was sat there, as if waiting for me, clutching a laptop and wearing those thick lensed boggle specs that are de rigueur for nutters and paedo's.
He seemed to know an awful lot about me... which was worrying. Perhaps he hangs out with school management and the local freemasons?
He seemed like a grubby emissary so I probed him (if you'll forgive the expression) to find out more. A lot of it seemed to involve me going abroad. Strange how many strange men have approached me in pubs, knowing things that only school management would know, emphasizing the benefits of me disappearing abroad. Enough to make you a little paranoid sometimes...
Anyway, I digress. After lecturing me about the etymology of education (from the Latin "educare" and "educere" - to bring forth - and "ducere" - "to lead") little African boys and Chaucer's variations on the "c" word, he suddenly criticized me for "over-complicating" things. Which was odd, as I hadn't even said anything yet. But it's a phrase that's been used by several emissaries (from whom, from whom?).
In for a penny, in for a pound. I ripped apart his slightly fascistic lack of philosophy and gave him a (very) dumbed down explanation of Wittgenstein's musings on thought, language and aesthetics. He frowned, blinked, then glared at me (the effect being magnified by his pervy specs). Then he tried to repeat Wittgenstein's name to place it.
"Liechtenstein?" he interjected.
Wittgenstein was "the most perfect example I have known of genius as traditionally conceived, passionate, profound, intense, and dominating" (Bertrand Russell).
Liechtenstein is a tax evader's alpine haven.
Talk about a Freudian slip. Sometimes, Marty Gull just writes itself.
I escaped to the loo. When I came back I found him lecturing some ex-students of mine (boys) about the size of his penis. They belittled him admirably with polite knowing smirks. Then they rescued me and took me to another pub. Thanks boys. You've repaid every late essay ;)
Marty Gull Song #12. Send In The Spies
He seemed to know an awful lot about me... which was worrying. Perhaps he hangs out with school management and the local freemasons?
He seemed like a grubby emissary so I probed him (if you'll forgive the expression) to find out more. A lot of it seemed to involve me going abroad. Strange how many strange men have approached me in pubs, knowing things that only school management would know, emphasizing the benefits of me disappearing abroad. Enough to make you a little paranoid sometimes...
Anyway, I digress. After lecturing me about the etymology of education (from the Latin "educare" and "educere" - to bring forth - and "ducere" - "to lead") little African boys and Chaucer's variations on the "c" word, he suddenly criticized me for "over-complicating" things. Which was odd, as I hadn't even said anything yet. But it's a phrase that's been used by several emissaries (from whom, from whom?).
In for a penny, in for a pound. I ripped apart his slightly fascistic lack of philosophy and gave him a (very) dumbed down explanation of Wittgenstein's musings on thought, language and aesthetics. He frowned, blinked, then glared at me (the effect being magnified by his pervy specs). Then he tried to repeat Wittgenstein's name to place it.
"Liechtenstein?" he interjected.
Wittgenstein was "the most perfect example I have known of genius as traditionally conceived, passionate, profound, intense, and dominating" (Bertrand Russell).
Liechtenstein is a tax evader's alpine haven.
Talk about a Freudian slip. Sometimes, Marty Gull just writes itself.
I escaped to the loo. When I came back I found him lecturing some ex-students of mine (boys) about the size of his penis. They belittled him admirably with polite knowing smirks. Then they rescued me and took me to another pub. Thanks boys. You've repaid every late essay ;)
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