I Think In Retrospect That All Those

The British And American Literary Worlds Operate In An Odd Kind Of Symbiosis: Our Critics Think Our Contemporary Novelists Are Not The Stuff Of Greatness Whereas Certain Contemporary Americans Indubitably Are. Their Critics Often Advance The Exact Opposite: British Fiction Is Cool, American Naff.

When George Vi - Displaying A Flair For Timing That Was Utterly Absent In His Lifetime - Upped And Died, The Way Was Clear For Her To Inhabit Her Logical Position As The Eminence Cerise, The Bolster Behind The Throne.

The Cynics Are Correct The Sense Of Freewill Is Only That Feeling Which We Have When We Take The Necessitated Option That Most Appeals To Us.

Lust Was A Positive High-tension Cable, Plugged Into My Core, Activating A Near-epileptic Seizure Of Conviction That This Was The One Thing I Had To Do In Life.

If The Seventies Were Bulbous, And The Eighties Sharp, The Nineties Were Nothing But Bogus.