This is not to be merely provocative, but rather to observe one of history’s milder ironic possibilities .
If This Is a Man, that most vital work published in the ashes of 1946 Europe, could easily have borne the title: Mein Kampf.
The sordid irony of location in human history has never been so cruelly exemplified as it now is, in the actions of the brazenly barbarous Islamic State. Their opportunistic infection of the Hobbesian chaos of Syria, and the militarily porous swathes of northern Iraq, places the refitted jackboot of theological fascism on land to which the world owes a debt.
BOTH campaigns in this seemingly perpetual EU debate have built certain of their houses on foundations of slippery definition, linguistic sleight of hand, and idealistic stupidity -most obviously in the form of the category error.
Next time it would be to the nation’s credit we employed a bit more clarity in speech, and thought.
TO CONTEMPLATE the unbearable sh**eness of being a Newcastle fan.
I have ripped this title from the stunning 1984 novel by the intimidatingly talented Milan Kundera.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being begins with an abstract philosophical thought, essentially, ‘what do we put on the scales?’ (Mike Ashley is not the answer).
For some ‘being’ is light. Life is easy, happy-go-lucky: free. For others, it is a weighty affair, full of meaning. The novel challenges us to ask, ‘which type are we?’, and ‘is it worth it?’ To my continual pain, one I’m sure is shared, so does the beautiful game.