George Orwell is better than War-Warwell
Most people would kill for this gig, inside or outside the industry. It’s the first time I’ve been glad I mentioned my History A-level: with History and Literature I’m the go-to person for this one. And he was bound to be more fun than Stalin.
Mind you, the guy had a bit of a rep for being Eeyore-ish. That’s one of the things I don’t like about his work; he always manages to find the very worst places – the most flea-ridden hostels, the filthiest cafes, the most horrible hospitals; he had a nose for them. Leon, being an even bigger fan than I, was mad keen to get in on the act but I said he’d have to wait till dinner and after that no matter what, we’d definitely be watching the DVD. John Hurt and Richard Burton – what’s not to like? And this time I wouldn’t get sent anywhere; I’d stay firmly in the present. No going back.
Or forward, come to that.
He’d be appalled, I imagine, to see how many of his predictions had come true. CCTV on every corner, the triumph of capitalism, the way socialism’s practically a dirty word, that sort of thing. I expect he’d be horrified to see what’d happened to his profession – then again, maybe he’d just nod grimly and say he’d known it all along. Just what would happen, to quote Eeyore.
But he’d be sure to enjoy the food. I could take him to any restaurant and no worries about costume, though I guess he might look a tad old-fashioned. He’d ...
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