Amid celebrations of plane crashes and the imminent extermination of everyone congenitally uncongenial (uncongenital?) to a deranged fascist from Omaha, Malcolm ZZZ in his must-read 1963 Alex Haley interview for Playboy makes the following interesting assertion :
When I’m traveling around the country, I use my real Muslim name, Malik Shabazz. I make my hotel reservations under that name, and I always see the same thing I’ve just been telling you. I come to the desk and always … when I say “Malik Shabazz,” their whole attitude changes: they snap to respect.
Sorry, but that’s bollocks with bells on. In my mad phase I used to walk into hotels, say “Malik Shabazz,” and give the Nebraskan nod, and the only time deskman didn’t start playing footsie with the panic button was in the Okura in Amsterdam where he said, “Ah! Juuoki!” Bet he didn’t last long.
(Speaking of evil magicians, if you’re one of God’s shaven people and some freaking street clown does => to you, the solution is to run off very quickly with it still attached to your head, unobtrusively take a seat in a nearby café, and watch them trying to figure out what comes next.)
- Wilful mondegreens from the popular repertoire
Lionel Richie opens a butchery in Bradford, while Frank Sinatra with the Count Basie Orchestra refuse to sell a raspberry ripple
- Of faggots and Fords
Unlike motorcars, bicycles take you through village centres and allow you to park outside at any interesting-looking drinking hole you encounter.
- El Gran Picasso and his ping-pong balls
I bumped into El Gran Picasso in a bar down south and thought stories of his epic exploits in Vegas must
- Is Seumas Milne a Spanish secret agent?
Bugger takes the wall.
- Burying Bakunin
Homage to Catalonia achieved the double-whammy of focusing attention on the Stalinist terror that followed the 1937 coup while whitewashing the