Tracey MacLeod restaurant column in today's Independent ( London) has this priceless story -
http://enjoyment.independent.co.uk/food ... 338095.ece
Our charmingly accented French waitress was efficient and friendly to the point of coquettishness - to the obvious discomfort of one of my guests, Alexei Sayle. Informed that the devilled kidneys he fancied were off, and that "the only devil around here is me", he gazed Eeyorishly down at the menu. And when she twinkled "no dessert for you? Sweet enough?" at him, he dead-batted her with "No - fat enough." As she retired defeated, he defended his refusal to engage in flirtatious banter with the unanswerable line: "There's no one as keen on clearly delineated boundaries as a Marxist."
Dealing with coquettishness
- miss buenos aires
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Actually, almost all the male Marxists I've ever encountered seemed to be in it primarily for the babes. Unless you count the Academic Marxists, who, of course, will be the first put up against the wall and shot when the Revolution comes.
http://www.forwardtoyesterday.com -- Where "hopelessly dated" is a compliment!
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