tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30643113.post8403325104968025634..comments2023-10-21T11:46:32.529+01:00Comments on Madame Arcati: Christopher Hitchens: The Bisexual Word GodMadame Arcatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04823823014493798116noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30643113.post-72560808992034909702007-08-30T02:28:00.000+01:002007-08-30T02:28:00.000+01:00Sainsbury's? But it's so provincial, Madame A. I'v...Sainsbury's? But it's so provincial, Madame A. <BR/><BR/>I've been loitering around the Noilly Prat in the Bloomsbury Waitrose these past months; confident I should recognise you, lambent and bewitching as you funk past...Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30643113.post-6599160833119559382007-06-03T10:30:00.000+01:002007-06-03T10:30:00.000+01:00Do you have a blog Mr Le Nige? It would be most en...Do you have a blog Mr Le Nige? It would be most entertaining. As to your fantasy about me, it's probably quite close to the truth, except I prefer Sainsbury's (or Tesco Express if I'm in a hurry). I don't do points (except at Boots).Madame Arcatihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04823823014493798116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30643113.post-20458905905950193942007-06-03T01:39:00.000+01:002007-06-03T01:39:00.000+01:00You are funny. I like to imagine you with a fedora...You are funny. I like to imagine you with a fedora, cocktail cig, a doberman called Zelda, a mantlepiece full of invitations, an inbox full of outboxes, your cheeks perpetually sucked in cheeks alla T Capote, ('My lad, me and you both, Proust'), your head a-swimming with self-reverential whimsy. Then I like to make it all collapse and skitter this way and that by imagining you collecting your Tesco points when you buy your dinky pints of milk and Andrex. But most of the time I prefer to think good things about you and yours. It's just that I'm 'that way out' right now and write how I see fit. A presto, N le NAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30643113.post-6986212944828475192007-06-02T12:18:00.000+01:002007-06-02T12:18:00.000+01:00Thank you Ms B, I'll hunt down that piece of his o...Thank you Ms B, I'll hunt down that piece of his on Hay. It also fascinates me that if he were not a highly successful contrarian - I'd love him to narrate Eurovision on absinthe - his alcoholism would not be treated so lightly. He would be a "case", the sort who might end up on a Trevor McDonald special investigation on booze. I hope Mr H is not turning into the next Jeffrey Barnard. His legs might fall off.Madame Arcatihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04823823014493798116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30643113.post-44790475603043620412007-06-01T23:38:00.000+01:002007-06-01T23:38:00.000+01:00Mme A, this post fills me with delight. It is true...Mme A, this post fills me with delight. It is true that the man writes like an angel, believe in them or nay as he may. Why, only last week or so there was a column by him in the Guardian all about Hay - indeed, in his angelic manner he very suitably called it Way on High - which thrilled me: it was only a description of his humdrum existence, but it was like reading about glittering otherworldly beings. I think he even mentions fairy dust in it, and fairy dust has been a bit current in my life lately. <BR/><BR/>At any rate, his column filled me with delight and now your post is doing the same. And a dangling participle gives me a headache every time I see it. It's best to remember these things.Ms Baroquehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01836227454899083962noreply@blogger.com