Wednesday, 21 April 2010

The mole

There are a few bits of literature out there that deserve to, nay need to, be preserved for the cockroach civilization that is bound to follow us, somewhere down the road to eternity. Hamlet, for example (though I have never seen what all the fuss was about - just kill the bleeder and be done with it). The Cherry Orchard. The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. (Only joking). Sadly, I've not created any masterpieces. The Live Parrot sketch hardly ranks alongside leaping nuns or Del Boy falling over.

But this. It's not particularly new (I first read it ages ago), and it is, after all, only a restaurant review, but it is the English language stretched to its absolute limit. Incredible.

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