No, no, darlings, sorry to disappoint you, this is not another of my thespian remembrances - er, you are disappointed, aren't you? Well, yes of course you are but you will be receiving the final instalment very shortly - sorry, I didn't quite catch that . . . Anyway, this particular 'blast' is from my 'past' blogging days. For you old blogging veterans I need only write one title, 'Lenin's Tomb' and one name, Richard Seymour. Ah yes, does that ever bring back the memories!
Richard Seymour is a sort of political equivalent to that dipstick theatrical director who, when directing Hamlet recently, decided that Shakespeare really, really didn't know how to construct his plays and so she altered great chunks of the text. Seymour has a somewhat similar view on Marx and Lenin and feels that, you know, in a very deep and meaningful way they really, really didn't understand, er, Marxism. Yeeeeees, quite!
Even so, finding him on this 'new-fangled-web-thingie' all those years ago was a total joy to me because there is nothing I enjoy more than a good political argument. Alas, my joy was swiftly ended when the freedom-loving Seymour banned me. I know, shockin', shockin'! I believe 'SoD' had a go later but he didn't last much longer than me.
Very occasionally, this pseudo-intellectual has cropped up on the fringes of the news but yesterday he hit the headlines. He had attempted to defend Jeremy Corbyn's remarks to the effect that the entire Falklands campaign was a Tory plot. This brought forth a sharp response from ex-Guardsman Simon Weston OBE, a man who left most of his face on a burning ship just off the Falkland's shore.
Quick as a flash and with all the intelligence you would expect from a Marxist pseudo intellectual, Seymour issued this incisive response:
"Seriously, who gives a shit what Simon Weston thinks about anything? If he knew anything, he would still have a face."
Or to put it another way:
'Hilariously, who gives a shit what Richard Seymour thinks about anything? If he knew anything, he'd go and look for what passes for his brain.'