Lisa Jones wrote on Nov 5
th, 2023 at 1:12pm:
Frank wrote on Nov 5
th, 2023 at 12:55pm:
MeisterEckhart wrote on Nov 5
th, 2023 at 12:17pm:
Frank wrote on Nov 5
th, 2023 at 12:04pm:
They thank God for giving them the Arabs, with the mental capacity approximating yours, for enemies.
Israelis also deeply resent Arab-Israelis. The hatred goes both ways and as deep.
Up to a point, Lord Copper.
Lord Copper???
That evening Mr Salter, foreign editor of the Beast, was summoned to dinner at his chief's country seat at East Finchley. It was a highly unwelcome invitation; Mr Salter normally worked at the office until nine o'clock. That evening he had planned a holiday at the opera; he and his wife had been looking forward to it with keen enjoyment for some weeks. As he drove out to Lord Copper's frightful mansion he thought sadly of those carefree days when he had edited the Woman's Page, or, better still, when he had chosen the jokes for one of Lord Copper's comic weeklies. It was the policy of the Megalopolitan to keep the staff alert by constant changes of occupation. Mr Salter's ultimate ambition was to take charge of the Competitions. Meanwhile he was Foreign Editor and found it a dog's life.
The two men dined alone. They ate parsley soup, whiting, roast veal, cabinet pudding; they drank whisky and soda. Lord Copper explained Nazism, Fascism and Communism; later, in his ghastly library, he outlined the situation in the Far East. 'The Beast stands for strong mutually antagonistic governments everywhere,' he said. 'Self sufficiency at home, self assertion abroad.'
Mr Salter's side of the conversation was limited to expressions of assent. When Lord Copper was right, he said, 'Definitely, Lord Copper'; when he was wrong, 'Up to a point.'
'Let me see, what's the name of the place I mean? Capital of Japan? Yokohama, isn't it?'
'Up to a point, Lord Copper.'
'And Hong Kong belongs to us, doesn't it?'
'Definitely, Lord Copper.'
After a time: 'Then there's this civil war in Ishmaelia. I propose to feature it. Who did you think of sending?'
'Well, Lord Copper, the choice seems between sending a staff reporter who will get the news but whose name the public doesn't know, or to get someone from outside with a name as a military expert. You see since we lost Hitchcock...'
'Yes, yes. He was our only man with a European reputation. I know. Zinc will be sending him. I know. But he was wrong about the battle of Hastings. It was 1066. I looked it up. I won't employ a man who isn't big enough to admit when he's wrong.'
'We might share one of the Americans?'
'No, I tell you who I want; Boot.'
'Boot?'
'Yes, Boot. He's a young man whose work I'm very much interested in. He has the most remarkable style and he's been in Patagonia and the Prime Minister keeps his books by his bed. Do you read him?'
'Up to a point, Lord Copper.'
'Well get onto him tomorrow. Have him up to see you. Be cordial. Take him out to dinner. Get him at any price. Well, at any reasonable price,' he added for there had lately been a painful occurrence when instructions of this kind, given in an expansive mood, had been too literally observed and a trick-cyclist who had momentarily attracted Lord Copper's attention, had been engaged to edit the Sports Page on a five years' contract at five thousand a year.
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