My mind, running much on memory's rusted rails-eheu! fugaces labuntur anni- yet focuses, or is brought into focus by, this racial epiphany afforded me when I was a young Tutor at a Crammer in Gloucester road.
What happened was as follows . My students had taken me to dinner and, over the wine, my star pupil said, 'You know, walking into the classroom for the first time and seeing you- I mean, my spirits sank! My father's paying a lot of money to the college and they hire...."
"What?"
"Well, you know... I mean... but, y'see, once you opened your mouth..."
Yes, it's true. Once I open my mouth I do sound so terribly White that colour prejudice melts away. Except, of course, I don't sound White at all- what I do is run after my students trying to stuff bananas up their nostrils shouting 'Me not Black, You Black! Take this banana up your nose you fucking jiggaboo you!"
Still, it seemed to work.
That was till David fucking Cameron became Prime Minister.
Rivers of blood, I say, rivers of blood will run in this country because of that effete French Cambodian rent-boy.
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