A Gathering of Post-modern Twee

It is an ambition of mine never to attend the Hay on Wye literary festival.

I formed this ambition in the last few seconds reading about the latest line-up of authors and their antics.

First up was Gore Vidal, generationally speaking a member of America's Greatest. He was talking about how in the good old days despite a man's best efforts the fruit of his loins might evade abortion.

Then there was Cherie Blair, who was talking of her passion to weaken the barriers (ie. men) that afflict womankind. She hasn't done that already with Tony?

Then finally an insipid Hague, Fffion, with her coyly titled "The Women in Lloyd George's Life". Not Lloyd George's women, then, after all?

And what is post-modern twee? It is the denial of anything outside the acutely vulnerable selfish obsessions of post-modern western sensibility, the historically one-eyed, geo-politically ignorant, fey yet avaricious closed circle of sheepshearers we call our educated literary classes.