I think my sense of politics came into being at the dinner table the first time my father was carving up a roast chicken, and turned to me, saying, "Okay, who wants the Pope's Nose?" Of course since I was just a bookwise, dumbass kid, I had to ask him, "Daddy, what's that?"
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I think my sense of politics came into being at the dinner table the first time my father was carving up a roast chicken, and turned to me, saying, "Okay, who wants the Pope's Nose?" Of course since I was just a bookwise, dumbass kid, I had to ask him, "Daddy, what's that?" My Father was enjoying every second of this because that gave him the leeway he needed to point to the flabby overhang just above where the chicken's arsehole would have been. "Right there, Dean, right there. Exactly where politicians talk from, especially that flannel-mouthed bastard Pearson."
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