Sunday, December 02, 2007

A love defiled


Mr Eugenides has been affronted recently by Google's suggestion that his blog might satisfy the baser appetites of fellow admirers of that fragrant red rose which passes by the name of Wendy Alexander; he should therefore avert his gaze from the tasteless speculation peddled by The Englishman this week with regard to hard-boiled eggs and straws.

Just to remind you, the poor little Greek boy's paean to Wendy stands as one of the most affecting blog posts of this (or any other) year:

How shall I count the ways? Eyes, wide and bright like saucers of champagne, yet also dark and passionate as goblets of ruby Buckfast. A neck, slender and playful like a faun’s, framed by hair delicate yet supple, like silken ropes of song. Her mouth – the mouth that launched a thousand policy discussions – a mouth that seems to defy the laws of physics, that exists in four or even five dimensions, curving space and time around it into an exquisite event horizon of pure sensuality. Breasts like quivering moulds of vodka jelly, barely restrained by the power suits and prim blouses, with peaks hauntingly reminiscent of Paisley Abbey on a misty, moonlit night. And the lisp – O, the lisp! Each word magically transformed into a teasing, seductive invitation that no mythological siren of yore could ever hope to match. And Wendy knows lots of words; she’s brighter than a brain pie.
Etc, etc.

And just when Wendy's current travails might dampen his spirits (if not his ardour), Mr E will also be dismayed to learn that being 'Wendied' may not turn out to be quite what he imagines.

P.S. To rub salt into the wound, he also fails to feature on the map of Wendy's achievements, teasingly entitled 'What has Wendy Done for Me?'

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