Stalin Ate My Homework
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Alexei Sayle was born in Liverpool on the day egg rationing came to an end. His family ate salad. They read the Soviet Weekly. They travelled on transcontinental trains, and in the back of futuristic limousines. They saw Communism in action and ate strange smelling sausages. His mother was very keen on boiled eggs and the Moscow State Circus. Teachers were scared of her. His father was a union leader who made friends wherever he went. He thought he was fluent in Esperanto. Alexei became a member of the CzechoslovakianYoung Pioneers. Sometimes he was bored and other times confused. He thought he might be a great athlete, or maybe a famous artist. He spent a lot of time inventing complex explanations for the bizarre behaviour of grown-ups. Slowly it dawned on him that telling stories was a good way of making sense of his perplexing world.
every evening lying dead on the pavement, I started making my own imitation weapons out of bread. I would chew an L-shape into a slice of Hovis, then smuggle it out of the house so I could run around the streets shooting other kids with my wholemeal pistol. I brought such conviction to my play-acting that the other kids were persuaded that my bread gun possessed a degree of firepower, and as long as it didn’t rain I was fine. After a while, though, my parents could see that I was being made to
delegates. The other Czech commando, Kubis, threw a modified antitank grenade at the vehicle and its fragments ripped through the car, embedding shrapnel and fibres from the upholstery in Heydrich’s body The assassins were initially convinced that the attack had failed, but Heydrich died eight days later from blood poisoning caused either by shrapnel from the bomb or by fragments of upholstery which had entered his spleen. Next, feeling slightly sick, we got back into our fleet of black
months and appearances had been scheduled at Hope Hall in Liverpool and various other venues around the North-west. As the date for their arrival came closer I thought more and more about these dancers. In my imaginings I was the sophisticated host showing them around my home city In fact it was only the pretty blonde female ones who were in my daydreams — the boys had mysteriously vanished. Unfortunately, that was the limit of my powers. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get the
politics, which was fine by me. Glen was less political than Cliff, who shared his parents ‘beliefs, and a less restrained character. I was very honoured to be invited to a small party in their flat to celebrate Maeve and Len’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary Apart from me there were only family members present, except their oldest son who was nowhere to be seen. Then, just after 10.30 when the pubs closed, Glen turned up drunk with three or four straggly-haired, whey-faced hippies. There were
could come in at any time of the day that you wanted and there would be sexy girls and drugs and you called the lecturers by their first names and went to parties at their flats and they gave you lifts home in their sports cars and they treated you as an equal. Unlike at school where they were. Nobody invited me to stay and have a kick-about with them, so I turned and strode away like I had somewhere else to be. It seemed to me that they would have liked to be different and I would have liked to