Am I an ogre?

I ask purely because I’ve been accused of frothing at the mouth, disrespecting other people’s experience and lashing out at everybody around me in my rage and frustration.

Now this was on Quora during a discussion of Brexit but I’m still a little concerned.

Perhaps being in the Far Isles for so long has been a bad influence on me. I play the role of a retired monarch, a Cardinal Archbishop of the Catholic Church and so I have a tendency when in character to say unto one ‘go’ and expect that he will and that right speedily.

Or maybe it’s the Oxford influence. I’ve never thought I was one of the elite. I’ve met a few and they didn’t welcome me into their company with glad cries and mentions of Old Times Sake. But perhaps the attitude has rubbed on along with the accent.

And there was the moment in New York when Ann said to me that I really couldn’t address the people preparing my breakfast in those tones even if they had got my order wrong.

I have, as a matter of policy, stopped being polite about Brexit though. It is hard to get an idea into the mind of someone who is hostile to everything about it so I can’t claim I’m fighting to convert Leavers into Remainers. what I think I am doing is fighting the memetic battle for those people who aren’t sure or who don’t much care.

And a voice at the back of my mind says: How many of those do you think are hanging around on Quora, you old fraud? You are really there for the pleasure of having something you give a damn about to argue around and about.

Well, maybe. I yip like the little dog in the Tarot card, trying to keep his master away from the precipice. I drop words in people’s ears and hope against hope that things might swing back my way.

Which is, of course, the way of sanity and sweet reason. Trust me on this.