On a recent jaunt to London, Rhiannon, Dr G and I went to Highgate Cemetary.
Specifically, we went to Highgate Cemetary East. Admission was £3. I don’t know if you have to pay to get into Highgate Cemetery West. Maybe it’s free there because the residents aren’t as accomplished. Honestly, I’d never got an inferiority complex from a headstone before, but this place was chockers with overachievers – poets, artists, philanthropists, medical pioneers, Iraqi communists. Sometimes all of the above the same time.
But the crowdpleaser at Highgate is the one and only Karl Marx. He gets his own sign at the gate, so if you’re a tightarse Scotsman and start spluttering about the fee, your companions can point to it and say, “But they’ve got Karl in there!”
It’s a big whopper of a grave. Karl looks like a jack-in-a-box, stuck and helpless. Sorry world, about Lenin and Stalin et al. As you can see I have no body. I just came up with the ideas, and those dipshits went totally mental with them.
Amongst all the flowers someone had left Karl Marx two oranges. Anyone got a theory about that one?