THE I OF THE BEHOLDER
Beauty was in the eye of the beholder as he beheld her across Piccadilly Circus with a dumb and gasping awe. Now Cupid, being at that moment in a whimsical mood, drew his bow at this adventure and also pierced Beauty’s heart, making her equally struck with a heart beating passion as she glanced sideways to be sure he was looking at her. I can assure you not even Romeo or Juliet felt a passion such as this.
But, as with the Italian lovers, our hero and heroine suffered from parental problems. His was that, to his knowledge, he had none. He had had a hard and orphaned upbringing in the lowest class of society, and only his philosophically resilient attitude to his lot had allowed him to mature as he had. Nevertheless, he was extremely handsome in her beautiful, come-hither, aristocratic, melting and totally amorous eyes.
Yet she too had a Cross to bear. The darling of her family, she alone was worth every penny of £750,000, but still life was extremely cruel to her. What use were refined manners, unimpeachable ancestry and a beautiful coiffure when one was never allowed to spend an unattended second with a member of the opposite sex? Strong indeed was the family hold on her when any undesirable beaux were present. So, as he crossed Piccadilly Circus, a sad but adoring look was cast at him by his innamorata. Sad, for as she blushed at him she was bundled into a Rolls Royce and hastily driven away leaving him in no doubt as to the futility of his quest.
And, as he strolled into the middle of the Circus, the little canine cur sighed saying silently to himself. “And sod you too mate!” as he lifted his left hind leg and urinated on the base of Eros’ column.