the kind of idea Iâve been looking for. But youâd have to come in with me. I couldnât possibly do it on my own. You know everything about Jewish food, I know nothing. With your knowledge and my business degree, we could make a mint. Just think.â
In an instant Melvin came to and pulled himself back from his capitalist reverie. How on earth he had let down his Marxist guard, he had no idea.
Furious with himself, he proceeded to deliver an indignant snotty lecture, the gist of which was that he had no desire to become another slave-owning cog in the plutocratic machine, and that his allegiance remained with the urban proletariat and their struggle against the greedy capitalist might of Callaghan and his henchmen.
***
In the weeks that followed, she asked him again and again to give up the Oxfam aid worker idea and become her business partner once theyâd both graduated. Each time she mentioned it, he got furious and presented her with another left-wing diatribe. After a while, she stopped asking. In the end she said that as their political differences kept coming between them and making them both miserable, she thought it best they stopped seeing one another. Although she turned him on like no other woman he had met, his commitment to Rebecca couldnât compete with his commitment to the class struggle.
While Melvin sat alone in his room night after night mourning the passing of their relationship, particularly the passing of the sex part, Rebecca, he discovered from mutual friends, was, alongside studying for her finals, plotting and planning her way towards becoming the worldâs first bagel mogul, Jewish partner or no.
It wasnât long before she had convinced Emma, her sweet but thick elocution teacher, to lend her five hundred quid and her Mini. A couple of weeks later she was making a regular Saturday-morning foray to the Redbridge Lane Bagel Bakery in Ilford, which Melvin had told her about, and which, being run by Israelis, didnât bother with such religious niceties as closing for the Sabbath. She would leave campus at four in the morning, get to the bakery just as it opened, load up the Mini with ten dozen ready-made smoked salmon bagels and then dash back up the Ml in order to reach the entrance to the Nottingham Forest ground - where sheâd convinced the club to let her set up a stall - well before kick-off. If she could sell bagels to rain-soaked, beer-filled Midlands football fans, and she did, right from the start - she reckoned she could sell them anywhere.
Melvin meanwhile decided that the only way for him to get over Rebecca was to immerse himself even further in political activity. Uninterested though he was in anything remotely Jewish, he had begun to get quite disturbed by the trend towards old-fashioned anti-Semitism which was sweeping the left in the guise of anti-Israel sentiment. It was due to this phenomenon that he developed a new, if qualified, support for his kinfolk - and met and fell in love with Beverley Gold.
It happened one lunchtime in the studentsâ union bar. Melvin, along with fifty or so other Jewish students, had turned up to disrupt an anti-Israel meeting organised by the Young Liberals. The speaker, an overweight, sweaty boy in a Harris tweed sports jacket with leather arm patches, was less than five minutes into his address, at the bit where he was suggesting that the six million Holocaust victims were a Hollywood myth sponsored by Jewish capital, when the Jews began hurling abuse and chanting, âNazis out.â
Beverley was standing in front of Melvin, yelling and waving her arms in fury. At some stage during her passionate display of ethnic solidarity, her fist ended up making contact with his nose, causing it to discharge a thick stream of blood which coursed down his chin and neck and ended up defacing his brand new Stuff the Jubilee T-shirt. So great did Melvinâs blood loss appear that the Jews, convinced that he was
In an instant Melvin came to and pulled himself back from his capitalist reverie. How on earth he had let down his Marxist guard, he had no idea.
Furious with himself, he proceeded to deliver an indignant snotty lecture, the gist of which was that he had no desire to become another slave-owning cog in the plutocratic machine, and that his allegiance remained with the urban proletariat and their struggle against the greedy capitalist might of Callaghan and his henchmen.
***
In the weeks that followed, she asked him again and again to give up the Oxfam aid worker idea and become her business partner once theyâd both graduated. Each time she mentioned it, he got furious and presented her with another left-wing diatribe. After a while, she stopped asking. In the end she said that as their political differences kept coming between them and making them both miserable, she thought it best they stopped seeing one another. Although she turned him on like no other woman he had met, his commitment to Rebecca couldnât compete with his commitment to the class struggle.
While Melvin sat alone in his room night after night mourning the passing of their relationship, particularly the passing of the sex part, Rebecca, he discovered from mutual friends, was, alongside studying for her finals, plotting and planning her way towards becoming the worldâs first bagel mogul, Jewish partner or no.
It wasnât long before she had convinced Emma, her sweet but thick elocution teacher, to lend her five hundred quid and her Mini. A couple of weeks later she was making a regular Saturday-morning foray to the Redbridge Lane Bagel Bakery in Ilford, which Melvin had told her about, and which, being run by Israelis, didnât bother with such religious niceties as closing for the Sabbath. She would leave campus at four in the morning, get to the bakery just as it opened, load up the Mini with ten dozen ready-made smoked salmon bagels and then dash back up the Ml in order to reach the entrance to the Nottingham Forest ground - where sheâd convinced the club to let her set up a stall - well before kick-off. If she could sell bagels to rain-soaked, beer-filled Midlands football fans, and she did, right from the start - she reckoned she could sell them anywhere.
Melvin meanwhile decided that the only way for him to get over Rebecca was to immerse himself even further in political activity. Uninterested though he was in anything remotely Jewish, he had begun to get quite disturbed by the trend towards old-fashioned anti-Semitism which was sweeping the left in the guise of anti-Israel sentiment. It was due to this phenomenon that he developed a new, if qualified, support for his kinfolk - and met and fell in love with Beverley Gold.
It happened one lunchtime in the studentsâ union bar. Melvin, along with fifty or so other Jewish students, had turned up to disrupt an anti-Israel meeting organised by the Young Liberals. The speaker, an overweight, sweaty boy in a Harris tweed sports jacket with leather arm patches, was less than five minutes into his address, at the bit where he was suggesting that the six million Holocaust victims were a Hollywood myth sponsored by Jewish capital, when the Jews began hurling abuse and chanting, âNazis out.â
Beverley was standing in front of Melvin, yelling and waving her arms in fury. At some stage during her passionate display of ethnic solidarity, her fist ended up making contact with his nose, causing it to discharge a thick stream of blood which coursed down his chin and neck and ended up defacing his brand new Stuff the Jubilee T-shirt. So great did Melvinâs blood loss appear that the Jews, convinced that he was
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