Although he wrote on nonsense there was nothing witty about Wittgenstein. We were stuck fast to his words on the page, seeing paragraphs shimmer over the allusive and the real.  No-one cracked a smile. Was this how you did real philosophy?

 

I tried all my old games: the subtle dig; manufactured outrage; the skewed in-joke—but couldn't shift the mood. There was nothing left but to plough on—in harness, so to speak.

 

On reading this, they will say ‘Is that how you saw it?’ and I will say ‘Not at all. But you know me—I can't resist a good story.’