Wuthering Heights, and particularly Heathcliff, seems to cause strange effects on the political journalists. We have no other justification for these kind of mentions:
First,
The Guardian on Gordon Brown, UK's Chancellor of the Excheque:
The chancellor wore his usual bush-backwards look, crumpled blue suit, pink-ish
tie and glower, the Heathcliff of Kirkcaldy. More to the point, he came heavily
armed with facts, every one of them fine-tuned to destroy Tory attacks.
Next,
The Age on Steve Bracks, Premier of the Australian Victoria state and Peter Batchelor, the Australian Transport Minister.
Yesterday's premier moment marked the meeting of two halves of the EastLink
tunnel (...)
Here for a start was a lost opportunity: how much more jolly would it have been to have had Bracks and Batchelor on either side of the soon-to-be-penetrated rock wall, the pair to meet leaping across the rubble like Heathcliff and Cathy on the moor, or on their knees, little fingers extended as they scraped away the last centimetres like kids excavating sandcastle basements on the beach.
Maybe the secret dream of the journalists is ramble freely across the Brontë country. Now it's easier thanks to the
new right to roam legislation:
Walkers are far more able to enjoy Bronte country and the Yorkshire Dales than a year ago thanks to right to roam legislation, according to the Environment Secretary.
Anyway, the most probable thing is that all of us will end up in an asylum if we continue to see
Wuthering Heights connections in everything:
ASYLUM (R) It's Wuthering Heights in a loony bin when the repressed young wife of an asylum administrator becomes obsessed with a hunky, brooding inmate. Director David Mackenzie is back on the passion-adultery-murder turf familiar from his dank and gritty Young Adam, although the treatment here becomes so broad and absurdly overheated that the movie sometimes feels like one of those Harlequin novels.
Categories: In the News, Wuthering Heights, Weirdo
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