Dreams of Sex and Stage Diving by Martin Millar Page A

as well as being a famous philosopher, also had a huge capacity for alcohol and did not become drunk. Eventually Alcibiades said to Socrates that it was getting late so why didn’t Socrates just stay the night?
    Socrates agreed, and Alcibiades, fully intending to have sex with him, covered him where he lay on the couch with a blanket, then got under the blanket himself. Unfortunately for Alcibiades, nothing happened. Despite the fact that Alcibiades was the most desirable man in Athens and had every reason to suppose that Socrates would be unable to resist him, Socrates did not react, and politely declined Alcibiades’ advances.

    â€œIsn’t that interesting?” said Aran.
    Elfish looked blank.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause it was two thousand years ago and people are still acting the same, namely asking someone round, plying them with drink and then saying, ‘It’s too late to go, you might as well stay.’ I’ve done it myself.”
    â€œAnd lost your girlfriend.”
    â€œWell, yes, there is that. Possibly Alcibiades suffered the same problem. Do you want to know what happened to him as the Peloponnesian War progressed?”
    â€œDefinitely not,” said Elfish. Her eyes were already glazing over. She sometimes consented to listen to Aran’s stories but she rarely found anything of interest in them.

twenty
    THE FOUR WOMEN with whom Elfish shared the old house had tried their best to like Elfish but she made it impossible. They had done their utmost to be understanding but one and a half years of Elfish’s continual refusal to pay bills or buy food, and utter inability to wash a dish or clear up her mess after her had worn them out.
    In the face of frustrated demands for her share of the telephone bill, a considerable amount, or even a few pence for the soap and lightbulb fund, Elfish would remain calmly unconcerned. Even under intense questioning about the fate of four beers Marion had had in the fridge, Elfish could display a Zen-like calm, refusing to descend to the level of petty household squabbles. Only if, as had happened before, her flatmates unearthed suspicious empty beer cans stuffed in the bottom of the rubbish bin would Elfish become animated, and violently accuse the others of interfering in her business and roundly condemn them for daring to question her word.
    They all strongly desired that she would leave the house but as Elfish was among those who originally squatted it they felt unable to use actual force to get rid of her.
    This house had once been a place of optimism and activity but it had recently become a dark and sad place. Elfish’s dreadful
behaviour notwithstanding, the four other occupants—Marion, Chevon, Gail and Perlita—had until only last month been bright and active participants in the projected production of a small independent feminist newspaper. This was to be a journal for young women and the mock-up they had made was a pleasingly chaotic South London mix of extreme politics, music articles and hastily scrawled cartoons.
    Now, after devoting almost their entire existences to it, they were facing failure. They could not raise the money to produce the first issue. Worse, they had failed to find a distributor. Even if they could have raised the money, without a distributor the project would never get off the ground. Distribution was a key element, and as any small radical journal such as theirs would never be welcomed with open arms by distributors who were entirely concerned with large volume sales, it had always been a matter of some doubt as to whether they would be able to find one. The only alternative was to distribute it themselves by taking it around bookshops on their bicycles and suchlike but this would get them no further than one or two small outlets in London. This did not seem worthwhile. The whole point had been to break away from such small-scale communication and talk to the rest of the country. Now, after