Golden Memories: The Machine

In the 1970s, only three percent of a generation went to a place called 'University'. This meant that most of us were a bit smug and cocky, totally out of touch with what the world would hold for us afterwards. But I had one friend who took cocky to a whole new level.

He was a right wing Austrian, inveterate womaniser and supreme egotist. At all times he carried two collections of photographs; one pornographic with himself as the subject of fellatio, and the other surgical with a group of masked clinicians operating on animals. This was claimed to be one of his pastimes during vacations.

His life was run like a well lubricated Teutonic machine, with detailed plans for everything, dozens of immaculately ironed underpants occupying every drawer in his room, and a complete inability to pass any mirror without grooming himself. He happily announced that he was psychologically incapable of seeing optical illusions and that he could not walk in the rain, because he had a silver plate in his skull.

"I vish I vas a machine" he once said.

He once ate some magic mushrooms to demonstrate that they would have no effect on him. And the worst experience of his life occurred when a drunk young lady spurned his advances because she needed to puke in his sink, whilst farting loudly.

He said he would be pleased to visit my home town, but expected all the women under 40 to welcome him by lining the streets in karma sutra positions.

Strangely enough, this most remarkable fellow is one of the few old friends I have failed to trace through the internet.

Whatever happened to you, J.?