Add those topless pictures of him on the beach that we published in Now last week to the mix, and I think I'm starting to get where all you women who want to be Cumberbatched are coming from...
Unlike historical novels, Rushdie sacrifices historical chronologicity, factual details regarding event, place, action, character, time etc., and then combines fictional narrative with historical narration.
Shall we, I say, that have been so long civil and wealthy in peace, famous and invincible in war, fortunate in both, we that have been ever able to aid any of our neighbours (but never deafed any of their ears with any of our supplications for assistance) shall we, I say, without blushing, abase ourselves so far, as to imitate these beastly Indians, slaves to the Spaniards, refuse to the world, and as yet aliens from the holy covenant of God?
What kind of a cold-hearted bitch does that, You stinky twatted sadistic whore.
