He would see bastardized versions of the Union Jack in the constellations of the bird excrement, and from them derive the inspiration to roar at, and spit on, the earthbound passersby.
There, atop the church, Clive would sit and listen to the pigeons conversing in the chimera’s mouth beneath him, imagining himself motherly, as if he was sitting on the egg. Mary’s Parish Church and straddle the shoulders of the most grotesque of the gargoyles, who had themselves shunned their original place as the statuesque conveyors of the rain to become nesting places, incubating untold generations of pigeons until the city mothers and fathers affixed the gargoyles’ mouths with screens and razor wire, spikes and poisons. In triumph, post-extortion, Clive would ritualistically scale the tower of St.
BODY HEAT MOVIE SOCIOPATH WINDOWS
As such, the boy Clive was sent away, black-eyed and split-lipped, to live with his mother’s sister in a low-lying and coal-blighted neighborhood in Manchester where he, like his father (according to the sister’s husband), “was out of measure addicted to fighting.”Īs a teenager, he started a street gang and protection racket, extorting money from local merchants via violent beatings and vandalism-breaking their fingers and their arms, breaking the windows of their shopfronts and destroying their goods. Perhaps it was because six of his siblings died in infancy that his father descended into the sort of depression that sparked angry, and often violent, outbursts.
According to the Maedition of the Oxford Journal, “There were not people enough left alive to bury the dead.” 1Ĭlive’s parents, Richard and Rebecca, had thirteen children, of which he, Robert, was the eldest. During his reign as governor of Bengal, it was compulsory for farmers to devote their land entirely to these poppies, which led to the Bengal Famine of 1770, responsible for the death of an estimated 10 million people-one-third of the region. But, sure: he has a nice ass.Ĭlive’s ass is the ass of an erratic sociopath who, during his occupation of Bengal in the mid-eighteenth century, was responsible for the slaughter and subsequent pillaging of countless villagers and their villages, and the enslavement of those he left alive, forcing upon them the torturous cultivation of opium.
It’s obvious that he’s trying to hold his mouth in such a way to evoke stoicism, but the tautness there pulls his ailing eyes downward, and the result is a depressing image of a depressive man holding something sour beneath his tongue as penance. His military coat is red and his sash is red and his buttons are gold. In photographs and paintings, eighteenth-century European soldier of fortune Major-General Robert Clive, the First Baron Clive of Plassey (also known as Clive of India), is often seen turning the impressive swell of his right buttock to the camera or painter, his fist pressed firmly into his fat hip, just above a ruffled khaki pocket. Detail of Robert Clive, studio of Nathaniel Dance (later Sir Nathaniel Holland, Bt).