the spy who came in from the cold


“like a gypsy,
poor thing, but
it’s paid hands
down”—John Le Carré
The Spy Who Came
In From the Cold

Spies and homosexuals have had a great deal in common over the years—especially during the duplicitous Cold War period.

Both spies and queers are in the same racket—lies, duplicity, espionage, double-dealing, trickery. Throw in secrecy, closetry and all the rest and—then you get a feel for what it’s all about.

For example, in the military with “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”—they said you could do it but don’t talk about it, my dears. 

With DOMA it still has to do with the paranoia and grievous fears of the helpless, vulnerable str8ts—their perceived need to defend the American Family and Institution of Marriage from the queer assaults of gays, lesbians, transsexuals and bisexuals.

Lately the Heteronormative Berlin Wall seems to be in a state of coming down—the old Religious Right Political Block falling down like Humpty Dumpty with nobody able to put it back together again.

Going mainstream and getting accommodated—the GLBT faction seemingly now wants to normalize itself with the Gay Marriage Issue going on state by state up the ladder to the Supremes.

The Love that couldn’t utter its name—now seems to be quite the avant garde Fashion now.

“Now don’t fuss,”
he said soothingly
“lets take things
one at a time”
—John Le Carré
The Spy Who Came
In From the Cold

Ashe was a pansy who liked young jailbirds—Leamas wasn’t young anymore but it didn’t seem to make any difference to Ashe. 

Ashe minced, cruised and was rather obsequious—a sure giveaway for the usual weak-wristed faggot type. He said his name was Ashe spelled with an “E”—but Leamas knew the fag was a lying sissy.

Michael Horden the perfect actor to play Ashe—with his sad droopy, downcast, perpetually pouty face. Always setting himself up for rude put-downs. Then objecting strenuously that you’d offended him somehow—by being rude and impertinent.

Horden starred in gay flicks like “You Know What Sailors Are” (1954)—and in the Alain Delon flick “The Yellow Rolls Royce” (1964). 

Graham Greene praised Le Carré’s spy novel—and everybody knew what a fag spy Miss Greene was. Cavorting on Capri with the native Italian boys—and doing South America for sex, adventure and authorial inspiration. 

And so dreary-dearie Miss Horden did a simply superb job downplaying the desultory gay spy who—began the slow seduction and downfall of Richard Burton the cynical, moody spy who wanted to come in from the cold.

Spying was the second oldest profession in this dreary weary faggy old world—and there’s never been any honor among thieves, my dear. 

Spies, snakes, queers and whores—running things ever since the Garden of Eden way back then.

“they picked me up
this morning. A pansy”
—John Le Carré
The Spy Who Came
In From the Cold

Ashe’s absurdly passive role was repelling—it brought out the bully in Leamas. 

He would lead the fag into saying one thing then—
he’d get him to scamper back from some cul-de-sac. Leamas got so brazenly perverse that Ashe—would be justified terminating their conversation. 

Leamas was indulging in his sadistic nature—even though he wasn’t a man of particular subtlety. But he simply wanted to prove that a man like Ashe with a strong ulterior motive—would put up with as much shit as he could dump on him.

“Let’s have a drink,” Ashe said to Leamas. A large whiskey for Leamas—a pink gin for Miss Ashe. 

Ashe had a cheap flat in Dolph Square—hastily assembled with chintzy second-rate furniture and paintings. Leamas smiled—he was now a kept man.

They went out to the tawdry Pussy Willow Club—inside the dark hole the subdued moan of strippers and music. 

“Now perhaps you’ll
tell me what the bloody
hell is going on”
—John Le Carré
The Spy Who Came
In From the Cold

Ashe glanced at Leamas uneasily—while his boss Kiever seemed slightly bored. 

“What do you mean, my dear Alec?”—Ashe asked rather uncertainly and nervously.

“You followed me from prison when I was released—with some silly story of meeting me in Berlin. Then you gave me money you didn’t owe me—and bought me expensive dinner, Ashe.”

“And now you’re putting me up in your flat—using a phony name and all that. That’s what I mean—what the fuck is this all about?”

Ashe grew pale—looked at Kiever for guidance.

“Get out” said Kiever angrily and dismissively. 

Ashe was shocked—he put on his miffed, offended routine all over again. But then he thought better of it and said “Whatever you say, Dick—is alright with me.”

He stood up and moped from the table. His face was so long and utterly trashed that he dragged it along the club’s dirty floor. 

Ashe was such a pitiful fag—having long ago got used to always being kicked and sneered at. By his bosses like Kiever—as well as young handsome toughs just out of jail there in the park.

Kiever suggested to Leamas—“Let’s get down to business now, Leamas.”

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