in “Private Eye” 29 October 1965
cover of “Private Eye” 13 February 1970
Of course, sadly, so far as anyone can tell, there were no women in Edward Heath’s life. And what is a man without a woman? Ted was selflessly devoted and married to his career. Politics was his wife, his sister, his lover, his mistress, his nurse, his mother superior, his bitch-whore and his White Goddess all rolled into one. And so you get a little joshing, a little guying, a little funning to the effect that Heath was some sort of sexless innocent. With overtones of what? That women weren’t his hot potable infusion? And if so, if there weren’t women in his life then down what dark alleys overcast by black clouds of unnatural vice were one’s thoughts inadvertently led? What unkind, nay dirty-minded, suppositions as to what warm milky fluid he did have a taste for? I fear so.
What a world, what a wicked, wicked world. Ted, you were too pure for us all.