Advice

W. and I never make a point of finding someone to discourage. They must find us, deliberately seeking us out, since we who are the last people to whom anyone would want to speak. Of course, and we are always ready. We're friendly, if nothing else, and it amuses us when people throw themselves upon our mercy. – 'You must be really desperate. We're the last people you should talk to. It'll get you nowhere'.

What advice do we give? What do we tell them? – 'You should leave at once. It's terrible. You shouldn't spend another day here. You'll go mad'. People like them don't belong here, we tell them. – 'They'll hate you. They probably already do'. And then, our best advice, 'You have to know you're a failure. That's absolutely essential'. We know we're failures, don't we? We're the worst of all. We're from the wrong class, we tell them. – 'The difference is that I can pretend to be middle class, and he can't', W. says. I agree. – 'He's either overpolite, or surly', W. says. I can't help it, I say, spreading my hands.

On the other hand, we point out, I saved W. from the high table. Everyone agrees: since he's met me, his work's really gone downhill. We laugh. – 'He's destroying my career', says W. 'No, really, he is. He'll destroy yours, too'. And then we start again: 'You have to leave straightaway. Go somewhere else. Head to the periphery'. And then, in chorus, 'always stay at the periphery'.