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[...] The only way Pessoa could conceive of being a poet was by not being, by pretending, by achieving complete insincerity:

The poet is a faker
Who’s so good at his act
He even fakes the pain
Of pain he feels in fact.
And those who read his words
Will feel in what he wrote
N…

[...] Campos was the dynamic, free-spirited heteronym—a bisexual dandy who studied in Glasgow, traveled to the Orient, and lived it up in London, acting out many things Pessoa dreamed of but never dared to do. Or never cared to? Whatever the case, Pessoa had no reason to regret having delegated his…

‘In your different ways.’ The waitresses in this dark place had been obliged to squeeze themselves into wench outfits – bibs, stockings, all that again. Market research had no doubt established that this was the most common male fetish. They also said enjoy your meal and have a nice day and you’re …

‘You’ll notice we’re going into a wide turn at this time. It looks like I’m out of a job too, so . . . Ladies and gentlemen, I have to tell you that this is Airtrak’s last flight. They’ve pulled the plug on the whole operation. We’ll be re-encountering that turbulence on the way back to JFK. Please…

A pretty adult situation, no, wouldn’t you think, with Selina now tightening the belt of her sheer negligée (and gazing down disclaimingly – even she won’t forgive me), and Martina fixed in the frame of the doorway, in a suit of light-grey worsted, black shoes together (and what did she see? Brut…