BOTH, Mr WikiLeaks
Whatever side of the WikiLeaks fence you nail your colours to, do you agree that there is something of the night about Julian Assange?
Hero or villain? Activist or terrorist? Opinion remains mixed, but one big black mark against the WikiLeaks founder is that he certainly likes the limelight more than any self-respecting whistleblower should.
As he slopes around the world from interview to press conference, vanity drips from him like grease from a fatted calf roasting on the great spit of hubris.
Why is this? Once a pimply internet geek, Australian-born Assange has been transformed into something of a sex god by the need for camouflage and disguise.
Lucky for him that his make-overs have tended towards the glam; a vagabond’s tight leather jacket, hair turned a fetching shade of platinum ash (by worry, he says), the kind of flashy sunglasses that only the famous favour.
And to a certain type of wide-eyed, Left-wing female idealist he has become a kind of rock star.
No, Assange is more than that. He is Bono, Bob Geldof, the man in The Bourne Identity and Neo from The Matrix all rolled into one smokin’ hot, blond package. Woo hoo. He is a counter-cultural chick magnet, a crusading divinity, the Robin Hood of cyberspace.
No wonder the two women in Sweden were keen on him. Keen? Did someone say keen? According to details emerging from their meetings, they didn’t so much throw themselves at him as hurl themselves from a very great height.
And Assange appears to have been a very willing trampoline, ready to break their fall any way he could. Perhaps even too ready, if the allegations are true.
He is certainly guilty of taking sexual advantage of his celebrity, but that is hardly a crime. If it was, our jails would be crammed with boy bands, most footballers in the Premier League, assorted Lib Dem MPs and Joan Collins.
No comments:
Post a Comment