The Short Fellow – A Revolutionary in the Making.

Today I have been reading John Lee Anderson’s great biography of the Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara and as someone who is fascinated by both history and politics, it has me hooked. However, this isn’t a book review or a history lesson, it’s more a review of my grandiose sense of self, my idiotic ego that has me bizarrely comparing myself to Che Guevara.

You heard me right. Me. A man who is currently sat here in his underwear on a Wednesday afternoon, has been thumbing his way through this book and excitedly saying out loud, “Che was only in his late 20’s when he met Fidel? It’s still not too late. I too can be a leader of men!”

Me. A man who gets nervous when his girlfriend asks him to go to the Post Office to send a package. How am I meant to inspire a nation when I nearly vomit when asking an uninterested middle-aged woman to send something first class?

You see. I’m a political animal. Or I certainly like to see myself as one. I’m THAT guy who after having a couple of beers gets really serious and starts ranting about the inequalities in society. I’m transformed into a working class revolutionary who will die for the cause. But if the revolution came, if the working class finally rose up from their slumber, if a man burst into this room now and handed me a gun, I would shit on the floor. I would literally defecate in my revolutionary trousers.

In an instant I would look for reasons to get out of being on the front line.

“I can provide administration? How about I set up a Facebook page? EVERY GOOD REVOLUTION NEEDS A SOCIAL MEDIA PRESENCE!”

It’s not only Che I compare myself too, but Lennon, Gandhi, Rosa Parks… The list goes on. Being in my 20’s I still have that na├»ve attitude and self important belief that I will one day change the world. I have moments where in the midst of one of my drunken tirades at a social gathering, I honestly believe I am about to spark off a moment that will have major significant historical importance. It never does however, they usually just end with me standing alone in a kitchen being looked at strangely by a friend’s Labrador.

So comrades, I shall leave you now. I need to get dressed and retweet some social injustice on Twitter.