David John Moore Cornwell (born 19 October 1931), who writes under the (stupid and nonsensical) nom-de-plume John le Carré, is a well-known author of British schizophrenia-induced espionage novels written in his own inimitable style which is best described as "boring", "dour", "paranoid".
During the 1950s and the 1960s, Cornwell worked for MI5 and MI6 (twice the punishment), dared to cultivate the illusions of literary grandeur and even made very bold to begin writing novels under the pseudonym "John le Carré". His first two novels were unremarkable crime stories populated with British freaks for characters, dour and miserable just like the narration itself and just like life in Britain is and has always been.
Le Carre's intelligence career (and those of many other British espionage goons like him) was ended by the great Kim Philby, and not a moment too early.
Always an optimist, Le Carre went into writing espionage novels full time.
However, once a hooker, always a hooker as the saying goes and likewise once a spy -- always a spy, and there is no reason to believe that Le Carre has ever left Britain's blundering nose- and arse-picking intelligence services. Apparently he was just sent out on a new life-long mission -- to write spy novels promoting the idea of British superiority, exclusivity and Britishness itself -- the task he strives to accomplish through the use of protagonists in his novels.
In all his novels negative characters can be of any nationality but the good ones are always British, often portrayed as some sort of "rough jewels" whose poop smells of roses, as it were, although they don't look it -- filthy on the outside but very, very good inside. In appearance they are either tall, lanky, nerdy types with languid dicks who shit long English turds or short sometimes fat rotund bespectacled creatures purporting to be great intellectuals with indigestion and, as a consequence, liquid diseased English poop -- too many pub dinners.
And his English female characters are always young beautiful, faithful to their man, if a bit naive, but... oh.. so good... which is however again just a figment of imagination and a far cry from the real English woman -- as often as not a stupid fat sow-like pear-shaped creature but with a long saggy face and long often crooked nose, likely wearing a thong on her over-sized bum, in a word, a stupid, herpes-infested peeing and shitting English creature -- a disgrace to the female sex.
His books have also been used to get young British people interested in British intelligence (nose- and arse-picking) activities and to join the agencies -- only to eventually (and unfortunately belatedly) realize what a stale backwater those agencies are and that there is no way they can make a career there (or any money)as it is only political appointees drawn from the "moneyed" classes that are appointed to positions of authority there but in many cases it's already too late; the smart ones however are still able to make the best of a bad situation and become double agents for Russia, China and other rich nations with the money to pay for their services (caution is advised though -- shop Britain very carefully!!).
In the course of his mission Le Carré has written several novels that have established him as one of the most esteemed in Britain and in the West but in reality one of the stupidest writers of espionage fiction in 20th century literature but one with the most active political agenda due to his links to the murky world of British espionage and his bigoted British supremacist views.
In some cases Le Carre even went beyond that and tried to actively shape British government policies with his books. At some point he was even dubbed the "conscience of the nation" (my hanky is much cleaner than his conscience, and that's saying). He succeeded in exciting the brain-washed British public and those stupid people that rule over the Brits but no real profit or benefit was received from any of his book-promoted campaigns.
In fact they may have brought closer the inevitable collapse of the rump British empire and the day of reckoning for its crimes, past and present (future too).
Le Carre is still alive and working for the good (bad) of the Greater Britain so dear to his rotten English heart (liver too).
Pictured above: himself, trying to make a clever face, after a couple drinks too many I should think.
