I came across him at a meeting recently.  He had put on lots of weight, and lost most of his hair and revolutionary fervour.

But in the seventies he was beautiful, in a saturnine type of way (do I mean satanic?), a leading light in the Troskyist Workers Party, an intellectual, casually promiscuous.  Several women claimed that they became militant feminists as a result of their brief ecounters with him.

For him, sex was apparently brief and formulaic.  After he finished, he rolled off from on top and continued the conversation he had left off to satisfy his sexual urges.  An exegis on Stalin's betrayal of Lenin, bougeios revisionism, or capitalism's declining rate of profit.  Usually he did this by lighting a cigarette and beginning "Seriously, though...."