By Rob Cameron
There is an old story about Lenin, set in the gilded splendour of a café somewhere in Central Europe, sometime in the early 20th Century. A pair of distinguished old gentlemen are discussing affairs of state over steaming cups of coffee and slices of cake. “There’s talk of revolution,” says one, moustache quivering. “Any day now, they say.” "Revolution!" scoffs the second, cocking his thumb at the next table, where a scrawny young man with a goatee beard and flat cap is scribbling furiously in a notebook. "And who's going to lead it - him???...[continued]
