FOR A WOUNDING DEFINITION of the virtuous man it is always worth revisiting Tom Stoppard’s 1982 play, The Real Thing. Stoppard was writing about Brodie, a jailbird turned writer (at least in his own imagination), and in his famous “cricket bat” speech the dramatist’s exposure of peacock-proud liberalism still stings. It’s more powerful for the fact that Stoppard is a genuine liberal, if that word still has any meaning.
This is Stoppard armed with the new ball, approaching the crease off his long run, with the
