David Hadley's Blog, page 132

In Peril on the Highways

Of course, these days it is not really necessary to exercise extreme caution when approaching a stranger upon the thoroughfare – except, for obvious reasons, in Bolton – without first checking whether they have anything resembling one of the more recondite musical instruments on, or about, their person.

Back in the days of yore – as Samuel Johnson mentioned to Boswell one Tuesday morning as they made their way – post-haste – out of Kilmarnock – it was not uncommon for a traveller to fall foul of an itinerant bagpiper-wielder on some of the remote highland thoroughfares.

Not only that, it was not uncommon for travellers on the highways of England at around the same time to be waylaid by highwaymen armed with accordions, who – would threaten to inflict the instrument on anyone on the stagecoach who did not immediately had over their valuables with the then familiar, but dreaded, cry of 'Your money or the accordion!'

In the cities too, there were gangs of villains armed with banjos ready to inflict dreadful horrors on anyone who made the mistake of wandering down the wrong street, as well as huge gangs of orphan mandolin players ready to rob and steal from the crowds that thronged the towns, especially on market days.

Such was the fear of crime by musical instrument that deportation to the Colonies, and/or Luton, was introduced for anyone caught in possession of a harmonica with intent to cause grievous bodily harm.

However, it wasn't until the creation of the Bow Street Runners, and other such local constabularies throughout the rest of Britain, that this blight on civilisation was assuaged, at least until the invention of the recording contract a few centuries later.

A Tabloid Exclusive

Hacknslash Paperclip was one of those rare tabloid journalists who became a familiar face and ever-popular by-line to his loyal readership. In his heyday there was – it seemed - not a single celebrity scandal that he was not involved in, in some way. The familiar Paperclip by-line, it seemed, was almost a part of every celebrity malfeasance expose as the obligatory awkward malefactor and family posed reconciliation and printed abject apology for that moment of weakness that would have continued for several more years if not for the intrepid journalistic skills of the great Hacknslash Paperclip.

Paperclip had no interest in the philosophy or theory of journalism and treated the academicisation of his trade as little more than a poor joke. By way of example: Not once, he once said in an interview, had he ever stopped to wonder why, in his heyday, his huge readership (massive even by tabloid standards) should be even in the slightest bit be interested in the shenanigans of the rich and famous, or even have any interest the rich or famous as a species. He just knew that every week his audience all wanted to read – or at least look at the pictures – of someone in the public eye falling from grace, the greater the fall or more spectacular the tumble the better.

Once asked how he managed to get so many exclusives, Paperclip said that he simply assumed that no-one could resist temptation (as his own seven marriages seemed to avow) and that everyone in the public eye, no matter how clean cut, straight-laced or simple and straightforward their public image, would one day succumb to temptation and on that day, he Hacknslash Paperclip would be the one lurking behind the rosebushes, or hidden in the wardrobe, to catch that fall from grace for the exclusive smug schadenfreude of his readers.

The Overwhelming Alien Horde

It came out of the sky... no, hang on. Actually, the Postman delivered it. But, most of us were at least reasonably sure that, if it had not been for the rather reasonable postal charges, then it would indeed have come out of the sky.



Of course, in the past, alien invasions have not quite been this straightforward, often becoming quite fraught as the overwhelming alien horde easily overcame all the massed armies that the Earth could put up against them.



However, since the recent economic downturn has resulted in a large decrease in both the Space Exploration and the Armed Services budgets of most Earth nations, this latest alien invasion was contracted out to the postal services of the Earth's leading nations, rather than going through all that fuss with the lasers and explosions. Not only that, as the aliens are interested in taking over the Earth as a going concern, in order to use it as a sort of planetary wildlife and amusement park. A place where alien species from every galaxy can come to gawp at the wonderfully primitive and authentically-backward human race as it attempts to understand even the most basic concepts of science and technology. Consequently, the alien invaders were rather keen not to engage in the usual wanton destruction of the Earth’s capital cities.



Although, in order to assuage the initial hostility of the world's populace, they have promised to execute – in several inventive and very painful ways – the majority of the Earth's leaders and politicians – so, at least, we have that to look forward to as we welcome our new alien overlords.

Into the Garden

There she was.... No, hang on, it was over there, next to that rather fetching example of a traditional garden shed. Of course, she was fully-armed with all the necessary gear to venture forth into what had - once, in a fit of optimism – been called the garden, but was now suspected to contain several soldiers who were unaware that the war was long over, and rumoured to also contain some creatures that had escaped evolutionary pressures and were not extinct, and - possibly - at least half a dozen tennis balls from next door.

Still, she was prepared to sally forth into the unknown from her base camp just outside the aforementioned shed, which had – over the years – become something of a shrine to the harsh gods of the garden. A place where certain gardening tools were offered up in sacrifice by placing them in the shed, then forgetting about them, possibly in the hope that the garden had evolved itself some breed of elves who delight in horticultural maintenance and who would creep into the shed, avail themselves of the sacrificial tools and do – at least – a spot of pruning and weeding.

However, so far, at least, it looked as though no such breed of creatures yet existed in the dark heart of what was once a lawn.

So, steeling herself and clutching the shears in her gloved hands, she glanced at me, then set off into the garden.

That was three weeks ago, and I still haven't – yet – heard anything from her. If I haven't heard anything in the next couple of weeks I've decided to act and see about getting myself a new wife, or – if the worst comes to the worst – moving house.

Roadside Repairs

It began – of course – in those dark dread years before we had even heard of the concept of multi-channel TV and the Test Card ruled our lives. Back in those days, of course, there were many ways for a young lady and her gentleman friend to get involved with each other, not all of which involved a game of naked Twister and a bottle of baby oil. Although, in the name of honesty, it must be admitted that some of those non-baby oil and Twister events did involve the use of either the Morris Marina or the Austin Allegro, so it was not – as nostalgia would attest – that joyous a time, especially considering the propensity of the Allegro’s wheel bearings to give out if – unreasonably, apparently, in the eyes of its makers – you expected the Allegro to travel further than its own length in distance.

Still, the delicate nature of the Allegro's wheel bearings did mean that many a game of naked baby-oil Twister was played under the moonlight at the side of the road whilst waiting for the breakdown truck to appear, which was why motoring organisations of the time all suggested that a Twister mat and a bottle of baby oil should form a part of every driver's emergency tool kit.

Of course, these days when any young driver examines your emergency tool kit they are – with the concomitant relative reliability of today's cars – always somewhat aghast to discover the Twister mat and baby oil. However, once apprised of the value of such precautions they will often see the wisdom of equipping themselves adequately should the same eventuality befall them at some point in the near future, thus are the great cultural traditions of this country maintained.

In the Name of Charity

Still, anyway, as they often pointed out at the time, it is not that often you can – hand on heart – say you were looking forward to any event involving an accordion, at least not in public anyway. Despite the obvious concern about the nature of the event and worries about just how safe it was for a naked young lady to operate such a device so close to her sensitive regions, there was quite a sizeable crowd gathered just outside the supermarket to witness the event, along with several camera crews from all the major TV networks, and Channel 5 (which, apparently, still exists).

Of course, these days more or less everyone has a mobile phone able to take pictures and/or videos, so the event itself was not going to go unnoticed, especially as it was – as such things are these days – all done in the name of charity, and the beneficiaries of the money raised were not just the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidental Tweaks to the Unprotected Nipple during a Musical Performance (RSPATUNMP), which is – of course – one of the most popular charities in the country, especially after those harrowing scenes of what happened when the All-Nude Orchestra of Brighton attempted to record a version of Ravel's Bolero without the use of safety cymbals.

Still, despite the accordion most of the people who witnessed the event – now, of course recorded for posterity and available on both the charity's home page and YouTube – regarded it as one of the cultural highlights of last year. Not only that it raised a record amount for the charity and there is talk of doing a mass naked accordion concert sometime in the near future, which is something we can all look forward to... at least to some extent.

Torn Shadows

Torn Shadows

These sore half-closed eyes
wasting their precious vision
on views of faded hopes
across a destroyed landscape.

Where empty factories fall down
into oil-soaked rusty mud
while sharp-toothed scavengers
create a bone-thin living haunting
these torn metal shadows.

Physics News – Particle Discovered

It was not quite as intended, even though the container was put back on the right shelf in the right place at the right time. However, such is the nature of time and space that the right time and right place is not – on occasion – where you thought it was.

Of course, scientist are only now coming to understand that what they thought they knew is not only not quite correct, it is – in fact – wrong.

Ever since the surprise discovery of the mystery particle by the large Hadron Collider last week, research scientists have worked around the clock to make sense of the discovery. Until now, the scientific community has not really paid all that much attention to what for the rest of us are some of the great mysteries of the universe. Mysteries such as: where do all the missing socks go? What happened to that pen I put down a minute ago? Why the hell is it so easy to forget just why you are standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a spoon?

Now with the discovery of the Buggeration particle, scientists believe they may just be on the verge of understanding all this strange phenomena. Some scientists think they soon can answer the questions that have baffled humankind ever since the first caveman put down his pointed stick and could remember where he'd put it.

Perhaps even, one day, scientists will discover exactly why there is always a tin of strange stuff at the back of the cupboard no-one can ever remember buying? Or, why, something has a best-before date of several years ago, and no matter how many of them you throw away there is always another one in the cupboard you discover while looking for something else that you never find.

It Just Happened

It was all luck, randomness, happenstance, chance. I knew I was not there because of anything intrinsic to me. I had not survived while all those others had died because of any reason. I was not a better person than any of those who died. I was not holy, I was not chosen by gods or by fate. It happened because that was the way it happened.

The women sitting in the seat next to me, she died. The people sitting in the seats behind me – they all died. Those sitting in front of me and across the aisle from me, they all died too. I just happened to be bending over, trying to extricate my book from my travelling bag when the train carriage came off the line. That’s all it was, just luck. The force of the accident kept me down there, below the part of the carriage sheered off by the collision with the tunnel wall.

I didn’t know I was only one of three survivors from our carriage, not until a long time afterwards. One of my fellow survivors put it down to some miracle, some act of her god. I wanted to point out to her, there would have been others on that train, just as, if not more, devout than her, probably many far more worth saving by any god that would intervene to save her.

She was not the nice person she thought she was. I know because I heard her complaining and bad-mouthing the train staff and fellow passengers when we were in the buffet car queue less than an hour before the crash. The queue moved far too slowly for her and her self-importance. I can’t imagine any god wanting to save her, even a devil would find it hard to like her… but survive she did and so did I… and no god chose either of us.

A Major Constitutional Crisis Averted

Anyway, as was said at the time, it is still not clear, which – if any – of the politicians gathered there was telling the truth. However, since video records of the occasion have been examined by experts it has since been discovered that over 95% of the politicians gathered there did – at one time or another – open their mouths. Consequently, as has been proved by countless pieces of prior academic research in the field, it is now firmly established that when politicians have their mouths open they are lying. It has also been, more or less, established that when their mouths are shut they are thinking about what they are going to lie about next.

Of course, there was the recent scandal when the member of parliament for Lower Backhander was forced to resign from the Houses of Parliament when it was discovered that he had accidentally told the truth to an undercover reporter posing as one of his constituents. Obviously, should he have been allowed to continue representing his constituency under such circumstances a major constitutional crisis could have occurred.

Consequently, several influential backbench MPs have recently tabled a motion asking for MPS expense allowances to be increased so each MP can afford to employ more nubile young research assistants. They claim this will ensure the MP is adequately briefed in future – in both senses of the word - before making any public utterances that – unbeknownst to the MP – later turn out to contain any element of truth. Without such safeguards, the MPs claim, and not without some justification, the whole process of democracy in this country could – if physically possible – sink even lower in the public's esteem.