GREEK UNORTHODOX

Hello, and welcome to August's edition of The Autolycan which is based on another headline from The Independent - a paper which is proving to be quite a rich source of stories for this blog.  I hope you like it, in fact I hope you like it quite a lot, since there may well be a break in publishing the blog over the next month or two as Master and Mrs Autolycus take a holiday.  If I do manage to produce something I'll publish it, but if not enjoy the rest of your summer (or winter depending on where you are!)   In the unlikely event that you experience withdrawal symptoms you could always delve into The Autolycan's archives!

GREEK UNORTHODOX

PEOPLE WHO SAY 'LIKE' ALL THE TIME MAY BE DEEPER THINKERS.

                                                                                                                    The Independent

It was 424 BC and the post first night gathering at Socrates' house was turning into a pretty sombre affair. Sophocles had entertained high hopes of his new play - Oedipus Rex - but although the cast and crew had performed with passion and distinction, audience numbers had been desultory, largely consisting – Sophocles had noted bitterly – of middle aged and elderly representatives of that unhealthy stratum of Athenian society that took it upon itself to act as guardian of public morals. Many of those who had turned up had been outraged – a good number had left at the interval. There had been loud gasps of matronly disapproval at the notion of Oedipus killing his father and marrying his mother, albeit unwittingly. His gloom deepening, Sophocles knew that tomorrow's reviews would not be favourable; he still believed passionately in the play, but was fast coming to the conclusion that Athens was simply not yet ready for his searingly honest brand of social commentary.

Moodily, Socrates opened the inquest. Even more moodily he closed it again a few minutes later. Plato's instant diatribe on the subject of ethics and morality, far from lightening the mood, had imbued the gathering with a sense of mounting helplessness. Even Aristophanes, who could usually be relied on for a few risqué jokes, a card trick or two and some cruel impressions of leading Athenian dignitaries was unusually subdued.  Socrates realised that it needed both invention and decisiveness on his part if the play was to be saved.

'Right,' he announced briskly, and with considerably more confidence than he felt, 'we'll invent some excuse to delay the second night by a few days – perhaps put it about that there’s some technical difficulty – and in the meantime I will nip off to Delphi and consult the oracle about what is to be done.'

Very soon he was ushered into the oracle's presence with great solemnity and ceremony.

'Before you can consult with me' she began 'you must answer a riddle.'

Socrates looked uncomfortable.

'What is the creature that walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three in the evening?'

Socrates shifted his position awkwardly, feeling like a schoolboy sitting an exam for which he has not only done no revision but also failed to pay much attention to the coursework in the first place. Suddenly, inspiration flashed.

'Man!' he cried. 'Man who crawls on all fours as a baby, walks on two legs in mid life and uses a stick to help him in old age! It's man!'

'No' said the oracle.

'No? But it must be....'

'That is not the correct answer.'

'But....'

'But you are close' she conceded. 'The correct answer, which I shall give you in a moment, will put you on the right track to answer your question.'

'But I haven't asked it yet' objected Socrates.

'Haven't asked it yet! I'm a bleeding oracle, aren't I?' thundered the oracle. 'You don't need to tell me what your poxy question is!'

Socrates hung his head and mumbled his apologies.

'Right' said the oracle, somewhat appeased, 'the correct answer is 'Man lol.'

'Man lol? I don't understand.'

'IMHO' enunciated the oracle testily 'what you need is lots of lolz. Alternatively, you could have had 'Man ' but it doesn't lend itself to the spoken word as well.'

'But...'

'They're acronyms' she explained with exaggerated patience.

'Acronyms?'

'Abbreviated Coded Rendition of Name Yielding Meaning.'

'But...'

'Oh for goodness sake! For an intelligent man you seem to find it very hard to grasp basic stuff. IMHO means in my humble opinion; lol - laugh out loud. It's a young person thing. Your play will flop if you don't appeal to young people. That means familiarity with their grammar and idiom. Lol is a kind of clue that it's OK to laugh, even when – especially when in this case – the answer to the riddle isn't funny. Socrates, you gotta get down wid da kidz!'

'Down wid da kidz?'

'Look, I'm just like totes amazed you're not lapping this stuff up!'

'Like totes amazed?'

'ROFL!'

'ROLF? But he's...'

'No, that's different. ROFL – I'm rolling on the floor laughing at you! Look, take this Urban Dictionary, read it on the way home. Build the vocabulary and expressions into your play and you'll be fine.'

'Thank you, from the bottom of my heart' said Socrates, somewhat pompously.

He felt, rather than saw, the oracle raise an irritated eyebrow.

'...from the bottom of my heart, lol' he added hurriedly.

'No worries' said the oracle.

Socrates proved an able student, and by the time he got back to Athens he had developed a rudimentary mastery of this novel approach. Realising he would need a strong and charismatic lieutenant, he immediately took Plato, his first and best pupil, to one side, recounted the conversation with the oracle and insisted he too learnt this new language.  Plato's eyes shone – his enthusiasm was direct and tangible.

They gathered Sophocles and the team together.

'OK, boyz 'n' gurlz' began Socrates, 'like we got a block, yeah?'

'Tbh, we're in deep and gotta be cre8ive?' added Plato. 'Like these guys ain't rocking up enough and we ain't making enough bread?'

'OMG! Disasterville!' exclaimed Socrates, perhaps overreaching himself slightly. 'But listen up, I like laid it on the oracle big time and she was like just totally awesome! I was like.... WOW!!'

But Socrates was stopped in his tracks at this point by a loud bellow from Sophocles.

'Socrates!' he roared 'I don't understand a bloody word you're saying!'

'Trust me, dis bro's telling it like it is!' yelled Plato. 'This is like wicked stuff, blud, follow?'

Pandemonium. Confusion. Anger.

Summoning all his authority, Socrates restored order and, in his more customary flawless Greek, reported the details of his visit to the oracle.

'So you see,' he concluded 'our salvation lies in appealing to the younger generation.'

There was a long pause, eventually interrupted by Plato.

'Sooooo,' he began as though he'd just thought of the idea 'why not get two or three of our own kids to work with Sophocles – sorry, to LIKE work with Sophocles - on a re-write?'

It took some time for Sophocles to see the sense of this, but eventually he agreed. The outcome was brilliantly simple, simply brilliant and brilliantly successful. Within a couple of days they'd come up with DadSlayer! - subtitled Like, Don't Waste Your Dad! - and managed to persuade Sophocles that having a plague descend on Thebes as a backdrop to the whole play was, like, gross. The kidz don't want no plague, they argued, that's just like disgusting, but what if, say, internet connection like totally goes down? Maybe there's this like cosmic radiation? Nobody can get on FaceBiblio, like there's these delta rays from some like mystery planet? That'd just, like, faze everybody! And Jeez! If Oedipus is the murderer we don't want some blind old guy like just telling him - he'd get trolled, unfollowed, it would be all over Twitter, there'd be like stuff up on You Tube.

Their success was complete when Sophocles approved enthusiastically of their coup de grâce. This came towards the end of the play, and although many modern directors and publishers cling unimaginatively to Sophocles' original dénouement, Oedipus in the new version smacks his forehead and goes 'Duh! What am I like, like?' whereas previously - you may recall - he put his own eyes out.

'And like what about the sequels?' asked one. 'The trial? Like murder and incest? It doesn't like come much bigger. DadSlayer 2.... Mother.....well, we might have to think about the title for that one. You could like sell the rights, get a whole box set out of it!'

They even managed to get out a handbill promising A gr8 new mega-show from the dude who brought you Antigone, complete with endorsements from celebrities.

Crash hot! Like, totes amazeballs! - ARISTOPHANES

Seriously wicked, innit? - PL8O

Audiences flocked; money rolled in; Sophocles basked in unexpected adulation. But Socrates, as was his way, was only too happy to fade into the background and let others take the credit. He was wise enough to know that it wasn't he who had brought about the revival of the play's fortunes. The only true wisdom, he told himself, is in knowing that you know nothing much about anything. He was content. Years later, and by now a serious inconvenience to the authorities, he was charged with corrupting the minds of the youth of Athens. Deep thinker and wise man that he was, he didn't contest the charge, but calmly accepted his fate, smiling enigmatically as he drank the hemlock pressed upon him by an ungrateful state.

ANAGRAM CORNER

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