Thursday, 2 June 2016

A CLEAN SWEEP

Hello again, and welcome to June's edition of The Autolycan.  After last month's revelations about Macbeth and Leif Erikson, something more homely this time, and an alarming story from the Guardian about the consequences of an untidy house.  Beware, it could happen to you.  Hope you like it, and do please share if you do.

I'm off to give this whole place a deep clean.


A CLEAN SWEEP

A man has been sent to jail after failing to keep his home tidy

                                                                                                                 The Guardian


If only I'd known, when the kids were young, that it was a criminal offence. If only I'd been able to crook a beckoning forefinger, summon them to the paternal presence, and demand that bedrooms be returned at the very least to a condition where it was possible to detect where walls stopped and floors began without having to bring in ground penetrating radar. If only I'd had sanctions available when I came home - during the teenage years - to find an entire network of PCs, laptops, random hard drives, keyboards and all manner of mysterious electronic gubbins all linked together and ensnaring the whole house in a treacherous web of tripwires and booby traps. If only I could have cited both the precise law that was being broken and how order was to be restored; failing which I could have threatened to dial up their most feared police hotline – the one which scrambles the alpha males of the Now Look Here, There's Bloody Cables Trailing Everywhere, One Of Us'll Break Our Bloody Necks Squad.

Suppose I'd had the option, failing obedience to these - my most reasonable of parental demands - of summoning the Old Bill and watching as they screamed up in a tumult of klaxons and flashing blues. I could - couldn't I? - have basked in that smug self righteousness which would have come as trained police negotiators eventually coaxed them out of the house, banged on the bracelets and carted them off for an eventual appointment with Lord Widgery or some similarly enlightened dispenser of justice.

But of course I never did any of these things. I like to think that fatherly love trumped everything. Perhaps it did, but was it also that a call to the boys in blue would have resulted in a return to an unnaturally silent and accusing house, which I would then have had to tidy myself for fear of being next on Regan and Carter's hitlist? There's no justice.

But banged up for being untidy? Which of us is safe? Who's next for the menacing knock on the 3am door? 'Master Autolycus, you are charged that contrary to pretty much every section of the Ragamuffins, Draggletails and Tatterdemalions Act (1842) you did wilfully and with malice aforethought.....'

And in any case, weren't some of the giants of the age famously untidy? Wasn't it Einstein himself - whose desk was a glorious, chaotic jumble of clutter – who posed the question 'If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?' I'm glad the kids never learnt that one. But suppose the untamed wilderness of his office had proved too much for his charlady who had shopped him to the elite This Place Looks Like A Bomb's Hit It Force. One look at the state of his desk and they'd have smelt an easy result - 'real bonus for the clean-up rate here, lads' - no point him arguing that he was on the very brink of solving the most fundamental secrets of the universe and would be able to give them a precise and definitive value for E just as soon as he'd worked out what MC2 was, only it was a bit tricky doing it by long multiplication, it took a lot of paper and that was probably why the old bat had turned mutinous in the first place. No, he'd have fretted away his time in the cooler, and we'd have had to wait for some other prodigy (Brian May? Brian Cox? Why are they all called Brian and play in rock bands?) to come up with relativity and the Big Bang.

Mind, there might have been certain advantages – the GPS system in your car owes more than a little to Einstein, as do the ones in HGVs which strand them down country lanes from time to time, or – occasionally – lure them onto beaches. Mrs Autolycus and I were in Swansea once when ours waved a bright yellow flag across its screen and announced sullenly that it was lost. It had, it said, no bloody idea where it was and we'd have to sort it out ourselves. Either it was confused by the Welsh road signs – and why wouldn't it be? - or Swansea has yet to be recognised as part of the globe by the good folk at Tom Tom. We'll just have to hope that all will be well when they introduce Dai Dai. Or perhaps Blod Blod.

What's more, if Albert's head hadn't been spinning with ideas about warping space-time thereby paving the way for the warp drive - 'No, no, straight up, it's dead simple; look, you just kind of twist them together like, and then you can travel through time, down wormholes, all that; look, it's not difficult, it's not bloody rocket science!' - well, in that event Captain Kirk and Mr Scott would probably have been stuck with a noisy old two-stroke combustion engine, and it would have taken them all seven series and thirteen films to coax the Starship Enterprise the first few miles out of its spaceport. At least we wouldn't have had Scotty looking anguished and announcing that he 'canna change the laws of physics' – which is arguably what Einstein did do. Like any mechanic Scotty would have had to perfect the art of shaking his head and sucking his teeth simultaneously, whilst muttering 'Dear, oh dear, oh dear. Which clown d'you get to do this then? Course, it'll all have to come out. Crankshaft's completely buggered. Probably looking at about a grand for a new one, son. Not much demand for starship crankshafts, see, bangs the price up no end. Then there's the VAT......'

Lagging a little behind Albert in his grasp of relativistic astrophysics and cosmology, but with some $50 billion squirreled away in his piggy bank way out in front when it comes to personal wealth, sits Mark Zuckerberg. Zuckerberg's desk is every bit as cluttered as Einstein's was, possibly with less justification in his case since he's got all that technology which is supposed to help. One of the very few things which Mark and I have in common is that we've both found out that it doesn't.

But just imagine a world deprived of Facebook after its founder had been hauled off by law enforcement to kick his heels in some miserable State Penitentiary, and all because his house was a bit of a mess. Not only does it bear thinking about; it sort of grows on you, doesn't it? Without Facebook, you'd have to go somewhere else for endless pictures of someone else's tedious meals and heartwarming videos of cute kittens (not all that difficult, admittedly.)

And if we might not have been spared the selfie stick altogether by Zuckerberg's incarceration, there must surely be fewer of them in a Facebook-less world, to the dismay of those stick manufacturing moguls who control what is now a multi-million dollar industry worldwide, but to the delight of those of us who would prefer to choose for ourselves the time and place at which we are to be struck in the face - mostly by someone filming a 360° panoramic selfie - always assuming we have to be struck in the face at all. Personally, I wouldn't lock Zuckerberg up on the grounds of his incorrigible untidiness, but because Facebook encourages the production of of a device – the selfie stick - which, according to the Daily Telegraph, is now responsible for more deaths a year than shark attacks. I found this hard to believe, so checked it out. I found a sad procession of people who'd met their end taking ill-advised selfies on a train track with a train advancing from behind – with unhappily predictable consequences. (Even more depressing though were those confident few who posed for a grinning selfie while pointing a gun to their own heads, and – yes, you've guessed it – contrived to press the wrong thing. Really.)

Einstein, Zuckerberg. And don't even get me started on the equally slovenly Mark Twain and where we'd be without all those quotes beloved of motivational speakers and management gurus since they make for an easy presentation which doesn't need much preparation. Of course, I never went in for that sort of thing myself, on the grounds that it's better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. (Oh, was that Twain? Really?)

But given that slovens, like other groups in prison, are quite likely to come out worse than they went in – with all that this implies for national squalor – perhaps we've got this wrong and need to think again. Perhaps it's not so much the super-slobbish we need to worry about as the obsessively clean and tidy. With a bit of imagination I'm sure we could come up with a range of punishable offences that would see them confined to the slammer in no time. Infringing the Changing Bedsheets When You Did It Last Month (Unless Perhaps It Was The Month Before) Act. Failure to abide by the Well, It Looks Clean Enough To Me Regulations. Tidying up frantically before relatives come to stay, contrary to the provisions of the Tidying Up Frantically Before Relatives Come To Stay (Prohibition) Order. What's more, supply them with mop and bucket, broom and duster and they'll have the prisons spruced up in a jiffy.


It makes a lot more sense, and it's a sobering experience to look back and realise that young as they were the kids got it right and I got it wrong. They're not daft now and they weren't then. No doubt they saw creativity, exploration, adventure where I saw mess and muddle. Intuitively, they saw the chance to stretch themselves without – like the chap in the headline – themselves doing a stretch. I guess I owe them an apology. Maybe it's time to wipe the slate clean.

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ANAGRAM CORNER

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