The World of Alphonse Allais

by Alphonse Allais

  And then, as I say, it happened. He passed a woman he recognised going the other way.

  (If I go into a description of her, it will only hold up the story. Just conjure up a mental image of the kind of woman who appeals to you, and that will be quite good enough.)

  As she passed, he automatically tipped his hat to her, but got no response whatsoever. Funny, he thought. Was it because she hadn’t recognised him? Or simply because she hadn’t noticed his small friendly gesture? Either way, he had definitely got no response at all.

  Which was strange, because he was sure he had met her somewhere before. But where the hell had it been? And when? Well, whoever she was, she was certainly a damned attractive girl.

  He walked on for about twenty yards, then suddenly realised he couldn’t leave it at that. He simply had to turn round, catch her up and take another look. So he did.

  She looked familiar from behind as well.

  Where the hell had he seen her before? And when had it been?

  He followed her along the boulevard till they came to the Avenue de Villiers which she took as far as the Square de Trafalgar. Then she turned right.

  Carefully keeping his distance behind her, the man suddenly thought to himself: How very strange – this is getting quite near where I live. But he still couldn’t place where he had met her, or when.

  The mysterious woman walked along the rue Albert Tartempion until she reached No.21 and went in. This was too much! She was actually going into the building where he lived!

  She got into the empty lift and went up.

  He raced up the stairs after her, four at a time.

  The lift stopped at the fourth floor. His floor.

  She walked along the corridor and stopped at his door. Was she going to ring the bell? No, she wasn’t. Because she calmly took out a key and opened the door.

  A burglar!

  He leapt forward to challenge her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You’re home early.’

  Then he remembered where he had seen her before, and when it had been.

  She was his wife.

  M. E. R.

  or

  THE NEW AMERICAN MOTO-ELEVATED-ROAD

  As I can’t be everywhere at the same time, I was unable to attend any of the main events in the recent French motor-racing season, because I had been kindly invited by a group of American car-makers to go over to their country and be a guest at one of the most interesting races I have ever attended: the ‘Rocky Mountain Cup’. It does not seem to have been reported anywhere in the French press, though I am not sure why. Was it perhaps because the results were not quite so sensational as the organisers had hoped? Forty-three machines entered for the race, and no less than forty-three crossed the starting-line, which is good going; the only disappointing thing was that none of them crossed the finishing-line.

  Fourteen of them managed to collide with the picturesque rocks after which the race is named.

  Eleven safely avoided the rocks and plunged into an assortment of ravines, gorges and waterfalls.

  And the remaining eighteen chose quite the wrong moment to encounter a herd of buffalo moving at high speed in the opposite direction. Not that a head-on meeting between car and animal will necessarily be a disaster for the driver, because a motor car in good condition on a well maintained highway will always beat, say, a large spaniel and indeed convert it instantly into a respectable hearth rug. A herd of bison is a different proposition, though, especially as statisticians tell us that bison never move round in groups of less than 170,000. Eighteen motor cars are no match for 170,000 or more bison, as we found when we visited the scene of the accident the day after it happened. There was, of course, no sign of the buffalo herd by then. Nor of the eighteen motor cars. Anyone who has been privileged to witness the purée into which 170,000 bison (or 680,000 bisons’ hooves) can turn eighteen motor cars has a pretty good idea of the concept of nothingness. Perhaps I understand why the organisers of the race were less than eager to seek world-wide publicity for the American car industry.

  But if you think that they were discouraged, you don’t know the Americans. They were twice as determined after that to find some way of guaranteeing fast, safe motoring. No halfway measures for them, either; they decided that as the earth’s surface was obviously unsafe for driving, they would look elsewhere. The flat open road may be all right for horses, cripples, Europeans and snails, they said, but we Yankees can drive in the air!

  So they immediately decided to build the Moto-Elevated-Road.

  What is this M.E.R., as it is already familiarly known?

  The name gives away the basic secret, of course, but it gives no idea of the fiendish ingenuity which will enable the Americans to criss-cross their country with thousands of light aerial motorways which will, very soon, be teeming with small American cars.

  Now, the first thing that the average Frenchman notices when he arrives in the U.S.A. is the almost incredible quantity of telegraph wires overhead. In this country we are used to seeing only one or two together, or a dozen at most, but over in Uncle Sam’s own country it isn’t unusual to see a hundred or more at a time. When I say telegraph wires, of course, I mean other kinds of wires as well, such as electricity supply wires, telephone wires, overhead cables and so on.

  They are all arranged one above the other, in a vast vertical pattern.

  But a humble car-washer in Chicago recently conceived a brilliant yet simple variation on this idea.

  Why not, he thought, lay them out horizontally instead of vertically, in other words, all side by side and build the necessary additional pylons to support them?

  ‘Very clever,’ sneered his foreman when he heard the idea. ‘And what’s the big idea?’

  ‘I was coming to that. You could then use these parallel wires as the framework for a long platform made of vulcanite. Don’t forget, vulcanite has two great qualities: it is a non-conductor of electricity and it makes a wonderful smooth, hard surface. So you could use the platform as a perfect overhead motorway!’

  I need hardly tell you that when the foreman realised the brilliance of the humble car-washer’s stroke of genius, he begged forgiveness for his rudeness and made him shake hands there and then, before taking him to meet the boss of the company. The boss realised, too, that the car-washer had stumbled on an idea which would make their fortune, and being an American businessman in the traditional mould tearfully clapped him on the shoulder and led him to his eldest daughter, saying:

  ‘I was wrong to stand between you two young things; take her, boy, she’s yours.’

  Which surprised them both, as they had never met before in their lives.

  A FEW INGENIOUS IDEAS

  Humorists may think themselves very funny when they invent things like water-proof curtains for submarines or tiny muzzles to stop snails dribbling on lettuce plants, but they cannot hold a candle to the genuine, serious inventor. Next time you have a moment to spare, go along to the Ministry of Commerce and take a look at the thousands of patents registered by inspired inventors every day; I guarantee you will be wreathed in smiles within five minutes, if not rocking with laughter.

  Here are a few samples of inventors and their inventions, just to whet your appetite.

  (I have copied everything down word for word. They are all genuine, believe me.)

  *

  Bastide, 20 December 1900: A device for retrieving the mustard left inside used mustard jars.

  Tourigny, 14 December 1900: Ventilated shoes.

  Paulsen, 25 January 1900: An electrical indicator to remind one of the arrival of break-time.

  Argyle, 27 September 1898: An improved combination meerschaum pipe and police whistle.

  Malet, 7 October 1898: A device for informing all motor car tourists of their exact position, difficulties ahead, local hazards and interesting attractions nearby.

  De Salabert, 16 November 1898: A luminous hat.

  Couturier, 18 January 1899: A method of converting motor cycle
s into four-wheeled vehicles.

  Shea, 3 January 1899: A device for the use of ladies (?).

  Potthof and Mme Buckel, 12 December 1898: A device for gathering up children’s excrement.

  Bichara Malhame, 9 May 1899: A scented calendar.

  Dupoux, 25 November 1898: Completely new method, guaranteed sure and infallible, of manufacturing or preparing mayonnaise sauce.

  Langrême, 26 November 1899: A power-assisted horse.

  Girdelement, 13 October 1898: An improved pipe designed to give off more smoke.

  Konig, 22 October 1898: Footwear for animals.

  Von Reinolts, 25 February 1900: Apparatus designed to play a variety of practical jokes.

  Wulff, 25 April 1899: Method of teaching animals to play music.

  Leps and Barda, 1 May 1899: A bus without brakes.

  De Saint Jean, 1 April 1899: Combined fishing rod and bicycle pump.

  Etc., etc., etc….

  I could go on for ever, but I won’t.

  SOME MORE INGENIOUS IDEAS

  The value of a standing ovation is not so much the value of the noise made by those standing up to applaud you, as the degree of respect you have for those who have stood up and the amount of time you have for their motives.

  For only a fool would feel proud to be praised for virtues he did not possess.

  ….. These musings, informed by a certain bitterness, are brought on by the reading of all those publications which rushed to reprint the list I gave last week of patents registered with the state.

  As these inventions had a touch of the crackpot about them (despite my perfectly serious treatment of them) nobody felt like admitting that they might be completely authentic. So as one man the said publications showered compliments on me for my wonderful imagination, whereas I was nothing but a pale transcriber of the truth.

  What will they say when they see the new list I have copied out for them without a single jot or comma changed (may the gods bear witness that I am telling the truth!)?

  Here we go, then.

  *

  Viany-Allemand, 23 May 1899 – A parasol to keep off frost.

  Samat-Roubaud and Debrien, 10 July 1899 – A revolving café-restaurant.

  Bitter, 27 June 1900 – The Venus de Milo restored.

  Lazarus, 19 July 1900 – A device to prevent the illegal use of tricycles.

  Buczkowski, 18 July 1900 – A self-locking saucer.

  Nau and Greiner, 8 September 1899 – An automatic device for immobilising and extinguishing cigars, candles, etc…

  Demaria, 18 August 1899 – A multi-coloured walking-stick.

  Friedrich, 5 November 1900 – A bullet-proof haversack.

  Green, 17 October 1899 – Shield for cyclists.

  Letorey, 11 November 1899 – A balloon modified in order to execute internal or external alterations to a building.

  De la Houssaye, 1 December 1899 – Sea-water soap.

  Funck, 8 December 1899 – A combined brush and watering can.

  Wenckheim, 3 May 1900 – Sweat-free spectacles.

  Lindbohm, 28 December 1899 – Electrical fishing-rod.

  Charaviber, 9 January 1900 – Combined salt cellar/cigar-holder.

  Reimer, 19 February 1900 – Transparent automobile globe (???)

  Rey, 21 February 1900 – Boat and oars made from cavalry lances, steel tubes and tent pegs.

  Maubrey, 4 March 1900 – Pictorial cakes.

  Mautner, 7 April 1900 – A device to keep the body upright during long train journeys.

  Leroux, 12 April 1900 – An appliance for reducing over-large mouths and making thin lips bigger.

  Bellamy, 23 April 1900 – Devices for aerial recreation.

  Eisenmeyer, 24 April 1900 – A method of protecting parts of the body against atmospheric pressure.

  Etc., etc., etc….

  *

  One final note.

  In case any of our readers should be seduced by the magnificence of this list into wishing to invest in any of the aforesaid inventions, we shall always be glad to act as agents, for the appropriate bloated fee.

  A THIRD AND FINAL BATCH OF INGENIOUS IDEAS

  Furious protests, bitter-sweet reproaches, dignified remonstrations, prospectuses, tracts, brochures – good God! the avalanche on my elegant rosewood writing desk has been unending.

  And all from inventors who wish to explain to me that their patents (which I recently listed in these pages) in no way deserve the description ‘having a touch of the crackpot about them’ which I invoked.

  On the contrary! There have seldom been such deserving inventions in history as these (they are all unanimous in pointing to their own in particular) and if humanity should pass by on the other side, then the word ‘progress’ is a meaningless bisyllable, it seems.

  Some of the inventors, like M. Ary Bitter (of Marseille), who had devised a reconstruction of the Venus de Milo, are in true despair at the lack of success attending their enterprise.

  Others are concerned merely to correct my misconceptions.

  Such as M. Charaviber, who writes to say:

  ‘In your summary of imaginative patents published in Le Journal you were good enough to mention mine, number 296015, taken out on 9 January 1900. Unfortunately you misread “salière porte-cirage” for “salière porte-cigare”. My invention is not a combined salt-cellar/cigar-holder; it is a combined salt-cellar/wax polish-holder.’

  And why should anyone want anything so far-fetched?

  The answer is simplicity itself.

  With a view to persuading customers to buy the wax polish that he manufactures rather than a rival brand, M. Charaviber has had the astute idea of replacing the usual metal polish container with an elegant glass salt-cellar which can be used (when the wax is finished) on even the most fashionable dining table. After a quick wash, of course.

  But we could spend all day on the information offered by these good men so, fascinating though it is, I shall now with your permission, ladies and gentlemen, proceed to complete this study of contemporary ingenuity with a third and last list of patents. All guaranteed absolutely genuine. (Anyone can check them.)

  *

  Chapoulart, Pouzioux and Bucher, 13 January 1900 – A theatrical entertainment on rails.

  Garnier, 1 February 1901 – Spare metal legs for wooden horses.

  Konig Co Ltd, 26 September 1898 – Apparatus to enable readers to find any passage in any book at great speed.

  Barth, 12 October 1898 – Improved device for the successive pivoting of a certain number of arms on the same axis (?).

  Julie, 16 June 1899 – Apparatus for castrating animals.

  Béguin, 21 June 1900 – Free supply of addresses. (??)

  Martin, 18 July 1900 – Device for preventing coastlines from being eroded by the sea.

  Hoover and Hoover, 22 September 1899 – Contraption for harvesting plums.

  Rubak, 2 October 1899 – A summer fez.

  Mini, 18 October 1900 – Apparatus for reading a book behind glass without having to touch the pages.

  Launier, 16 November 1900 – Mobile articulated copper staircase.

  Morel, 9 October 1900 – Restaurant with mobile tables.

  Franck, 23 October 1899 – Articulated figurine for use either as a tooth-pick or an ear-pick.

  Mlle Thornton, 20 November 1899 – Accessory to be fitted to one’s belt for holding an umbrella over one’s head.

  Etc., etc., etc….

  *

  I hope you agree with me that this material is every bit as thought-provoking as it is entertaining.

  THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO MICROBES

  I went into the humble crémerie where I come for my breakfast every day. I sat down next to a tall fair young man who seemed totally harmless, not to say ineffectual. I politely asked the waiter for my usual two boiled eggs. And then, quite without warning, the young man rose to his feet and fired a revolver at my heart.

  Luckily, either his pistol was of an inferior make or he was using
second-hand ammunition, because instead of burying itself in me his bullet bounced off my side (I have iron sides) and left me with nothing much worse than extensive contusions.

  Still, when I saw that I was actually bleeding I thought it best not to waste time in idle recriminations but to hie me straightaway to the nearest apothecary.

  To whom I must pay public tribute at this point for the selfless way in which he dropped everything to staunch my wound, while at the same time recording my deep distress at his ability to make puns at such a tragic moment. At every available opportunity he said, over and over again:

  ‘I take after Descartes, you know. Je panse, donc j’essuie.’

  My would-be assassin, meanwhile, the tall fair young man who had seemed so harmless not to say ineffectual, had followed me all the way to the chemist’s and was busy helping him with the bandaging and the dressing. So when the operation was over, the killer and I made our way back to the crémerie and tucked into breakfast with the best verve in the world for, as you can imagine, all that hard work had left us ravenous.

  ‘Now,’ I asked the young man, ‘will you not tell me what drove you to this desperate act of violence?’

  ‘Gladly. You know how that idiot chemist claimed just now to take after Descartes? Well, I take after the Swedish student who shot a toreador the other day because he loved animals so much.’

  ‘I don’t quite see…’

  ‘It was because I heard you ordering two boiled eggs. I just couldn’t help myself… but you know what happened next.’

  ‘Yes, agreed, but… I mean, I know that eggs are of animal origin. That doesn’t mean they have any feeling, though.’

  ‘Quite so. It’s not the eggs I feel sorry for. It’s the millions of little microscopic organisms, ultra-microscopic even, which swim around in water so innocently and happily even though we can’t see them. You see, if you suddenly raise the temperature of their native element, it produces a heat which they are quite untrained for and which has dire effects on them. And you can’t boil eggs without boiling water.’