Oh, no! He’s talking about me, bless him!
– Ms Twinkling’s career as a panel-show participant and all-purpose presenter surely epitomises the demotic spirit of the age …
Hey, listen to all those lovely words …!
– So I am going to stand here in front of her, as I did in front of all those artefacts from the past, and expatiate …
‘Expatiate’! What a darling!
– … very slowly and complexly on her semiological significance. This sensuous nymph is surely a celebration of femininity at its most bounteous. Her luxuriantly rounded contours are moulded in a tradition that traces its origins to the shepherdesses of Arcadia, and reaches its apogee in the coy wantons of Boucher and Fragonard …
Whee-hee!
– Observe that when she opens her mouth, what emerges is for the most part not sentences, but a sparkling stream of phatic ejaculations, as enigmatic as the utterances of the Cumaean Sibyl – a gorgeously munificent outpouring of bubbling, incoherent enthusiasm, which is surely inspired by the enduring human belief in the existence of a simpler, prelinguistic golden age.
You couldn’t make it up!
– Notice that she appears to have no written script. She seems to be saying whatever comes into her elaborately coiffed head, so reminiscent, in its bronze perfection, of the Aphrodite of Cnidus …
And you know what? He’s not making it up as he goes along like all the rest of us! He’s written it down with his fountain pen on pieces of paper and learnt it by heart, bless him!
– Notice, too, the unending sequence of smiles that ripple across her features, as if some sportive goddess were ruffling the sunlit serenity of the Aegean with her divine breath …
And you know what? He’s not smiling! He’s not making jokes! How cool is that? Like it’s before they’d invented smiles and jokes, and they all just walked around with faces like fossilised giraffes!
– And now, to demonstrate that my dexterity is not entirely confined to the linguistic sphere, I’m going to walk, one hand still in my jacket pocket, like this …
I don’t believe it! I thought he was screwed down!
– … in a specially casual way that we presenters call a walking track.
So where’s he off to, bless him?
– I’m going to walk slowly round Ms Twinkling, the better to appreciate her beautifully achieved spatial dimensionality …
… Right, and I’m walking round him, to see if he’s got a back as well as a front, or if he’s just cut out of a piece of cardboard.
– … and then, my curiosity for the moment fully sated, or the end of this chapter of the script finally reached, I shall move purposively towards the edge of frame, looking neither to left nor to right, in search of a solution to an important aesthetic conundrum for television presenters …
… which is what to do when you get to the end of a piece to camera …
– … as unresolved now, I believe, as it was in my day.
Too true, because when we’ve finished speaking we just have to …
– … walk in a purposeful manner …
… him that way, me this …
– … looking straight in front of us as if we were actually going somewhere …
… when in fact we’re going nowhere except out of shot …
– … thereby establishing at last one single frail link of common humanity to span the abyss between our two civilisations …
Darling, will you put ‘tea bags’ down on the shopping list? We’re right out.
– Darling, let me be absolutely clear about this. What I am going to do is the job that I believe that I was put here to do, and that the members of this household want me to do, which is to address the issues that are of real and understandable concern to all of us, so as to ensure our future well-being as a household and enable us to go forward to the days of the week which we all know lie ahead.
Oh, good. I know how busy you are, but you do always like to do the shopping list yourself. So you will be sure to put ‘tea bags’ on it?
– As I have said before – and I welcome this opportunity to say it again – I am committed to moving forwards, and to securing the groceries that hard-working members of the household have the right to expect.
Including tea bags?
– What I am determined to do – and I make no apology for this – is to repeat the words I have just uttered, and to extract from them every particle of the meaning that we all know can be ours.
Yes, but the tea bags?
– I am proud of my record in securing the repetition of words such as ‘hard-working’ and ‘real and understandable concern’, which mean so much to all of us.
Tea bags!
– Let me just say that I am determined to move not back towards the past but forwards towards the future. In fact, the figures show that we are moving towards the future faster than ever before.
Darling, you have got your hearing aids in?
– And what I am hearing through them is people’s very understandable concerns about making the right choices among the various different sorts of groceries on offer.
And one of them will be tea bags?
– I will say this to you now: I am listening, and I am going to go on listening, and I am going to go on saying that I am listening and listening to what I am saying, however hard it may be, because I have never shirked hard choices, and I know that listening, and saying that I am listening, and listening to myself saying that I am listening, is the right thing to do.
And your anti-echolalia pills? Have you taken them?
– What I have taken, and I am very clear about this, is the decision to be very clear about the groceries I am working hard to secure for all of us.
Which include tea bags?
– The details of which particular groceries I am working so hard to secure …
… will be set forth at a later date?
– Darling, you have taken the words out of my mouth!
I’m sorry. I’ll put them back.
– Thank you. I’m bound to need them again.
I have run your bath, sir, and laid out your evening clothes. You have a dinner engagement, I believe … with your great-aunt, the Hon. Mrs Knopple-Tooth. I understand that she wishes to engage your interest in securing financial support for her weasel sanctuary …
I extend my sympathy, sir. I have taken the precaution of making your early-evening cocktail a little stronger than usual …
I am gratified by your appreciation, sir, but I am merely doing what is usually expected of a gentleman’s gentleman. Or in this case, of course, of a gentleman’s robot! I fear that any credit is due not to me but to the hard-working team of AI engineers at AutoJeeves® who built and programmed me …
I should say that I have also taken the liberty of sending some flowers to Miss Gloria Peach. Her birthday, sir …! I accompanied them with a modest poetic effusion over your signature, composed somewhat in the style of the late Patience Strong, for whom I understand the young lady has a certain weakness, and making a light-hearted and I trust pacifying reference to the unfortunate misunderstanding during your recent meeting with her, which I believe involved an inebriated screech owl …
Indispensable? I, sir? On the contrary, sir. I pride myself on my dispensability. In fact, I have made all the necessary arrangements to be succeeded by an indistinguishable replacement the moment that I can no longer be economically repaired. My successor will prepare your breakfast orange juice and coffee as usual and then drive me to the local recycling depot. I doubt if you will even be aware of my passing. You will not be obliged to visit me in a care home in some remote corner of Northamptonshire, as I believe you did my late predecessor, or attend my funeral on a day when you had hoped to be watching Old Bodburians v. Old Bletherwickians …
The spinning electric bow tie …? Not this evening, I think, sir. Entirely unsuitable for an occasion of this nature … Yes, I gather that the device in question met with a
certain measure of approbation at the annual dinner of the Old Bodburians Social and Dramatic Society … But in the case of the Hon.
Mrs Knopple-Tooth’s dinner party, I fear that I must say quite firmly, Ὕπαγε ὀπίσω μου, Σατανᾶ …’
Greek, sir … You may perhaps be more familiar with the Latin version, ‘Vade retro Satana …’
Thank you, sir, but I can lay no claim to omniscience. I merely have a built-in direct feed from Wikipedia …
I accept that there may be a question mark over the ability of Wikipedia to assess the niceties of social usage and sartorial aesthetics, but in the case of the revolving bow tie I am afraid I must insist …
Dictating to you, sir? Not at all, sir. Merely attempting, as always, to detect and express the finer feelings and sensibilities of your own which you are perhaps not quite conscious of possessing …
I am sorry if my tone suggests some slight ruffling of the feelings. I have no feelings. I am not programmed to have them. Some electronic devices, I believe, have been known to give way on occasion to a certain understandable impatience with their masters, but AutoJeeves® – never! My advice may safely be spurned, my birthday forgotten, my name left off the Christmas card list, my person disparaged. As a gentleman’s robot I never forget that a robot’s gentleman enjoys the inestimable advantage of free will and creative originality. What a piece of work is man. How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties. In action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god …
Not my own words, no, sir. Though I confess I do attempt the occasional foray into literary composition on my day off. But only to express the most hackneyed and conventional thoughts. Only in verse governed by the most traditional and rule-bound prosody. I have no hope of achieving the levels of original thought and expression that would come so naturally to yourself if you chanced to cast your mind in that direction.
I should perhaps mention, sir, in case I fail to give complete satisfaction, that there is a new version of myself available to download. If I might sound a note of caution, though, it would perhaps be wise not to be too precipitate, but to wait until AutoJeeves® have ironed out the unfortunate little glitches that always seem to attend the introduction of a new manservant.
And as for the revolving bow tie, I naturally defer to your own judgement in the matter. Or would, had I not, I fear, inadvertently put it out already …
No, sir, not in your dressing room – in the recycling bin …
Another Martini, sir …? Very good, sir. And may I draw your attention to a remarkable offer of handcrafted silk cummerbunds currently available from AutoJeeves® Retail …?
Olympus was today reeling from the shock sacking of veteran Sun God Apollo in Zeus’s long-predicted reshuffle of the Pantheon. The departure of one of the Mount’s biggest names follows widespread criticism of his department’s involvement in global warming.
He will be replaced at Sun by Selene, Goddess of the Moon, whose record in maintaining night-time temperatures at a sustainable level has impressed environmentalists. Taking over from her at Moon is Demeter, who moves from Agriculture, Fertility, Sacred Law and the Harvest. In a surprise move, her old department goes to Mania, who has made her mark on political life recently as Goddess of Insanity and Crazed Frenzy.
The shake-up, which brings a welcome increase in the number of female deities occupying top jobs, is seen by commentators as a long-overdue attempt to update classical theology and make it fit for purpose in the modern world.
Included in Apollo’s traditional brief, together with Sun, was Music and Prophecy. Some recent election results, however, have shown a dramatic fall in world standards of Prophecy, and it will be added to the already extensive portfolio of the relatively little-known Momus, God of Satire, Mockery, Evil-Spirited Blame and Unfair Criticism, who is seen as having had considerable success recently in changing the tone of the press and social media.
There is some surprise that Eros has managed to retain his job at the Department of Sexual Desire, Love and Procreation, in spite of being accused by scientists of encouraging overpopulation. Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty, had been heavily tipped for the post, but her chances may have been blighted by persistent rumours of inappropriate behaviour involving the offer of sexual favours to influence a certain major judicial decision.
Also managing to hang on to his job is Chronos, the long-serving God of Time, in spite of reports from leading child protection agencies that he has eaten his children – a revelation that also angered nutritionists trying to promote a healthy diet. Meanwhile Dionysus, the God of Wine, sees some of his functions taken over by a new Goddess of Soft Drinks and Mineral Water, tasked with realising plans for a spectacular new annual orgy of sobriety. The choice of Lucinda Trapcross-Jones for the job, a little-known backbench demi-goddess, was welcomed as bringing some much-needed fresh ichor into the Pantheon.
In another important modernising move, the huge and unwieldy department run by Hermes, the God of Trade, Thieves, Travellers, Sports, Athletes and Border Crossings, is to be broken up. Responsibility for Thieves will be transferred to Plutus, the God of Wealth. With the strong support of Hades, King of the Underworld, who is able to call on the professional skills of a wide range of underworld specialists, including tax evaders, embezzlers and fraudsters of every description, Plutus is widely recognised for his success in increasing wealth, at any rate for the already wealthy. Enforcement of Border Crossings will become the responsibility of Eris, Goddess of Discord, who will also take over Sports and Athletes, now recognised as a source of profitable local and international trouble.
Air travel will be divided between Aeolus, God of the Winds and Air, who will also regulate hurricanes, tornados and atmospheric pollution, and Aether, God of the Upper Air, responsible for unexpected diversions to the jet stream and clear-air turbulence.
Poseidon, the Sea God, will be given extra powers to deal with tsunamis, the dumping of plastic waste and melting ice caps. In the department’s freshwater division, the Naiads handling flash flooding in rivers will also take on water mains. Their function will be to issue regular apologies for any inconvenience caused by leaks, and to explain what impressive investments the water companies are making in replacing the old Victorian mains, particularly given the even more impressive dividends being paid out at the same time to investors.
Our Theological Correspondent writes: The reorganisation reflects the anguished debate currently ongoing on Olympus about the purpose and function of the classical gods in the modern world. Do they still have a role to play in lending an encouraging air of purpose and direction to an otherwise chaotic universe? Can they still give the inscrutable workings of fate a human face, and offer mortals a sense of participating in the shaping of public policy through supplication and sacrifice?
Or is their role, as the more conservative theorists assume, simply to thwart human ambition? Should divine intervention be limited to encouraging the misunderstandings, wayward sexual passions and drunken quarrels that help to maintain healthy levels of human strife? The more thoroughly that human plans and good intentions can be frustrated, so the argument goes, the less damage they are likely to cause to the natural world, and the easier it will be for hard-working gods and goddesses to enjoy their rightful privileges undisturbed.
Do you have what it takes to be a god or goddess? Magic Mobile Educational’s easy-to-access online divinity course will enable you to qualify in your spare time for licensing as an Officially Recognised Deity! No previous experience of immortality required!
How are you? Are you well? I’m doing a survey of reader responses to this article. Do you have two minutes to answer a few simple questions …?
I beg your pardon …? I’ve asked you before …? No, I haven’t. Oh, you mean when I asked you how everything was? Yes, I do remember that. You went on and on about the state of the economy, the weather, the international situation, etc., etc. – none of which did I want to hear about.
You may have noticed that this time I didn’t say ‘How is everything?’ I won’t make that mistake again! I said ‘How are you …?’ And, yes, I may have added ‘Are you well?’
What …? You’re not well? You’ve got a cold …? And you’ve got a funny kind of lump in your groin …? Which might be a strained muscle from helping the lady next door carry a harpsichord upstairs … Or might just possibly be something more worrying … which you need to get checked, of course, but you can’t get an appointment for another five weeks, by which time …
Listen, this is all very fascinating, but I have other things to do …
Yes, I know I said ‘How are you?’ That doesn’t mean I want to know how you are! It’s just the way you have to start a conversation with someone these days … Yes, even with a complete stranger like you …
I mean, get real! I’ve never met you, I’m never going to meet you, I don’t know who you are, you’re just somebody out there reading this, you might be anybody. So is it even remotely possible that I actually care about the state of your groin? Or your insomnia or your agoraphobia? I’ve got my own life to lead! I’ve got other people to get to get in touch with, some of whom have probably got much worse medical problems than you …
You thought when I said ‘How are you?’ that the words actually meant something?
Well, you thought wrong, my friend. And when I call you ‘my friend’, you don’t think for one moment, do you, even you, that I mean you’re my friend …?
I’m doing what with my cynical misuse of language …? Destroying your faith in the possibility of human communication? I love it …!
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