The Intellectual Pineapple.

Every week we buy a pineapple from the Central Market. Every week we take a photograph of our pineapple before we eat it.

This week's pineapple was wearing reading glasses, and looking at the cover of Victor Hugo's Toilers of the Sea. I called it the Intellectual Pineapple.

That was on Friday. Since then, I have found myself reading the final chapters of The Toilers of the Sea through the eyes of the Intellectual Pineapple.

This hasn't been much of a problem as The Intellectual Pineapple and I see pretty much eye to eye on most things.

We worried as Gilliatt faced the dangers of the storm. We trembled as he escaped the clutches of the Giant Squid ( for that is what it was), we shivered as he discovered the skeleton of Captain Clubin in an underwater cave, covered with dead crabs, which had eaten his flesh. We exulted when Gilliatt found the leather belt containing the seventy thousand francs. And we looked forward to his marriage to the beautiful Deruchette on his return home.

But it all went horribly wrong, for Deruchette had meanwhile fallen in love with the handsome new rector, who had just come into a fortune. The Pineapple remained confident. So what, said the Pineapple. She'll marry Gilliatt. She promised.

He couldn't believe it when Gilliatt did the noble thing, helped the young couple marry secretly and sail to England, and then drowned himself.

That's no way to behave, said the Intellectual Pineapple. Dammit, I identified with him!