The True Observer

Sweezus was unhappy. He didn't really have a plan to prove that he was tricky enough to be selected for Team Philosophe.

It's not fair, he thought. Farky can't even ride. What can I do to impress The VeloDrone?

Sweezus liked to think he was a methodical thinker. He made a list.

ONE: WRITE A KILLER ARTICLE FOR VELOSOPHY DEMONSTRATING SLIPPERY THINKING

TWO: IMPRESS THE VELODRONE BY RIDING FASTER THAN THE REST OF THE TEAM

THREE: PRETEND I HAVE CONTACTS IN THE TOUR DE FRANCE

Right! His first priority would be the killer article. He sighed. More writing. He sat down at his computer and began:

Concerning man, other animals and bicycles ( a working title )

I used to think that I knew right from wrong. That was until I met a dog called Farquhar. ( Maybe I should give him another name? This might not work in my favour. Oh stuff it.) One day I went to the Zoo with Farquhar.

I spent my time looking at the enclosed animals and trying to imagine what it would be like to be them. I thought it was the proper thing to do. Farquhar simply reacted naturally to what he saw. He was shocked by the skeleton of a former zoo favourite and terrified by the bats.

Imagine our different reactions had we seen a bicycle locked inside a cage. I would have tried to construct a narrative for the bicycle. That it was a monkey's toy, it had been abandoned, it used to belong to the elephant keeper, or something else to that effect.

Farquhar the true observer would have merely said, Meh! A bicycle.

Sheesh! said Sweezus, to himself. That's a bit too slippery. I've got myself into a right hole. Maybe I should go straight to Plan Two.

He stood up, and went outside to inflate the tyres on his road bike.

Sweezus and Farky

Just then Jesus popped his head around the door.

Hello everyone, said Jesus. Does anyone want to help me with an assignment?

What? A creative writing assignment? asked The VeloDrone. No thanks.

I'm really busy today, said Belle et Bonne.

Hello, I don't believe we've met, said Le Bon David.

It's Jesus, said Belle et Bonne. Jesus, meet Uncle David.

Hello, said Jesus. I've heard all about you.

And I've heard all about you, said Le Bon David. You're doing a creative writing course, and you're making a name for yourself on Twitter as Sweezus.

Jesus looked embarrassed.

No, no, said Le Bon David, don't be embarrassed. We all have to start somewhere.
What is your assignment, Sweezus?

I have to go to the Zoo, said Jesus, and write a story about the animals.

Woo hoo! said Farquhar, pricking up his ears. Animals! I'll go with you. I'll help you write your assignment. It'll be good practice for our collaboration.

Hum, said The VeloDrone. Our contributors don't usually need to practice.

Well, Sweezus does, said Farquhar. He is neither a philosopher, nor a writer.

Alright, said Sweezus. No need to rub it in. Coming Farky?

Yes! said Farky. Sweezus and Farky on assignment at the Zoo. See you later, everyone!

The Simplest Scenario

By taste, said Farquhar MacTaggart, chewing on a Meaty-Bite, I mean 'yum yum this tastes good', or 'yuk that tastes bad', or in the case of things which are rotten, 'yum yum, this tastes really amazing'.

I see, said Le Bon David. By taste, I mean the sorts of things one takes pleasure in for their own sake. Such as reading a wonderful and moving poem.

I am not averse to a good poem, said Farquhar, contemplatively. Farquhar! Farquhar! that's one of my favourites, and Here boy! Here boy! is another.

How do they go? asked Belle et Bonne.

That's them, there isn't any more, said Farquhar.

In what sense may they be considered poems? asked The VeloDrone, who had been listening with interest.

They rhyme, said Farquhar.

Poems should do more than that, observed Le Bon David. They ought to elicit some sort of emotional response.

They do, said Farquhar. When someone calls Farquhar! Farquhar! I leap and jump for joy, and then I run towards the person who recited the poem.

No you don't, said Belle et Bonne. I saw you that time on the beach. You ran away from your family.

I was only giving you the simplest scenario, said Farquhar.

Farquar!

The cycling holiday was nearly at an end. Marie, Belle et Bonne and Jesus retraced their route along the coast road. It was such a beautiful afternoon that they decided to stop riding for a while and take a walk on the beach.

Marie and Belle et Bonne walked ahead, while Jesus lagged behind. He was trying to think of what to write. It was true that he had begun to keep a diary last Easter, but he hadn't kept it up. In fact he'd only written in it twice. He remembered writing something about hoping someone would not be eaten by a shark.

Who was it?, he wondered.

Suddenly he heard a woman's voice calling urgently.

Farquar! Farquar! Farky!

A large brown dog bounded past.

What! thought Jesus. Surely no one would call their dog Farquar!

As he continued walking, the sounds of children's voices reached his ears.

Far-kar! Far-kar! shouted the children.

Unbelievable, said Jesus to himself. As if it isn't bad enough to call your dog Farquar in any case, to call your dog Farquar when you have young children unable to pronounce his name except as Far-kar has to be the height of irresponsibility.

He sped up to tell Marie, and Belle et Bonne.

Can you believe that dog back there's called Farquar? he asked them.

Oh, what a lovely name, said Belle et Bonne.