What we need, said Le Bon David slowly, is a third party to write to him asking if he wants to make any revisions.
Of course! A third party! cried The VeloDrone. Then he won't twig that we don't get it. He'll think it's the third party. And I know exactly who we can ask.
Who? asked Le Bon David. We're the only two people here.
Our new personal assistant, replied The VeloDrone. My adopted daughter Belle et Bonne is back in town. I'll ask her to do it for us.
Belle et Bonne? Le Bon David looked bemused. Why's she called that?
It's just a pet name that she has, because she's beautiful and good.
I didn't even know you had an adopted daughter, continued Le Bon David, wonderingly. You never mentioned her before.
A long story, David. Don't worry, it's all perfectly above board. But never mind that now. I'll just give her a quick call.
Belle at Bonne answered at once.
Who is it?
Me. Your dear papa! Belle et Bonne, can you come to the office immediately. David and I need your assistance with an urgent task. We want you to act as a third party and write a letter to Albert Einstein, on our behalf. Will you do it?
But of course, dear Papa. I'll come right away, even though I am busy writing job applications.
Thank you my dear, you are as good as you are beautiful.
I know, Papa. See you in a few minutes!
A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Le Bon David was there before The VeloDrone had time to get out of his chair.
My dear! You must be Belle et Bonne! Let me introduce myself. I am your papa's good friend and fellow editor of Velosophy, Le Bon David.
Pleased to meet you, Le Bon David. May I call you David? We seem to have a name in common.
Ah yes! The French! said Le Bon David. They are very quick to recognise a person's better qualities, I find.
They are also masters of irony, snapped The VeloDrone. Though not in your case my dear, he added hastily, to Belle et Bonne.
Hello Papa! Give me a kiss! And another! Now what can I do for you two gentlemen today?
Showing posts with label irony. Show all posts
Showing posts with label irony. Show all posts
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Acknowledgement
Did you mean, asked Pliny the Elder, that the Kuarna people would have laughed to know they were being acknowledged, or that they would have laughed to know that the Vice Chancellor sometimes forgot?
I left it deliberately ambiguous, I answered, because I think they would have laughed at both those things.
But neither of those things are funny, said Pliny.
Not to you or me, I said, but put yourself in the place of the Kuarna people.
Who are they? asked Pliny.
They are the traditional owners of the Adelaide plains, I told him.
And do any of them come along to Research Tuesdays? he asked.
Not that I have noticed, I admitted.
I see, said Pliny. So you have no way of knowing whether they would laugh.
If they were there, I said, impatiently, they would have no need to laugh. It's ironic because there are none of them there to hear themselves being acknowledged.
And when the Vice Chancellor sometimes forgets? continued Pliny.
It's even more ironic. That would really make them laugh.
But they are not there, said Pliny, exasperated.
As you are determined to be obtuse, Pliny, let me put it to you another way. Imagine someone were to tell the Kuarna people that this acknowledgement sometimes does and sometimes does not occur on Research Tuesdays. Might they not laugh and shake their heads and say to one another, That'd be right!
They might , said Pliny stiffly, but I freely admit I do not know any Kuarna people. Do you?
No, I don't.
Ironically, said Pliny.
I left it deliberately ambiguous, I answered, because I think they would have laughed at both those things.
But neither of those things are funny, said Pliny.
Not to you or me, I said, but put yourself in the place of the Kuarna people.
Who are they? asked Pliny.
They are the traditional owners of the Adelaide plains, I told him.
And do any of them come along to Research Tuesdays? he asked.
Not that I have noticed, I admitted.
I see, said Pliny. So you have no way of knowing whether they would laugh.
If they were there, I said, impatiently, they would have no need to laugh. It's ironic because there are none of them there to hear themselves being acknowledged.
And when the Vice Chancellor sometimes forgets? continued Pliny.
It's even more ironic. That would really make them laugh.
But they are not there, said Pliny, exasperated.
As you are determined to be obtuse, Pliny, let me put it to you another way. Imagine someone were to tell the Kuarna people that this acknowledgement sometimes does and sometimes does not occur on Research Tuesdays. Might they not laugh and shake their heads and say to one another, That'd be right!
They might , said Pliny stiffly, but I freely admit I do not know any Kuarna people. Do you?
No, I don't.
Ironically, said Pliny.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Pure Narrative
Un..bee...leivable! whistled the VeloDrone. They loved Freud's story about his granddaughter's bicycle. Just look at all these comments!
Le Bon David shook his head. I don't understand it, he said. I thought we had a better class of readers than that. It was nothing but pure narrative with no philosophical content at all.
Steady on, said the VeloDrone, it was your idea to tell them that anything could be considered philosophy as long as it had a bike in it.
Oh please! snapped Le Bon David. Don't tell me you don't understand irony either.
Yes, yes, of course I do, David, I'm just saying we shouldn't be surprised. Now look at this comment here. It's from a chap called Gaius Plinius Secundus. He says it's a very moving story, full of wisdom and nobility. He says he's going to recommend our magazine to all his friends.
Did you say Gaius Plinius Secundus, VeloDrone?
Yes.
The famous Pliny the Elder?
Why yes, I suppose so, David.
Here's a thought. What say we ask him to contribute an article? Now that would be something worth reading, I'll bet you a farthing.
Hee Hee! A penny farthing ! But yes it's time we took back control of our magazine. Submitting to blackmail is no way to guarantee quality.
It certainly isn't. One only has to remember the fake Stephen Hawking debacle. Alright. I'll get on to Pliny tonight.
Le Bon David shook his head. I don't understand it, he said. I thought we had a better class of readers than that. It was nothing but pure narrative with no philosophical content at all.
Steady on, said the VeloDrone, it was your idea to tell them that anything could be considered philosophy as long as it had a bike in it.
Oh please! snapped Le Bon David. Don't tell me you don't understand irony either.
Yes, yes, of course I do, David, I'm just saying we shouldn't be surprised. Now look at this comment here. It's from a chap called Gaius Plinius Secundus. He says it's a very moving story, full of wisdom and nobility. He says he's going to recommend our magazine to all his friends.
Did you say Gaius Plinius Secundus, VeloDrone?
Yes.
The famous Pliny the Elder?
Why yes, I suppose so, David.
Here's a thought. What say we ask him to contribute an article? Now that would be something worth reading, I'll bet you a farthing.
Hee Hee! A penny farthing ! But yes it's time we took back control of our magazine. Submitting to blackmail is no way to guarantee quality.
It certainly isn't. One only has to remember the fake Stephen Hawking debacle. Alright. I'll get on to Pliny tonight.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Resilience
It's very hot, said Pliny the Elder, fanning himself with a piece of paper.
Yes it is, I agreed. Thirty eight degrees. Thanks to global warming. Would you like an iced coffee?
No thankyou. A glass of water will suffice. And I don't feel very hungry either. What are we having for dinner? Something cold I hope?
Mince, I said. You're welcome to have it cold, but personally I think that would be repulsive.
True, said Pliny. But it would be better than what I had last night.
What was that? I asked.
Nothing, he replied.
Why, aren't you very well? I enquired.
I'm perfectly well, but you were not home at dinner time last night and there was nothing to eat and so I had nothing.
Oh dear, I'm sorry. We went to a lecture in the city. We had nibbles and drinks afterwards.
Oh. Was it nice?
Very nice. Sushi, crumbed prawns, smoked salmon, cheese triangles, spring rolls, wine. And there was such a lot of it. Hardly anybody came, because of the heat. The caterer looked very disappointed. I think he was worried he wouldn't get paid.
What a shame. What was the topic of the lecture?
Resilience. Developing a Resilient Australia in an Age of Uncertainty.
There is a degree of irony in that, said Pliny.
There is, I agreed.
Yes it is, I agreed. Thirty eight degrees. Thanks to global warming. Would you like an iced coffee?
No thankyou. A glass of water will suffice. And I don't feel very hungry either. What are we having for dinner? Something cold I hope?
Mince, I said. You're welcome to have it cold, but personally I think that would be repulsive.
True, said Pliny. But it would be better than what I had last night.
What was that? I asked.
Nothing, he replied.
Why, aren't you very well? I enquired.
I'm perfectly well, but you were not home at dinner time last night and there was nothing to eat and so I had nothing.
Oh dear, I'm sorry. We went to a lecture in the city. We had nibbles and drinks afterwards.
Oh. Was it nice?
Very nice. Sushi, crumbed prawns, smoked salmon, cheese triangles, spring rolls, wine. And there was such a lot of it. Hardly anybody came, because of the heat. The caterer looked very disappointed. I think he was worried he wouldn't get paid.
What a shame. What was the topic of the lecture?
Resilience. Developing a Resilient Australia in an Age of Uncertainty.
There is a degree of irony in that, said Pliny.
There is, I agreed.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Page 470
It is past midnight. Someone is creeping down the passage. Entering the kitchen he gropes on the cupboard near the radio. It is Pliny the Elder and he is searching for Moby Dick!
He locates the book, picks it up and tiptoes into the lounge, where he closes the sliding doors behind him and turns on the dimmest of lights by which it is still possible to read. He sits down on a comfortable brown leather 2-seater and examines the book.
It is an old well-thumbed paperback copy, with water-stained sides, and from somewhere near the middle a cardboard bookmark sticks out. It is a remarkable bookmark, in the shape of the flukes of a whale. But Pliny is not interested in the bookmark, which marks page 278. He is interested in page 470.
He opens the book, locates page 470, and reads:
DOES THE WHALE'S MAGNITUDE DIMINISH? WILL HE PERISH?
Assuredly we must conclude so, if we are to credit the accounts of such gentlemen as Pliny, and the ancient naturalists generally. For Pliny tells us of whales that embraced acres of living bulk....... But will any whaleman believe these stories? No. The whale of today is as big as his ancestors in Pliny's time. And if ever I go where Pliny is, I, a whaleman, ( more than he was ) will make bold to tell him so.
Monstrous! exclaims Pliny. I am defamed! I was only reporting tales I'd heard from others. Does no one understand authorial irony? I will not get back to sleep tonight. I'll make myself a cup of tea and commence reading Moby Dick from page one. No book is so bad that one cannot learn something useful from it.
He locates the book, picks it up and tiptoes into the lounge, where he closes the sliding doors behind him and turns on the dimmest of lights by which it is still possible to read. He sits down on a comfortable brown leather 2-seater and examines the book.
It is an old well-thumbed paperback copy, with water-stained sides, and from somewhere near the middle a cardboard bookmark sticks out. It is a remarkable bookmark, in the shape of the flukes of a whale. But Pliny is not interested in the bookmark, which marks page 278. He is interested in page 470.
He opens the book, locates page 470, and reads:
DOES THE WHALE'S MAGNITUDE DIMINISH? WILL HE PERISH?
Assuredly we must conclude so, if we are to credit the accounts of such gentlemen as Pliny, and the ancient naturalists generally. For Pliny tells us of whales that embraced acres of living bulk....... But will any whaleman believe these stories? No. The whale of today is as big as his ancestors in Pliny's time. And if ever I go where Pliny is, I, a whaleman, ( more than he was ) will make bold to tell him so.
Monstrous! exclaims Pliny. I am defamed! I was only reporting tales I'd heard from others. Does no one understand authorial irony? I will not get back to sleep tonight. I'll make myself a cup of tea and commence reading Moby Dick from page one. No book is so bad that one cannot learn something useful from it.
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