I haven’t got much to say right now. Well, actually, there are lots of things I’d like to say, but they concern things which, are, as it were, in a state of flux. Imagine, if you will, children roasting on an open fire a lot of plates set whirling on the tops of poles. Only without the poles. And, oh yes, there’s a guinea pig. So, unable to say anything much, at least about the things I’d like to chat with you about, I shall, instead, talk about sex.
Well, not quite. In thinking up this blog, I was reminded of a book in my parents’ library called Kindly Sit Down, a collection of after-dinner stories, and to get meta, stories about after-dinner stories. One of these concerns a celebrity who had been invited to give the after-dinner speech at his local yacht club.
The dinner was, as these things are, a well lubricated affair, all three fingers being well over the yard arm, to coin a nautical phrase, and so on and so forth. The speaker rose to enthusiastic applause, and started his speech in this manner – “I don’t know anything about yachting, so, instead, I’m going to talk about sex”.
Really, I should remember this line for myself when next invited to talk at a research institute or university whose palette of research topics strays from my comfort zone. “I don’t know anything about the release of calcium from intracellular stores,” I might start, “so, instead, I’m going to talk about sex.”
But I digress.
The speech was a resounding success, and the speaker was justifiably the toast of every capstan and spinnaker. The dinner went on very late, and when the celebrity got home, he crept quietly into bed so as not to wake his wife.
The next day, the celebrity’s wife met the wife of the President of the yacht club in the supermarket. “Your husband gave an excellent speech at the yacht club!” said Mrs President of yacht club.
“Really?” said Mrs Celeb, “He’s had a go at it so many times, but every time he tries he just gets tangled up in the sheets.”
I’m here all week, folks.