I was awakened early this morning by the scaffolders next door. They were shouting up and down their construction about Mediaeval imagination and the birth of nationhood. I yelled out the window, What’s with the academic bullshit! Get a proper job, like the rest of us. They told me where to go, then began upon the subject of aggression and gender identity.
Still angry, I put on a clown nose, a red fuzzy wig, and left for work.
Driving was hell in my clown shoes, but I managed to crash the car near enough work that I could walk the rest of the way.
I entered the offices, and as I passed those gathered by the coffee machine, a phrase came to mind: The psychology of hell is strewn with coffee tables. Putting this to one side, I went to my office to attend to paperwork.
Eight hours later I went home. The scaffolders were still there, still shouting—discussing the possibility of intelligent life in the universe. I shouted up at them, Impossible, don’t be so stupid!
My argument seemed to win them over, as they conceded—in surprisingly good humour—that it is doubtful.
What do you think?