Book Adventure

          Today we climbed the Col Du Bonhomme, a thousand metres of pure ascent. A tough, but satisfying day, and tonight we rest at the Refuge du Plan de la Laie. Ed handed over Women in Love to me with instructions to finish reading it by Landry, the next town in two days time.

He wants us to play the parts of Gerald and Birkin while we’re there, it’s to be the first of the new ‘book adventures’.

Inoffensive

          Early this morning I woke up with the sun shining straight through the canvas into my eyes with enough strength to prevent proper sleep. I tried to hide under my pillow but realised I didn’t have one, only various clothes now scattered about my head. I noticed eventually that Ed was awake too, but in denial of the fact. He was pretending to be asleep. I had a rock directly under my back and shifted awkwardly around it. The good news, at least, is that I've realised I can post from my mobile, and there's actually signal out here, so here goes!

            “Oh fuck it,” said Ed, suddenly and loudly. “Let’s get moving, we’ve got mountains to conquer.”

 

*

 

            The first ascent was truly epic. We came across the lake very early, enjoying the bright clear sun and the fresh breeze. As soon as we disembarked on the southern side we located the first GR5 marker: a red and white stripe on a rock. With excitement we looked further up the road and saw the second, and so the next adventure began. To reach the first waypoint, at the top of the mountain adjacent to Lac Lemon, we had to ascend 1,500 metres, around a whole vertical mile. To demonstrate just how ridiculous this is I’ll point out that the highest ‘mountain’ in England is only 1,000 metres tall.

            Three quarters of the way up Ed had a mini-stroke. There’s no other description for it.

            We’d been going for about three hours at a quick, optimistic pace. The gradient was extremely severe and I can’t deny that I was becoming incredibly weary. We hadn’t trained for the walk and it was really taking its toll. I suggested we take a break after a while, or at least slow down, and Ed laughed at me. He was very red in the face though…

Eventually, when he was walking ahead of me, he suddenly stumbled to the side and fell backwards on his pack. He started gasping.

            “Tom… I… can’t feel… my fingers.”

            I looked at him with horror. He started shaking his hands vigorously and then pressed them against his chest.

            “My heart! It’s… thumping so hard… nearly… out of my chest!”

            Then, all at once, he jerked to the side and threw up amongst the rocks and grass.

            He paused, for a moment, gasping again, and then all at once stood up.

            “I’m fine now,” he declared, looking anything but.

            “I don’t think so, Ed. You need a doctor, and fast. Let’s go back down, or you can wait here and I’ll go.”

            “Tom,” he said, staggering over to me and placing a hand on my shoulder, “we’ve come this far and I won’t betray everything you’ve worked for by failing us now. We’ve come too far.” He looked me in the eyes with all the intensity of an artic explorer.

            “Okay,” I said slowly, “but we’re turning back at the first sign of trouble.”

            We waited for ten minutes or so, as Ed recovered, and then continued along. After a further struggle we finally made it to the peak. This was only the end of the initial climb, however, there was much more still to go over this brief horizon.

            It was an odd spot, almost a cratered peak, like that of a volcano, and in the hollow someone had built a very small farming area with a few barns and little cottages. Oddly though, it was completely abandoned.

            “Let’s stop here!” Ed suggested eagerly. And so we had a break. Ed had brought along a Frisbee and we threw it to one another across the cratered area, occasionally resulting in crazed dangerous rescue missions when it went astray. Time passed and eventually we stopped for a break and looked down the long valley we had conquered back to the lake. Technically we still had a distance to cover if we were to stick to the planned schedule but Ed argued that we should stay in the crater for the night. I reluctantly agreed, if only for fear of straining his heart any further.

           

*

 

            “Hey, Tom, over here!” shouted Ed. I’d begun to unpack a few things to set up for the night and Ed had wandered off to explore. I went around a rock and found him on a sort of ledge overlooking the valley. The sun had begun to set now and he had draped himself over a giant cross. He was silhouetted against a dark orange sky over a dusken valley.

            “That’s not funny Ed.”

            He dismounted and walked over to me.

            “What’s your problem?”

            “Well, it’s a bit offensive.”

            “Tom, you don’t believe in God.”

            “No, but still.”

            “Still what? What’s going to happen?”

            “It offends people who do believe.”

            “Aside from the fact that that’s a good thing, look around you Tom, there’s no one out here, we’re all alone.”

            “Just don’t do it.”

            If ever there was a stupid thing to say. Ed immediately turned back to the cross and once again hung himself over it, head lolling to the side.

            “Have the courage of your convictions Tom, make a choice. If you believe then strike me down, but if you don’t then stop being a prick.”

            “I’d rather have the humility of one who’s in no position to know any certain truths.”

            “No, that’s right, you never do know anything for certain do you? You need to stop dithering and make some choices in life. Be a man. Or would you rather just be inoffensive all your life?”

            “Let’s go set up the tent, Ed.”

            “Fuck that,” said Ed, content to take my change of subject, “let’s sleep in there!” he was pointing to one of the barns.

            “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. What if a farmer or someone comes?”

            But Ed was not to be persuaded and sure enough we stayed the night in the barn. After a brief meal we climbed into our sleeping bags on the dusty floor of the barn, closed the door and tried to sleep. Light still came into the barn through cracks between the wooden planks that made the walls. The light dimmed slowly but surely, reducing the barn to grey, and just as surely I was filled with a terrible dread, like vertigo.

I have to be out here for another six or seven weeks to pull this thing off. Can I handle Ed for that long? What will become of my job? What will become of Sharona and Annabell? The singers of ‘I Would Walk 500 Miles’ were trying to prove their love to one woman, who am I trying to prove it to? Am I proving anything at all?

Can't You Be Serious?

          I met Robin for lunch today and told him all about the wedding crasher plan.

            “How amusing,” he said, when I was done, “but it’s all rather silly isn’t it? I mean, shouldn’t you be knuckling down to work now?”

            “Eh?” I said, rather nonplussed.

            “Come on Tom, you’re not yourself these days. Where’s the hard working man I knew who’d put the drive to succeed above all else. You were playing the game perfectly before you got all these non-conventional ideas into your head. You have to pull yourself back together and stop living this silly fantasy life.”

            “What’s your problem Robin? I don’t need all this negativity.”

            “‘Negativity’? I’m sorry Tom, but you begin to sound like a Scientologist. What’s Ed getting you into?”

            At that moment I received another text message from Fiona. She wanted to go out on another date. I decided to ignore it. The timing was good though. The tension broke and Robin tactfully changed subject. We sat through the rest of lunch with reasonable civility. Nonetheless, his words had affected me.

 

*

 

            This evening I sat down with Ed to have dinner.

            “Ed,” I began, “I want to have a serious chat with you for a moment.”

            He laughed.

            “I’m serious, Ed.”

            “I know, that’s what’s so funny.”

            “But you don’t even know what it’s about.”

            “Okay, okay,” he said, calming down, but preserving a sardonic smile.

            “Where are we going with all this stuff? Don’t you think we ought to think about the future a little more carefully?” Ed had begun laughing again. “Honestly Ed, pull yourself together. I’m talking about both of us now, even you have to consider the future at some point. What’s going to happen to you when this hedonistic life of yours is no longer sustainable?”

            Ed was by now uncontrollable.

            “What’s your fucking problem, Ed, can’t you ever be serious about anything, for even a moment?”

Submarines and Lifeguards

          We continued consideration of the appropriate dock this morning. We quickly ruled out Sallum in Egypt, Kyrenia in Cyprus, Gagra in Georgia and Pammiut in Greenland. These places were just two remote and appalling for contemplation. It therefore came down to Dakhla in Moroccan controlled Western Sahara or Silifke in Turkey.

            Dakhla had some serious appeal. It looked like a fascinating destination full of unusual culture. Ed had other ideas.

            “Nobody goes to Dakhla. Where are you going to meet the chicks? It’s gotta be Turkey: we’re bound to score there.”

            “You do know both countries are muslim?”

            “And what… they don’t fuck?

            “Well… not as obviously.” We both laughed.

            “Maybe. But I reckon the Turks are less likely to execute me for my sins.”

            After investigating the costs I had to concede defeat. Dakhla would’ve been so expensive, whereas Turkey was dirt cheap. We managed to book flights straight away. We’ll be leaving early on Tuesday morning!

            “Now what?” Ed asked.

            “I think it’s your turn.”

            “What do you mean? We’re both doing this.”

            “Yes,” I said, “but really it’s been mainly about me thus far. I’ve been the centre of these Adventures.”

            “Yeah yeah, you’re the centre of the world.”

            “Scarcely. What’s the matter, are you scared?”

            “Don’t be ridiculous.”

            “Right. I’m going to pick a random song to start you off with. From now on we’ll both have our lines of adventures.” Ed frowned. “Okay… here we go. Er… I know! ‘The Submarine Song’ by… um… 7 Seconds of Love.”

            “Who the hell are they?”

            “Some band I found on the internet the other day. They make cartoon videos for their songs. It’s very funny.”

            Ed loaded it up and we watched through the video.

I don’t want a fucking pogo stick,

I just want a submarine,

Fucking pedal car can suck my dick,

I just want a submarine.

 

            It has to be seen. Ed was in stitches. “I’m pleasantly surprised,” he allowed. “Okay. So what do I have to do then? Come on, use your imagination.”

            I thought for a moment. “Er… submarines… want a submarine… swimming pool… Right: you have to buy a remote controlled submarine and use it in the nearest public swimming pool.”

            “Grab yer bathers!”

 

*

 

            Sometime later we discovered and visited a rather impressive remote controlled anything shop in Holloway. Apparently the contents were so valuable that the door to the shop had to be kept permanently locked with access through a buzzer system. Either that or Holloway’s the Liverpool of London. We found a sub and having enquired about the returns policy we acquired it and were on our way.

            It’s been years since I went to a local pool and experienced that overpowering stench of chlorine and all those irritating screaming kids. Ed put a towel around his waist and slipped the sub underneath. He looked up at me.

            “Yes. I’m glad to see you,” he said, grinning.

            “For god’s sake man, there are children round here!”

            “Okay. You’re so dull!” He took off the towel and wrapped it around the sub. We walked out, through the freezing foot cleaning water, to the main pool.

            Various women were mindlessly completing lengths up and down two dedicated lanes on the side of the pool. The rest of it was dedicated to free swimmers. We sat down by the side of the pool and looked about, watching the life guards. The one nearest to us looked like a blonde buff brainless meat head. He gazed over the pool as a king might over his kingdom, as high above us in his own opinion as in height, on the top of his stand. We watched him furtively, waiting for our chance. Eventually he became distracted by a curvaceous blonde drying herself near to his chair. We slipped the sub out of the towel and jumped into the water. Ed stood in the pool with his back to the lifeguard and brought out the remote control.

            You’d never believe just how much fun you can have with a remote controlled submarine. It was about a foot long and three inches in diameter. Naturally it was yellow. At first Ed just kept attacking me with it, and I’ll admit it was pretty amusing. I kept trying to dodge it under the water but the thing moved with some speed. Then he decided to test its range and sent it on a deep sea mission across to the other corner of the pool. He brought it around under the nose of the lifeguard and let it surface slowly.

            “He’s turning round, he’s about to see it!” I whispered frantically. Ed quickly surfaced it and high-fived me. We giggled like a pair of school boys. Unfortunately a little boy had spotted it by now and as Ed brought it back to us the boy swam after it. Ed tried to lose him but he was two quick, and he spotted us controlling it. He swam over.

            “That’s so cooooooool!” he shouted. The lifeguard span around to see what dared intrude his serene reign of power. He spotted us immediately and came sauntering over, pretending to be relaxed and composed about everything.

            “What’ve you got there boys?” he asked, condescendingly.

            “A remote controlled sub, plainly,” answered Ed.

            “Well I’m afraid you’ll have to hand it over and desist.” The lifeguard flexed his pectoral muscles involuntarily.

            “I don’t think,” said Ed, “this is a public pool and we’re the public. We’re just entertaining ourselves.”

            “I can’t allow you to do that.”

            “What? Entertain ourselves?”

            “Play with the submarine.”

            “Why ever not?”

            The lifeguard paused. “It might hurt one of the children.”

            Ed burst out laughing. “Whatever mate,” he said, and turned away to continue messing about with the sub.

            “I’m warning you,” said the lifeguard, “hand over the sub right now or I’ll remove you from the premises.” Ed turned around and looked at him appraisingly. He raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and turned back to the sub. “Right,” said the lifeguard, “that’s it.”

            He dived in and physically grabbed Ed who immediately shrugged him off and pushed him away back into the side of the pool. Swimmers all around noticed the confrontation and turned to look.

            “Now what?” asked Ed. “Do you feel like the big man? Get your kicks trying to spoil everyone’s fun? Are you special? You’re a lifeguard, nothing more, so don’t try to drown people. You know my friend here’s a barrister? One more move by you and we’ll sue you.”

            I looked away.

            “Fine. I’ll go get security,” he said.

            “Don’t bother mate. We’re leaving.”

            We climbed out of the pool and the lifeguard returned quickly to his post, puffing himself up and nodding his head furiously, as though trying to establish some kind of victory. We walked around the side of the pool past him on our way out and Ed paused. He went right up to the lifeguard who stared right ahead as though ridiculously pretending not to see Ed.

            “One more thing before we leave.” He waited.

            “What’s that?” the lifeguard finally replied, teeth gnashing.

            “What’s your favourite song?” Ed laughed.

            The lifeguard turned to face him slowly and nose to nose he slowly gave his answer. “How about ‘Fuck Off’ by ‘The Fuck Offs’.”

            “Haha, that’s brilliant,” Ed replied, “so smart. Good day to you, you fine specimen of humanity.”

 

*

 

            Back at home we looked on the internet and discovered, to our shock and surprise, that there is actually a band called The Fuck Offs. We couldn’t find any of their music sadly, though we did discover some song titles. The alternative option was ‘Get the Fuck Out’ by Skid Row. Nice song that one, I can assure you. The latter had lyrics but actually the song titles of The Fuck Offs were somehow more inspiring to us. Ed was desperate to do an adventure based on ‘Milf Daydreams’ but I insisted that it was my choice and we had to do ‘Hold up a Liquor’ so we went to the pub.

 

*

 

            Down the pub we bought a line of shots. Ed made a competition of it and successfully beat me by downing them all in spectacular speed. He’s always inventing games he can win.

            At the end of the last shot ‘Sexyback’ by Justin Timberlake came on and I had a new idea.

            “Right,” I said, “here’s your next challenge. You have to find a girl and use JT’s chat-up line on them: ‘them other boys they don’t know how to act, I’m bringing sexy back.’”

            “Done,” said Ed, slamming his glass down on the bar and ordering his next drink. Once equipped with said drink he immediately turned and approached the nearest two girls on a nearby table. I watched him whisper in the ear of one of them and grin at her. She looked scornfully back at him and said something I couldn’t quite catch before looking straight at me. Ed looked over too and then came reluctantly back to me.

            “She wants to talk to you,” he said.

            “What?”

            “I know. Ridiculous isn’t it? Some people just don’t know what’s good for them.”

            It turned out she’d had her eye on me for a while. They were Essex girls up for the weekend and were heading on to a club after the pub. She invited me along and initially I thought it might be a good idea. As time wore on, however, I realised we had nothing in common. It was awful. I couldn’t even begin a conversation with her; we were truly poles apart. She was only interested in the latest celebrity gossip and Posh Spice’s newest look. She did spare a minute or two to entertain me with her thoughts on Ed who she considered an extraordinary example of a loser. This was as far as we got and so after a short while I retreated to Ed and noted she didn’t complain – such distance is apparent even to one so lacking in basic intelligence.

            Rather deflated from our various disappointments we decided to call it a night and went home. On the way I thought about the girl’s favourite song, ‘Déjà vu’, though I couldn’t, and still can’t remember who she said it was sung by.

Have You Seen 'Hostel'?

          Last night, before I lost meaningful consciousness, I promised to go with Ed’s next adventure so long as it didn’t break the rules (too seriously, as Ed put it). He told me I had to take two weeks off work and in my drunkenness I gladly agreed.

            This morning, hung over as hell, I had to make it happen. I’m a barrister, so I’m self-employed. This means I can take holidays whenever I like and for however long. This is great, but of course I don’t get paid while I’m not working. Equally, my job is based entirely on reputation, and so long as you’re not working, you’ve got no reputation.

            And then there are my clerks. They live off a percentage of my earnings. That means that any day I’m not working is a day they don’t earn money off my back. In order to book holiday you have to inform them so they can organise your diary properly. So it was that I had to speak to my Senior Clerk today.

            “Er… I was… um… hoping to book some holiday. That is… if it’s okay by you?”

            “Have you got a note from your mum?” He asked.

            “Eh?”

            “I’m only pulling your leg sir.”

            “Oh. Yes. I see.”

            “When?”

            “The next two weeks…”

            “No.”

            “Um… No. Er… I see. Er… it’s just it’s really important.”

            “You have to give more notice than this.”

            “Yes… it’s just that something just came up.”

            “Serious personal issue is it, sir? Do I explain to the solicitors that it’s compassionate leave?”

            “Er… not exactly.”

            “So it’s just a whim then?”

            “No… er… that is, yes, um, it is a personal issue. Yes, serious tragedy in the family.”

            “You have my condolences sir.” He looked at me gravely. “Don’t let it happen again.” He narrowed his eyes briefly before returning to his work.

 

*

 

            This evening Ed and I sat down to discuss the next Adventure.

“I don’t know about all this Ed. I shouldn’t really just be taking time off work on a whim.”

            “You’re not. This is serious.”

            “It’s not though, is it, really? I should be out there living and working properly.”

            “You should be doing nothing.”

            “Everyone’s got to do something.”

            “Whatever. Here’s how this will work. The last song we heard the other night was ‘Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay’. In that song we hear the lyrics ‘2000 miles I roam, just to make this dock my home’.”

            “Okay.” I said.

            “So we go find a dock 2000 miles away and make it our home for a little while.”

            “Right,” I said, thinking. A holiday would be good. It didn’t seem immediately the most idiotic thing to do. “Okay.”

            “Good.” Ed seemed relieved at my acceptance of the situation. The watershed moment had passed and he was still in control. “I took the liberty of consulting an atlas with a compass. Here, look.” He pulled out an Atlas and turned to a page with a giant circle drawn over it. “Right,” he said, “here are the options,” and he pointed to each enthusiastically as he mentioned them, “Dakhla, Sallum, Silifke, Kyrenia, Gagra and Pammiut.”

            “Wow,” I said, “what a bunch of celebrated and worthwhile destinations.”

            “Now now, Tom, we don’t choose our destiny, it chooses us.”

            “Mmmmm… I always knew I was born to visit a fishing town in Georgia.”

            “Ha ha. Well… maybe we won’t go there. Or maybe we should. The remote places might have the most interesting locals!”

            “Have you seen ‘Hostel’, Ed?”

            “Fine. Well, you’ve seen the options. Let’s think about it over a beer and a good night’s sleep.”

Going with the Flow

“Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?” – St. Paul, Epistle to the Romans.

 

 

          What an exhausting day!

 

*

 

            It started badly. I was hung-over as hell. Last night we did the ‘S Club’ adventure which pretty much consisted of going out to the cheesiest club we could find, which turned out to ‘Hombres’ off Oxford Street.

            We got utterly wasted, in the spirit of the place, and then Ed went to the DJ around midnight and requested ‘S Club Party’. The DJ complied and we lost it on the dance floor going crazy to the track out of some kind of deluded belief that it was all somehow important.

            Ed’s dancing somehow got him picked up by some random girl I hadn’t even noticed. The last I saw of him he was being dragged off. Looking over his shoulder he shouted, “The next song, Tom!” before disappearing.

 

*

 

            So it was that around midday today we found ourselves heading out to Camden to do the next quest: ‘I wish I was a Punk Rocker’ (the disco remix) by Sandi Thom.

            I always secretly fancied trying a punk or goth look, but I’d never have lived it down – what would my friends and family have thought? Today the Pixies of Fate had decreed I do it; who am I to argue with their whim?

            Between us we each bought a long black leather coat, black trousers and black boots. We both gelled our hair into makeshift Mohicans. Ed sprayed his hair with temporary red paint and I did mine in green. It must’ve looked awful but there was something quite exhilarating and empowering about the misdirection and anonymity of it. After all, who’d have guessed that I was a barrister! I must admit, Ed wore it well. He has uniquely dark grey eyes and an almost natural Victorian-Gothic look to his features.

            At the end of our transformation we took a walk around Camden market testing out the feel of the look. It was incredible to experience the sudden perspective shift. Everyone treats you differently. You’re suddenly part of a totally different sub-category of human beings. People that would normally ignore you suddenly nodded out of respect and those who would usually have comfortably stood by your side at the bar kept their distance and glanced side-long out of weakly concealed curiosity: what kind of man dresses that way?

 

*

 

            We walked past a store playing ‘No Phone’ by Cake.

            Ed looked at me and grinned.

            “What?” I asked.

            He began rifling through the bag he’d been carrying that contained all our spare clothes. Eventually he located my trousers and took out my mobile phone.

            “Er…” I started, then paused to watch him. He removed the back and took out my SIM card. “What are you going to do with that?” I asked.

            Without warning Ed threw my phone into the canal. I gaped at him in disbelief.

            “No Phone.” He said.

            “You fucking bastard. Why didn’t you throw your own in?”

            “Okay.” He replied. He took his own phone out and started to remove the SIM.

            “No, hang on. Don’t do that, it’s just stupid.”

            “No no, I’m with you, it’s only fair. It’s a shit phone anyway.”

            He threw it in the canal. Some passers-by looked at him as though at a lunatic. He laughed maniacally.

            “Come on then, let’s go buy some new phones.”

 

*

 

            We obtained some new handsets from a local Carphone Warehouse. My old one had been good. I resented Ed for throwing away my phone but I couldn’t seem to express my anger. Somehow he had this self composed arrogant dominance that acted as a thick armour against reproach. If I told him how angry I was it would mean nothing to him. Instead, he’d just give me some brief lecture about the ignorant way in which I lived my life. I tried, therefore, to play along and act as though I were ‘going with the flow’.

            Ed asked the salesman to name his favourite song.

            “Roxanne, by the Police.”

            Ed instantly turned to me, his eyes gleaming.

            “No.” I said. For anyone that isn’t aware, Roxanne is a song all about a prostitute. It seemed pretty clear what Ed was thinking, the dirty bastard.

            “Come on, you pussy. Now’s the perfect time! You’re single so you won’t even be unfaithful to anyone.”

            The argument continued on the way home, Ed relentlessly pushing the idea of involving me in some sort of prostitute adventure. Eventually, about half an hour ago he finally became a little angry.

            “You can’t go picking and choosing the adventures Tom.”

            “But we made rules. We don’t do anything that could lose me my job.”

            “You won’t lose your job over this. You’re just an irrelevant junior barrister. No one cares. Anyway, we’ll hire escorts, not prostitutes.”

            “I thought they were the same thing. Anyway, I’m not doing it.”

            He sighed. His brief anger dissipated and suddenly he smiled.

            “You might think you won’t do it,” he said, “but you will…”

Little Girl Gorilla Sociopaths

          “Listen, Ed, about The Plan,” I started, “I’m not sure I like the way we decide upon these adventures.”

            “Really? Why’s that?”

            “Well it’s a bit… random.”

            Ed laughed. “That’s the idea.”

            “Yes, of course. I understand that. But we need more structure don’t we? I mean, we don’t know whether we’re being inspired by song title, lyrics or some other factor. And there’s no particular guide to the type of thing we do either. It just seems to be the first thing that pops into your head!”

            “Sounds good to me.”

            “Yes, but how do we know where we are with it?”

            “Tom, it seems to me you’re missing the point. We specifically don’t want to know ‘where we are’. That’s The Plan.”

            “Hmmmm. Did you sort out the potholing then?”

            “No. I was actually working this last week.”

            “There’s a first. Let’s just head down the underground again then, as I suggested.”

            “What about gorillas?”

            “What about them?”

            “There’re giant gorillas in that Deeper Underground film aren’t there?”

            “I thought they were dinosaurs.”

            “Whatever. Let’s go to the zoo either way.”

            It did seem like a reasonable plan, without any obvious danger attached to it. So we went to the zoo.

 

*

 

            We walked past a bunch of monkeys, on the way to the gorilla enclosure. They seemed happy enough, but it was hard to tell.

            “Do you think they’d rather be free?” I asked.

            “Do you think you are free?” Ed replied.

            “Of course. I can walk away from this zoo and do whatever I like. These monkeys are stuck here behind bars.”

            “Alright. If you think you’re free then why don’t you just go ahead and punch that woman over there.”

            “No. I’ll be arrested.”

            “But it’d be fun. And besides, you’re supposed to be free.”

            “Obviously I’m within the constraints of society.”

            “Are you, really?”

            “Everyone is.”

            “Not quite. Human society has been evolving in the past few thousands years. In every society of animals or men there are evolutionary points of equilibrium. For example, in most human societies there is a more or less equal birth rate between men and women. If it sways one way or the other temporarily then the female population evolves and gives birth to more of the lower density sex.”

            “So?”

            “So… As well as tolerating a fifty percent female population, human society also finds equilibrium with a population consisting of two percent sociopaths.” He paused for dramatic effect.

            “I see.” I said, doubtfully.

            “Now, a sociopath doesn’t live within the moral constraints of society. The only thing that stops him is rational understanding of material consequences. Therefore, if he can see an advantage in an action, and no negative material consequence, then he will freely do it. Thus there are no qualms over violence, dishonesty or good old plain selfishness. He can take every material advantage offered to him.

            “The good of society survives by reciprocal acts of socially conscious people who think: ‘if I act in this way and do good for this person then one day someone else will do good for me too.’ And so everybody lives in harmony. But in such a society it is possible for two percent of the individuals to never do good without breaking down the popular belief in mutual cooperation. These people, therefore, can get everything the rest of us get for no cost, and they are as free as it is possible to be in this day and age.”

            “You sound as though you admire them.”

            “I do.”

            I frowned. We were by the gorillas now and I desired a change of subject. I turned to the nearest gorilla and spoke to it through the bars:

            “What’s your favourite song then eh?”

            “You’re an idiot,” said the high-pitched gorilla, and then I realised it was a little girl standing next to me. “Gorillas can’t speak.”

            “Didn’t your mother teach you never to insult strangers?”

            “No,” said her mother, suddenly behind me, “I told her not to insult strangers unless they merited it and I was nearby.”

            I glanced at her as though at a sociopath. “Riiiight. Anyway. So, little girl, what’s your favourite song then?”

            “S Club Party.”

            “Mmmmm. I might’ve known.”