Collected Columns

by Michael Frayn

  ‘You said you were going to get one of those hand-knitted Vietnamese ones like ours,’ says Lavinia. ‘Didn’t they, darling? What happened? I mean, goodness knows, it’s your home – it’s up to you to decide what sort of doormat you want in it. But when it’s been scientifically proved by independent experts that the hand-knitted ones have by far the highest mat-sole abrasion co-efficient …!’

  By the time we sit down to dinner the Crumbles have already put our domestic economy right on a number of points, and it’s the turn of my wife’s cooking for a helping hand. But the tact they do it with!

  ‘This apple-pie is absolutely marvellous, isn’t it darling?’ ‘Marvellous!’

  ‘Marvellous! Of course, we’ve rather gone off having heavy pastry dishes on top of great, greasy meals – haven’t we, darling? -and I’ve got a wonderful new recipe for mango sorbet that you absolutely must try.’

  ‘We think it’s the only pudding in the world, don’t we, darling?’

  ‘Though, of course, we adore apple-pie, too.’

  It also turns out in the course of conversation – and this we had not known or suspected before – that we are absolutely obliged to read Ned Ogham’s new novel (which Lavinia will send us) about a Midlands couple who keep a chicken grill, and who barbecue a passing encyclopaedia salesman in the Rotisso-mat as a sacrifice to the sun-god. We are under a further categorical imperative to see Fred Umble’s new play (Christopher will get us the tickets) about a group of workers in an expanded polystyrene factory who ritually beat the tea-girl to death with plastic spoons, and eat her for lunch in a Dionysiac frenzy in the works canteen.

  And what about the floor? Do we like the way it is? inquires Christopher with all the old tact. Or shall he bring over the five-gallon drum of Simpson’s ‘Florscraypa’ they happen to have left from doing their lavatory, so we can really get down on our hands and knees this weeked and start all over again?

  ‘Of course,’ says Lavinia, ‘it would make all the difference to the room if the ceiling were brightened up a bit, wouldn’t it, darling?’

  ‘They’d be far better off with something on the ceiling, certainly. How about wallpaper!’

  ‘Yes! One of those rather William. Morrissy ones!’

  ‘That’s a tremendously exciting idea, darling. We’ll pop along to that little man of ours in Muswell Hill tomorrow and see what he’s got.’

  ‘Then we could throw out that ghastly old sofa and get a chaise-longue. We could cover it with one of those rather art-nouveauish prints, couldn’t we, darling?’

  They’re also going to get our children into a marvellous pre-nursery school that all our friends use, with a very high pass rate into the top nursery schools in the district, though whether to send them now or after the Christmas exam season they haven’t quite decided yet. They don’t think there’s any need to worry too much about the children’s development, we’re relieved to hear, provided we treat them as rational human beings, on a man-to-man basis, the way the Crumbles would treat their own children, if they had any.

  ‘Of course, what children need most,’ explains Lavinia, ‘as psychiatrists now agree, is a constructively disturbed home background.’

  ‘As I expect you know,’ smiles Christopher, ‘the really well-adjusted couples aren’t the ones who are so suspiciously polite and loving to one another all the time. Are they, darling?’

  ‘No – the really well-adjusted couples are the ones who fight like cat and dog at every opportunity. We have the most tremendously helpful fights, don’t we, darling?’

  ‘Oh, all the time. We were just thinking the other day – weren’t we, darling? – that whenever we see you two you scarcely so much as say a word to each other. It’s very bad to bottle it all up, you know. If you want to have a bit of a scrap, you go ahead. We don’t mind. Do we, darling?’

  Heavens, we’re grateful for all they’ve done for us. About the only service left unperformed is to tell us that of course our breath smells marvellous, but we absolutely must try a wonderful little deodorant toothpaste they know about …

  How about it, darlings?

  (1964)

  Fog-like sensations

  (According to some sympathisers, the reason why drivers on the motorways failed to slow down in thick fog recently, and so crashed into each other in multiple collisions of up to thirty vehicles, was simply because the authorities had failed to provide illuminated signs explaining that the fog was fog. This is a situation on which Wittgenstein made one or two helpful remarks in a previously unpublished section of ‘Philosophical Investigations’.)

  694. Someone says, with every sign of bewilderment (wrinkled forehead, widened eyes, an anxious set to the mouth): ‘I do not know there is fog on the road unless it is accompanied by an illuminated sign saying “fog”.’

  When we hear this, we feel dizzy. We experience the sort of sensations that go with meeting an old friend one believed was dead. I want to say: ‘But this is the man philosophers are always telling us about! This is the man who does not understand – the man who goes on asking for explanations after everything has been explained!’

  (A sort of Socratic Oliver Twist. Compare the feelings one would have on meeting Oliver Twist in the flesh. ‘And now I want you to meet Oliver Twist.’ – ‘But …!’)

  695. Now I feel a different sort of excitement. I see in a flash a thought forming as it were before my mind’s eye – ‘This is at last the sort of situation which philosophers have always waited for – the sort of situation in which one as a philosopher can offer practical help!’

  696. Imagine that the motorist said: ‘The trouble is, I can’t see the fog for the fog.’ We might understand this as a request for practical information, and try to answer it by showing him the definition of ‘fog’ in the dictionary. To this he might reply: ‘I can’t see “fog” for the fog.’ We respond by putting the dictionary an inch in front of his eyes. Now he says: ‘I can’t see the fog for “fog”.’

  697. At this point a philosopher might want to say: ‘He sees the fog but he does not perceive its fogginess.’ Ask yourself what could possibly be the object of saying this.

  698. Now the man says: ‘I can see the fog perfectly well, but I don’t know that it’s fog.’ I feel an urge to say: ‘Yet you know it’s fog that you don’t know to be fog!’ (The deceptively normal air of paradoxes.) One can imagine his replying: ‘Naturally – it looks like fog.’ Or, if he is familiar with philosophical language: ‘Of course – I know that I am having fog-like sensations.’ And if one asked him what he meant by that, perhaps he would say: ‘It looks like what I see in places where I should know what I was seeing if it were labelled “fog”.’

  699. Now the feeling of dizziness vanishes. We feel we want to say: ‘Now it seems more like a dull throbbing behind the eyes.’

  700. Of course, one is familiar with the experience of seeing something ambiguous. ‘Now it is the Taj Mahal – now it is fog.’ And one can imagine having a procedural rule that anything ambiguous should be treated as the Taj Mahal unless we see that it is labelled ‘fog’.

  701. The motorist replies: ‘What sort of rule is this? Surely the best guarantee I can have that the fog is fog is if I fail to see the sign saying “fog” because of the fog.’ – One can imagine uses for the rule. For example, to lure people to their deaths.

  702. Still the man seems uneasy. ‘To be sure that the fog is fog because it is labelled “fog”, I must first be sure that “fog” is “fog”. Now, supposing, without its being perceptible to the naked eye, the top of the “o” were slightly open. How am I to be certain that it could be accepted as a “u”, so that the word was not “fog” at all but “fug”? Or how can I be certain that the first letter is really “f” and not a grossly deformed but still meaningful “b”?’

  So now we have to have a label for ‘fog’! And another label for the label of ‘fog’!

  703. But we are not yet out of the wood! (Or, as one might say, out of the fog.) The motorist mi
ght object: ‘I still cannot understand. I see that the fog is labelled “fog”, and that “fog” is labelled ‘“fog”’, and so forth. But how am I to know that “fog” means fog, or that ‘“fog”’ means “fog”?’

  So we must qualify still further. We must expand ‘fog’ to read ‘“fog”, where “fog” means fog.’

  704. Now imagine the motorist’s face. Imagine that the doubtful expression remains. Imagine that he says: ‘But how do I know that the expression “‘fog’, where ‘fog’ means fog” means “‘fog’, where ‘fog’ means fog”?’

  705. What sort of game are we playing here? What sort language are we using? I am tempted to ask, what sort of man am I being used by? I have a certain feeling that goes with grating teeth, a frown, flushed cheeks. I want to say: ‘My offer of help is being abused.’

  706. One might try to provide the man with a mental picture, a working model of his position – as it were a map to enable him to get his bearings. I might say: ‘You are in a complete mental fog about the whole business.’ He seizes on this eagerly. He goes through the motions of assenting – nodding his head, pursing his lips, saying: ‘Yes, yes, that’s it exactly. I am in a complete mental fog.’

  Now one asks: ‘But how do you know it’s a mental fog you’re in?’

  707. At once he cries: ‘NOW I see! I see that I don’t know I’m in a mental fog at all! I need an illuminated mental sign saying “mental fog”.’

  708. If a lion could speak, it would not understand itself.

  (1964)

  From the Improved Version

  The news that the statue of Nkrumah in Accra, which was damaged by an explosion, bore on its side the inscription, ‘Seek ye first the political kingdom and all the rest shall be added unto you,’ has touched off a great deal of speculation. Where does the quotation come from? I have heard both the Book of Amazing Free Offers and the Second Book of Unsolicited Testimonials suggested – even the Book of Fub.

  In fact, it comes from the Book of Usually Reliable Sources, and was reprinted in that very handy little devotional work for these troubled times, ‘Selected Wisdom from the Improved Version.’ In case you are unacquainted with the range and usefulness of this book, or are looking for an inscription of your own, here are a few more extracts:

  Out of the mouths of babes shall come statements of opinion; out of the mouths of princes and counsellors, maidservants and players of the lute and tabor; and each shall be harkened unto according to his purchasing power. (Majorities xii 15.)

  The wise king holdeth his tongue before his people, and maketh his servant to speak on his behalf unto the multitude. For if the multitude find fault with his servant’s words, then shall the king make public sacrifice of him. And the king shall gain great credit thereby. (Parliamentarians vii 6.)

  And there was heard the voice of one crying in the metropolis: Come ye to have a drink and meet Rock Richmond, who maketh glad the people with his lute. And this same prophet had a coat of camel’s hair, and his meat was oysters and champagne. For he that goeth before must be as empty as the oyster-shell, and his tongue must be soft with wine, that he may become a vessel of smooth and vacant speech. (Fub. ii 18.)

  If a prince seeketh to increase his army, he summoneth not the servant from his master nor the husband from his wife, lest he maketh them wroth. Rather shall he grind the faces of those warriors he hath imprest before, causing them to toil by night even as by day. For these are already wroth, and their labours will not increase the number of the wrathful, nor doth the law permit them to make known their burden in epistles to the press. (Majorities v 20.)

  Seek not to share misfortune evenly among the people; but let it bear heavily upon the few. For howsoever sore afflicted they may be, if they cry out thou mayst rebuke them, saying: Ten thousand thousand are them that praise me; what are ye few against this mighty host? The voice that crieth out in you is the voice of devils, yea, and chastisement shall be added to your afflictions. (Majorities v 23.)

  And he that had mocked the king was brought before him. And the king saith: Mock me again, that I may enjoy that which even the humblest of my subjects hath enjoyed. And the man did as he was bid, and mocked the king, and they that stood about him were sore afraid. But the king betook himself to laughter, and they that were about him did likewise. Then saith the king: Thou shalt have riches, and stay with me, and mock me all the days of my life, that I and no other may have the enjoyment of it. And I shall taste the sweets both of power and of the mockery of power. But when he heard these words, the man was troubled in his soul, and went aside and hanged himself. (Jokers xiv 2.)

  What shall it avail a man, if he keepeth his own soul but loseth his ministry? (Parliamentarians ix 3.)

  Sweet is music, and sweet the playing thereof, yet not so sweet, as to be honoured in its playing. To be virtuous is worth more than gold; but to be known is more precious than rubies. For all the goings in and the goings out of such a man shall be reported. And his wife shall partake of his glory; yea, and his concubine and his dog. And their opinions shall be sought and prized above the judgements of Solomon. (Celebrities iii 9.)

  He that findeth old words for new teachings: he is the friend of merchants and the comforter of princes. (Adverbs i 1.)

  (1962)

  Frox ’n’ sox

  Theologians now believe that the wide variety of beliefs and practices observable among the different Christian churches must have derived originally from some common source – perhaps from some kind of gospel preached by an itinerant religious leader in the Middle East about two thousand years ago.

  What exactly was in this gospel it’s very hard to reconstruct. Not all churches, for example, seem to accept central tenets such as a belief in organised violence and the preservation of wealth and privilege. But scholars think they have located the one profound and passionate conviction that they almost all share – a horror of loud ties.

  They point to the remarkable unanimity with which the priests of almost every known Christian sect have avoided the wearing of ties of any sort – not only ones with a motif of lightly-clad women or favourite cartoon characters, but even simple stripes signifying membership of the Garrick Club or the Old Haileyburians. Indeed, in their efforts to avoid any temptation to wear unsuitable ties, priests of all denominations have tended to eschew even suits or jackets, at any rate on formal occasions. With striking singleness of mind they have elected to wear frocks.

  Scholars are insistent that at no point in the history of the church were frocks ever worn to show off the figure of the wearer, or to titillate in any way whatsoever. The original doctrine, they believe, must have made it clear that the frocks were to be full-length evening gowns, with no hint of décolletage, and no leg showing. Any suggestion of tightness over the hips or around the bosom was to be most sedulously avoided. Black seems to have been thought the safest colour, though brown, grey, and dark blue were evidently regarded as acceptable. Various shades of green have sometimes been tried by the adventurous, but considerable caution must have been recommended with lilac and puce. Red and purple, yes, possibly – but you had to be the kind of person who could carry it off.

  The choice of material was another area where discretion had to be exercised. Silk for a really special occasion could be lovely, perhaps with a tasteful embroidered stole thrown around the shoulders. But definitely no sequins, no lamé, no lurex, and nothing diaphanous. Jewellery – yes, certainly, why not, provided it was reasonably discreet. A nice gold chain, perhaps, with something dangly at the breast. A few chunky rings. Not earrings, though, and nothing in the nostril. A hat could be a definite plus – a little pill-box worn at a slightly cheeky angle was always thought to look smart, and you can’t really go wrong with a low crown and a broad brim. But no feathers and no veils!

  Up to this point the doctrine seems very straight-forward and commonsensical. There was another side to it, though, scholars have established, which is more mystical, and which has to be pieced together with
great delicacy and sensitivity to metaphysical nuance. This is the question of what was to be worn underneath the frocks.

  It was understood that some priests would wish to wear trousers under their skirts and that others would prefer not to. The choice was left entirely to the dress-sense of the individual priest, and his sensitivity to the climate in which he found himself. The crucial question related to socks. It was made plain that socks, if worn, should be thick, woollen, and reasonably short. They should be worn either sagging around the ankles, or supported by strongly-made brass and elastic suspenders somewhere about the mid-calf. They might be obtained from Marks and Spencer, or home-knitted by devoted relatives and parishioners. They were to be, in a word, male socks.

  Now it was always recognised by Christian doctrine that priests are not the only people in the world who wear frocks. There are others, superficially indistinguishable from priests, who can be told apart only because they wear not male socks under their frocks, but much longer, more exiguous pieces of hosiery often smooth and diaphanous in texture, and held up not by forthright brass and scarlet elastic around the calf, but by flimsy contraptions of straps and frills emanating from mysterious recesses of underwear which need not concern us here. People with arrangements of this sort under their frocks have therefore often been known as the weaker socks.

  The reference is purely to the lower tensile strength of the materials, and it must be stressed that the weaker socks have always been recognised as absolutely equal in the sight of God, who has no personal interest at all in people’s undergarments. Christians have never been encouraged to go round peering under other people’s frocks to see what they are wearing beneath. In fact the various churches have always tended to discourage any very close interest in this whole question. They have never been able to understand why people seem to think of nothing but socks, socks, socks.