Part 10 (1/2)

'Clanky, I'd like to try something out: It's what us philosopher types call a ”thought experiment”.'

The mechanical man stopped for a moment. 'What kind of thought experiment?'

'Well, stop me if I'm barking up the wrong tree, but I'm a.s.suming this whole philosophical enterprise' he gestured at the volcano, and the bears and the oblivious crowned heads 'is something to do with trying to impress girls?'

'What makes you think that?' said Nietzsche. He sounded like he would have been blus.h.i.+ng, if tin could blush, which obviously it can't.32 'Oh, you know.' The Pirate Captain shrugged. 'There's the fixation with goblins and magic rings and that kind of thing, which is always a clue that there may be social issues involved. But more importantly, it's my firm belief that trying to impress women is ninety-nine per cent of the motivation for anything ever. Including, but not limited to, philosophising. For instance, you've got Marx here, with his ”don't let rich people turn orphans into glue” nonsense. That's obviously to make him look like good caring-husband material. Or take Plato,' the Captain went on, getting into his stride now, 'with the whole ”platonic love” thing, which anyone can see was just to get some nice Greek girl not to feel too threatened by him before he moved in on her with that ”oh, I've gone and spilt wine on your toga” trick. And Kant, he's another one, banging on about metaphysics, because it's floaty and a bit nebulous, like how ponies are.'

'It's an interesting theory,' agreed Nietzsche grudgingly.

'So what I propose is this: we have an actual lady here.' The Pirate Captain pointed at Jennifer, who waved. 'And what we do is play out a little scenario where you pretend you've just met her and explain your philosophy. Then we see how much she wants to be your girlfriend. Is that all right with you, Jennifer?'

'No problem,' said Jennifer.

'And if it turns out you're right, Clanky, then I promise you won't hear another peep out of any of us. I'll even help you feed me to the bears by showing off my thighs, which can only be described as succulent looking. Well?'

'Oh, go on then,' said Nietzsche.

'Right. So this is Jennifer. You've just met her in the park while feeding the ducks. You have to use your imagination. What are you going to say?'

'Erm . . . h.e.l.lo, Jennifer.'

'h.e.l.lo, Nietzsche.'

'These ducks are nice, aren't they?'

'Yes, they are. Lovely.'

'So, um, what music are you into?'

'I like a bit of everything, really,' said Jennifer.

'I hate almost all music, especially anything that's popular. I'm really into, you know, opera and stuff. You've probably never heard of most of it.'

'Probably not,' said Jennifer. 'I don't really follow music that closely. What brings you to the park today?'

'I'm here to think about things. I'm a philosopher.'

'Oh, really? How interesting. What's your philosophy?'

'I call it ”Fascism”. It's quite radical.'

'Is it something to do with faces?'

'Not exactly, although we fascists do prefer to see faces with moustaches on them, topped with a neat side parting.'

'I see.' Jennifer threw some imaginary bread to an imaginary duck.

'Yes and you know how most philosophers write everything down in big boring books? Well, I don't do that. In fact, I prefer burning books to reading them.'

'That's a bit drastic,' said Jennifer; 'you can learn some great things from books.'

'Perhaps, but it's my belief that people are basically stupid and any sort of knowledge at all will cause more harm than good.'

'So what are your main ideas?'

'Aphorisms are my big thing.'

'Aphorisms?'

'Sayings stuff like ”If a woman possesses manly virtues, one should run away from her; and if she does not possess them, she runs away from herself”.'

'OK. But that's not really proper philosophising, is it? It's more like what you'd find in a greetings card.'

'I also want more atrocities and stiffer hats.'

'It's got a bit cold in the park,' said Jennifer. 'I probably ought to be off.'

'That's the cold wind of destiny sweeping Europe, bringing about a glorious fascist future.'33 There was an awkward pause, broken only by the albino pirate doing a duck impression and quacking for more bread. Eventually, Nietzsche spoke up again. 'So will you go out with me? You have reasonable childbearing hips for breeding a healthy brood of fascist babies.'

'And . . . break,' said the Pirate Captain. 'Well then, Jennifer, what do you think? Should I be buying a new wedding hat?'

'I'm afraid not, Pirate Captain. What Nietzsche has forgotten is that we women don't tend to go in for authoritarian dogma. We prefer someone who is good company, can antic.i.p.ate our feelings and make us laugh from time to time.'

'And you, Clanky? How do you think that went?'

For a moment there was no reply. Marx, Engels and all the pirates held their breath.

'It's . . . erm . . . I realise now that what looked good on paper feels a bit silly when you say it out loud.'34 'You see? I'm not known for my metaphors, but if you ask me, this philosophy of yours would be like . . .' The Captain paused, and thought for a moment. '. . . like a dirty great boot stamping on the face of humanity for ever. And have you ever tried to make out with a pretty girl whilst a huge boot stamps on the pair of you for ever? It's not so easy.'

The big metal philosopher let out a sad little puff of steam. Then there was a hissing sound as a door in his chest popped open, and a pale young man with a drooping moustache clambered out from the mess of levers and wires and cams and spindles in which he had been sat. He climbed down from his contraption and sheepishly dusted a bit of oil from his coat.

'I think I've made a terrible mistake,' he said sadly.

'It's all right,' said the Pirate Captain. 'You're just a kid really. We all try to be slightly outrageous when we're your age. I got my first tattoo about that time.' He rolled up his sleeve and indicated a faded bluish picture of an angry adolescent pirate saying 'Parents just don't understand' on his left arm. 'I only did it to annoy them. With the benefit of hindsight I can appreciate that it's quite a naive sentiment.'

'I'm sorry about your pirates,' said Nietzsche, looking at the bits of squashed pirate that were littered across the stage. 'And the almost-having-you-eaten-by-angry-bears thing. You must think the worst of me.'

'Aarrrr. Don't worry,' said the Captain. 'If I've learnt one thing as a pirate, it's that wherever you go, from Chesterfield to Matlock, there are only two kinds of diabolical villain: there's the misunderstood kind who are doing it for the attention, and then there's the evil-to-the-core kind. Actually, I'm forgetting zombies. There are three kinds of villain: misunderstood ones who are doing it for the attention, evil-to-the-core types and zombies. And inscrutable foreigners as well. Four types-'

'Captain,' said Marx.

'Yes, sorry. Anyway, I look at you' the Captain patted Nietzsche on his head 'and I can tell you're one of the misunderstood types.'