Friday, December 15, 2006

What remains, however probable

“Our conclusion is that, on the evidence available at this time, there was no conspiracy to murder any of the occupants of the car,” Lord Stevens of Kirkwhelpington, who led the inquiry, told reporters as he presented his findings here. “This was a tragic accident.”
- The New York Times, Dec 14th

As a general rule, I never make fun of people's names, but Kirkwhelpington?? Kirkwhelpington?!! And I used to think Wodehouse was joking. A tragic accident indeed.

You have to feel kind of sorry for Lord Stevens. Not only does he get saddled with a name like that, he also gets the unenviable task of spending $ 7.3 million and the 832 pages [1] of his report stating the obvious. How Lord Stevens must have salivated at the prospect of actually finding something through his investigations. How he must have dreamed of unearthing some dread conspiracy, and going down in history as the man who brought down the monarchy, the man who took on MI 6, a sort of new age Thomas More, soon to be immortalised in the Oliver Stone production of A Man for the Four Seasons. Instead, he's going to have to go down in history as "another one of those Kirkwhelpingtons". Not a happy thought.

I still remember when Diana died. The media, as expected, outdid itself in foolishness; Elton John managed to resurrect his deservedly failing career by ripping off his own work, thus proving himself either the no-talent phony one has always suspected him of being, or a subversive master of comic irony; and my local barbershop renamed itself the "Lady Diena Hair Cutting Saloon" in a somewhat misguided attempt to cash in on largely non-existent popular sentiment.

Ah, the good old days.

[1] I have to admit I'm curious to know what the 832 pages consist of. How do you describe a terrible plot that never happened? Do you just rehash all the old Agatha Christie stories and then deny them? Pg. 641: "Diana could have been poisoned in her hotel room and a crash test dummy put in the car in her place, her body, suitably mangled, being swapped for that of the dummy's in the ambulance carrying her from the accident site. We are glad to report, however, that this never happened."


The Black Mamba said...

at $20* a word, the Lord better not be rehashing Agatha Christie plot. no sir.

* 440 words per page. (7.3 m/ 832 / 440).

Anonymous said...

"I have to admit I'm curious to know what the 832 pages consist of"

Hey if they made a movie about the people who never made it to the 9/11 flights, anything is possible.

Anonymous said...

After my London visit I am convinced the Brits are just plain weird.
And they still sell Diana postcards. You can find them right next to ones of Charles and Camilla.

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Anonymous said...

Bottom line: a drunk driver was driving over 60 mph in a 30 mph zone and crashed into a pillar. The drunk driver was a longtime employee of the Fayed family.  End of discussion. No assassin on a grassy knoll, no Prince Philip hit squad, no alien abductions.

The late Quentin Crisp spoke truthfully, if bluntly, that Princess Diana's fast and shallow lifestyle contributed to her own demise: "She could have been Queen of England -- and she was swanning about Paris.   What disgraceful behavior. Going about saying she wanted to be the queen of hearts. The vulgarity of it is so overpowering." (Atlanta Southern Voice, 1 July 1999).

Or to put it more kindly, both Diana and her brother, Charles Spencer, suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder caused by their mother's abandonning them as young children. (A google search reveals that Diana is considered a case study in BPD by mental health professionals).

For Charles Spencer, BPD meant insatiable sexual promiscuity (his wife was divorcing him at the time of Diana's death). For Diana, BPD meant  intense insecurity and an insatiable need for attention and affection (which even the best husband could never have fulfilled). These sowed the seeds of her fast lifestyle and her tragic fate.

Anonymous said...

"Lord, I have a problem!"
"What's the problem, Eve?"
"Lord, I know you've created me and have provided this beautiful garden and all of these wonderful animals and that hilarious comedy snake, but I'm just not happy."
"Why is that, Eve?" came the reply from above.
"Lord, I am lonely. And I'm sick to death of apples." "Well, Eve, in that case, I have a solution. I shall create a man for you."
"What's a 'man,' Lord?"
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"I can put up with that," says Eve, with an ironically raised eyebrow.
"Yeah well, he's better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick. But, there is one condition."
"What's that, Lord?"
"You'll have to let him believe that I made him first."
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