Trollied Tuesday: Grappling With the Monster
IN THE MONSTER’S CLUTCHES
Body and Brain on Fire
One of the wonderful things about the iPhone is that - thanks to this little bit of software - reading Gutenberg e-books suddenly becomes a pleasant experience. I hate reading big blocks of text on a computer screen (well, I hate doing it for fun), but I’m more than happy to curl up in bed with the phone and devour stuff like 1984, Huckleberry Finn, lashings of Wodehouse and more.
Suddenly, lots of esoteric stuff is within my reach. One day I find the Sinks of London Laid Open. The next I’ll stumble on The Lunatic at Large. But the book that I’m presently drinking to is the splendidly named
GRAPPLING WITH THE MONSTER
OR
THE CURSE AND THE CURE OF STRONG DRINK
BY
T.S. ARTHUR
It’s here and it’s cracking stuff. The words are pretty good. Take this for a start.
Dr. John Nugent gives a case which came within his own knowledge, of a lady who had been
A MOST EXEMPLARY NUN
for fifteen or twenty years. In consequence of her devotion to the poor, attending them in fevers, and like cases, it seemed necessary for her to take stimulants; these stimulants grew to be habitual, and she had been compelled, five or six times, to place herself in a private asylum. In three or four weeks after being let out, she would relapse, although she was believed to be under the strongest influences of religion, and of the most virtuous desires.
I’ve always said a whisky and splash induces a sort of heavenly contentment. Then there’s this, which seems to undermine the temperance argument just that little bit more:
His case was immediately taken in hand and money raised to send him to the State Inebriate Asylum. After he had remained there for a year, he began to preach as a supply in a church a few miles distant, going on Saturday evening and returning on Monday morning; but always having an attendant with him, not daring to trust himself alone. This went on for nearly a whole year, when a revival sprang up in the church, which he conducted with great eloquence and fervor. After the second week of this new excitement, he began to lock himself up in his room after returning from the service, and could not be seen until the next morning. In the third week of the revival, the excitement of the meetings grew intense. After this he was only seen in the pulpit, where his air and manner were wild and thrilling. His friends at the asylum knew that he must be drinking, and while hesitating as to their wisest course, waited anxiously for the result. One day he was grandly eloquent. Such power in the pulpit had never been witnessed there before—his appeals were unequalled; but so wild and impassioned that some began to fear for his reason. At the close of this day’s services, the chaplain of the institution of which he was an inmate, returned with him to the asylum, and on the way, told him frankly that he was deceiving the people—that his eloquent appeals came not from the power of the Holy Spirit, but from the excitement of drink; and that all farther conduct of the meetings must be left in other hands. On reaching the asylum he retired, greatly agitated, and soon after died from a stroke of apoplexy. In his room many empty bottles, which had contained brandy, were found; but the people outside remained in ignorance of the true cause of the marvelous eloquence which had so charmed and moved them.
As for choosing your company carefully, this spot of advice holds true today:
Politics, military organizations, etc.—Many a man has been made a drunkard by the war, or by becoming an active politician. Associations of men leading to excitement of any kind stimulate them to invite each other to drink as a social custom. Former inebriates should avoid all forms of excitement. Said a former politician, who has not drank for five years: “If I was to go back to politics, and allow matters to take their natural course, I should soon drift again into drunkenness.”
But it’s the pictures that really make Grappling With The Monster such a delight. Who could resist a sight like this?
Or this?
But I’ll leave you with this final bit of wisdom, which will no doubt appeal to journalist Dornan, the man behind Trollied Tuesday:
CASE NO. 2. A clergyman of fortune, position and education lost his daughter, and began to drink in order to drown his sorrow. It was in vain that his wife and friends opposed, remonstrated, implored and persuaded; he drank on, the appetite steadily increasing, until he became its slave. His congregation dismissed him; his wife died of a broken heart; he squandered his fortune; lost his friends, and, at last, became a street reporter for some of the New York papers, through means of which he picked up a scanty living.
What a horrible fate to befall a man.
Published on 30th September, 2008
Quote of the day
“Roger sent me this astonishing 1907 clip of a dancing gentleman pig and girl. It manages to fuse in one brief flurry my vintage porn collection with my nightmares, which in turn are indistinguishable from any other kind of dream.” (Infinite Thought)
Both the comment and clip are superb.
Published on 30th September, 2008
His last words were…
The end of Gordon Brown’s speech:
You know, in the museum in Rwanda which commemorates the millions who lost their lives as the world looked the other way, there is a picture of a young boy called David - a ten year old who was tortured to death. His last words were ÃÆâ€â„¢ÃƒÆ’ƒâ€ â€Ã¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¾¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’†âââہ¡¬ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â€š¬Ã…¾¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢ÃƒÆ’Æ’¢ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â€š¬Ã…¡¬ âââ€Ã…¡¬ÃƒÆ’Æ’¢ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¡¬Ãƒâ€¦¾¢¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢ÃƒÆ’ƒâ€ â€Ã¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¾¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’†âââہ¡¬ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â€š¬Ã…¾¢¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢ÃƒÆ’ƒâ€ â€Ã¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¾¢¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’¢ÃƒÆ’Æ’¢ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¡¬Ãƒâ€¦¡¬ÃƒÆ’ƒâ€¦¡¬ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢ÃƒÆ’Æ’¢ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â€š¬Ã…¡¬¦¡¬ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢ÃƒÆ’ƒâ€ â€Ã¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¾¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’†âââہ¡¬ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â€š¬Ã…¾¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’¢ÃƒÆ’Æ’¢ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â€š¬Ã…¡¬ÃƒÆ’…¡¬¹ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’Æâ€â„¢ÃƒÆ’ƒâ€ â€Ã¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¾¢ÃƒÆ’ƒÆ’¢ÃƒÆ’Æ’¢ÃƒÆ’¢Ãƒ¢Ã¢â‚¬Å¡¬Ãƒâ€¦¡¬¦ÃƒÆ’Æ’Ã
From here.
Hat tip, Dizzy.
Published on 23rd September, 2008
J.K. Fucking Rowling
The best analysis to date on Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling’s £1m donation to the Labour Party definitely comes from Scott Pack:
Gordon Brown has welcomed the donation and proclaimed Rowling ‘one of the world’s greatest ever authors’.
Move aside Homer, Shakespeare, Austen, Dickens, Virgil, Dostoyevsky, the Brontes, Fitzgerald, Hardy, Chaucer and [insert your favourite here] - JK Rowling has surpassed you all.
Most popular I would probably grant her, but greatest ever?
I would politely suggest that the Prime Minister’s literary judgement has been clouded somewhat by the huge fucking cheque he has just received from the author. I presume Jeffrey Archer has thrown loads of money at the Conservative Party over the years but I am pretty sure no one there has ever made such high claims about him. Quite sensible really, what with him being a bit shit.
In other news, I’m reading this at the moment. Highly recommended.
Published on 20th September, 2008
Train rip off
I’m on a train from St Pancras to Wellingborough. Fifty minutes each way. Just how can any train company justify £63.50 for the return trip? I used to travel to Scotland for a lot less.
End of whinge.
Published on 17th September, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: Comte Robert de Montesquiou
A shame he no longer graces the cover (back to front) of the Penguin A Rebours, but you will find none more elegantly dressed than Comte Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac.
The dandy’s dandy, these photos are a particular delight.
Published on 16th September, 2008
If your 3G iPhone won’t connect to 3G…
…then the chances are that the O2 shop in which you upgraded won’t have told you that you need a 3G SIM card. They’re now posting me one.
It’s only taken me a month to work it out, after waiting patiently for Apple to fix a few issues.
On the plus side, it only took me a fortnight to realise my contract tariff hadn’t been changed by O2 either, exposing me to potentially huge phone bills for heavy data usage. They kindly fixed that, though were then at a loss about my other problem. One at a time, I told myself.
I’m now wondering how long it’ll take ‘em to realise that my 18 month contract - according to my online account - runs out six months early. I might just hold them to that…
Gripes aside, it is marvellous to - finally - own a phone that syncs with my calendar, and my email, and everything else, with the minimum of hassle. And, hats off to the O2 customer support people I spoke to today - they were, honestly, great.
Memo to self: next time, stick to buying phones online.
UPDATE: New SIM card arrived the next day, although I’d expected to wait 3-5 days. A quick phone call and the new card was activated. It began working immediately. Great service - if only O2 could replicate it across the board.
Published on 15th September, 2008
Is £30k a fair wage for a bus driver?
I may be soured by waiting over half an hour for a non-existent Number 67 bus, but I think drivers striking for a £30k pay deal are simply greedy.
A newly qualified teacher in London gets £25k, and will probably have between three and five student loans to pay off. And they don’t have the good fortune of being behind a toughened perspex screen when the customers get violent.
I know who I think deserves more.
Published on 13th September, 2008
Hackney Today Self Realisation Shocker
Most of you will have no doubt about my views on Hackney Today, our local council propaganda sheet. However, this week, its headline writer appears to have broken loose with this shaft of wit/ cocked up massively [delete as appropriate].
I just glanced at my copy, which I found as I left my flat 30 minutes ago. Writ large on the front page is a succinct and massive headline:
JUST BIN IT
Such sound advice. World class, even. It’ll be even funnier if it turns out to be a piece on recycling. I’ll show you a copy when I get back to my desk.
UPDATE: I’m back at my desk. Here’s the front page. On closer inspection, the proximity of “Just Bin It” next to the story about the Olympics (which won’t benefit locals) is rather prescient too.
Published on 10th September, 2008
Comment te dire… surely not?
Sometimes YouTube clips are too jaw-dropping not to share.
Here’s Jimmy Somerville doing Serge Gainsbourg’s Comment Te Dire Adieu.
Published on 10th September, 2008