Stink Theory

Just yesterday evening on the electric wireless, there was a short piece about TCM the scientists and another of their invaluable experiments. I will list the points made.

·         They were conducting experiments on mice in order to research pain
·         The mice did not show behaviour consistent with experiencing pain
·         They (the experimenters, not the experimentees, ffs) deduced that the mice’s reaction was due to their showing signs of stress which somehow alleviated the pain
·         This stress disappeared when the experimenters left the room
·         They then discovered that the stress was only present when the mice were being handled by men; when women were present it had no effect
·         They discovered that the scent of men is similar to the scent of male mice and this was influencing the mice
·         They proved this by asking the men to leave behind their sweaty t-shirts and leave the room – the mice were stressed by the smell of male human clothing
·         This experiment was conducted in Canada

Here are some of my observations on this little story

·         After 14 billion + years of this universe expanding, the most intelligent life form known in these parts has still not evolved beyond the stage of finding it necessary to torture rodents.
·         Don’t we already know that observers affect the outcome – innit called the Observer Paradox or summat?
·         If the smell of the human male has such an acute effect upon the scientific method, it supports my theory that all of the science I learned in school is flawed, if not complete balderdash. All of the experiments I observed during the 5 painful years I was forced to learn chemistry, physics and biology were conducted in the presence of a roomful of adolescents. For most of the time I was too shy to get close enough to the girls to find out whether they smelt unpleasant, but I can testify that the boys were beyond disgusting and this has been my experience of adolescent males ever since; they stink. The little belief I had before in magnetic north and south poles, the reflexes of frogs and Avogadro’s hypothesis and all other guff has now dissipated, and I confess to feeling strangely liberated. Those particles whizzing round the corridors at Cern are motivated only by the need to get away from the disgusting odour of physicists. We shall learn nothing about the nature of existence by meddling with it.
·         If the human armpit smells like a mouse armpit, then there is probably a market out there for rodent deodorant.
·         If you are unfortunate enough to be admitted to hospital and require an operation make sure that you request that the anaesthesiologist has appalling personal hygiene.
·         The sight of the experimenters removing their shirts would probably cause most sentient mice more stress than the smell of their sweat.
·         Canadians are not as friendly as they would have us believe
·         Science or religion – which one is more crazy? Buggered if I can decide.

I can tell you what the papers say, but am buggered if I can think of a reason why they are saying it.

I thought that I would begin my day by checking the Torygraph. As ever it provides a treasure trove of insightful material, guaranteed to improve the mind.

“Treasury minister: I will fight against HS2 rail project”. Ms Andrea Leadsom (who she? Ed.) is promising to tie herself to the railway line in protest. Good for her;  I am off to buy some rope, and persuade some of her colleagues to join her. 

I have already mentioned on facebook (who he? Ed.) this sad tale which I originally found elsewhere:

There is an article in the Indescribable today about a Tibetan monk who left his laptop on a train after having his photograph taken with Bozza. It claims that he is upset about losing years of research stored on it (the laptop - not the train or the photograph, do keep up). I suspect that he will be even more distraught when he comes face to face with Lord Yama who will tell him that he will be reincarnated as a slug for associating with slimeballs in this life. The path to liberation is strewn with distractions, and I, for one, will not be tempted, which is why I turn down the more lurid requests from some of you. 

“William Wordsworth would be in 'fits' about planning reforms, says Sir Andrew Motion”. I wish that old Bill had been a political campaigner, rather than taking to his chalk and slate with the result that we were meant to study his utterances on damp October afternoons instead of being out losing our virginity behind the gym. Verbose old bugger. “Intimations of Immortality” my arse. In “The Solitary Reaper” Wordsworth describes the singing of a young lady, presumably she is singing in Gaelic as he wonders about the subject of her song. Well, Bill, she was actually chanting a warning to other local girls about a dodgy looking voyeur and potential pervert.

Mary Berry (who she? Ed) is campaigning against overcooked omelettes. I am sure you all share her outrage. There are cynics who would say that the established media have not only scraped the bottom of the barrel when it comes to suitable subject matter, but have removed 28 feet of topsoil beneath it. I have long eschewed the practice of digesting poultry periods, so her remonstrations will not attract my support, but let us all be grateful that she has found a cause that will add meaning to her life. 

They also report that “Gemma Chan, the Sherlock actress, says she hopes Arsenal will win the FA Cup after the injuries the team have suffered.” Gemma (who she? Ed) should be applauded for sharing this opinion with us all, and we should not be conflicted if it turns out that President Ivan Gašparovič of Slovakia will be rooting for Hull.

Finally, there is a long article about gifts being given to prince George by the happy Antipodeans. They are wasting their time – I haven’t even had a thank you note for the dog castrating kit that I sent him for the christening. I know Bill is too dumb to write, but Kathy is capable of wielding a crayon if there is a footman available to hold the paper still, ffs.