I
am told by the running dogs of fascism that I need to alter my clocks tonight.
It is truly a sign of the age of darkness in which we reside that we still
adhere to these arcane practices that are more fitting to mythology and
superstition than an advanced technological society. In ancient times, when my
ancestors were too poor to possess timepieces, the process was quite
straightforward involving as it did moving the little hand on the clock a short
distance. These days we are beset with more complexities. I have two battery
operated clocks that I can manage quite well, being of the generation where we
learnt important life skills at school, such as telling the time, reciting the
Lord’s prayer and dying of whooping cough.
I
have a wristwatch that cost me nearly £20 – the previous, cheaper version had a
plastic strap which broke and so I, embracing the frivolity of the zeitgeist,
splashed out on one with an unbreakable strap. My watch has 4 buttons on the
side. If I press them in the wrong combination it ceases to be a watch but
tells me the temperature in Samarkand, predicts (incorrectly) the winner of the
3:30 at Exeter and changes the base language to Arawakan.
If
I want to change the time on the various mains powered alarm clocks around the
house I have to press a button that increments the time an hour at a time such
that even the most docile of souls will become bored and press the button so
many times that it goes past its desired destination and round the whole 24
hours. Several bleeding times.
To
alter the time on my central heating control I have to contort myself into the
airing cupboard armed with a torch.
In
my motor vehicle I have to press a combination of buttons that I can never
remember to adjust the time. What I can remember is that if I want to find the
instructions in the manual it will take so long that I need not bother as it
will be time to move the sodding clocks forwards or backwards again.
If
I want to set the time on the digital clock on the cooker (I don’t) that
involves a combination of four buttons, some of which have to be held down
simultaneously. If I get that combination wrong it means that the cooker will
be set to come on for 26 hours starting in the middle of the night, or will
send a message to the National Grid converting the frequency to 384 Hz and
setting fire to an intimate electronic device owned by a lady in Cumbernauld.
So
bollocks to it all. Which steaming twat decrees that we need to adjust the
time? Sod off. Which prize imbecile called it “Daylight Saving Time”? Even I,
with my natural antipathy to the perverted cult of science can see that this is
clearly impossible. Sometimes things are just better left as they are.
Now,
does any bugger know what time it is?
