Wednesday, March 04, 2009

The other day I had one of those irritating experiences where some other entity is credited it with an idea of my own or that of my friends. Public credit for one's ideas isn't a terribly big deal I suppose, but the more mis-crediting that goes on in print and on the web sort of makes me look like a liar on my increasingly feeble-looking CV. 

Some ideas I've had are very silly and therefore don't require me to claim them because they wouldn't in the the least help me to find work. But for edification and historical accuracy I will start documenting them here.

The Seduction of the Saucy Scrabble Player

My friend - let us call him Mr X - and I went away to the country for New Years' weekend with a group of friends and friends of friends. In a rented house we drank, ate and played a good deal of the Scrabble (for people under 25, Scrabble is the board game that Facebook's “Scrabulous” is based on). 

One young woman was particularly successful at the Scrabble board, having been brought up in a keen Scrabble-playing family where two-letter words had been memorised as readily as hot dinners consumed.
On the last night of the holiday Mr X accidentally found himself having sex with this woman after downing a bottle of New Year's champagne. The next day we all went back to our homes in Melbourne but my friend was smitten by this new female acquaintance and he decided that he'd have to contrive some cunning way to get to see her again. Of course, loyal friend that I am, I was only too happy to apply myself to the task. 

In these situations I take my inspiration from Jeeves, the large-brained gentleman's gentleman and logistical genius, the creation for which the comic writer P. G. Wodehouse was best known. Jeeves could invariably be relied upon to devise clever strategies by which his master might negotiate delicate personal matters.

Jeeves' strategies were based on a study of what he called “the psychology of the individual”. In my case the individual in question – let us call her “Angelica” - was an intelligent young woman with an undeniable penchant for Scrabble.

Based on this scant knowledge I decided upon the following plan of action, which my friend, Mr X, enacted:

Through a mutual friend, my friend obtained Angelica's postal address. Then every day for a period of eight days he sent her an anonymous postcard. Each postcard was cream-coloured and square-shaped with rounded corners. On the reverse side a stamp was affixed and nothing was written there except the young lady's name and address. The front of each card bore a large upper-case letter in the centre, and a smaller numeral in the bottom right-hand corner.

They were posted in this order in these alpha-numeric combinations:

L2, A3, I2, C6, N4, E1, A9, G8

The eighth postcard to arrive on the eighth day was the exception to the rest, bearing a short message on the reverse side where one is normally supposed to write nonsense such as “wish you were here” and the like. Mr X. simply wrote “call me”.

And on the ninth day she worked it out and called him.

We never let on that it wasn't Mr X's idea.

2 Comments:

At 12:49 am, Blogger The Rantolotl said...

That is indeed a good idea.

 
At 9:18 am, Blogger Mixin said...

Hey Kipper
I have been trying to find a way to contact you. Your a rather elusive lady. Im a documentary film maker and would like to talk with you re the Serious Games initiative.
you can contact me on matulick@gmail.com
ta
Apologies for polluting your blog with such trivialities

 

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