The Paradox
And there were two types of human bipedy type things. There was Neanderthals, and Homo sapiens. We were like cousins, like kissing cousins, except that we didn't kiss. Neanderthals, of course, the heavy eyebrow ridge...
"Uh..."
and that kind of:
"Uh... uohh... ohha"
You know, with that look of:
"I've got a headache... I feel so close... to extinction."
Very hardy, but not so bright upstairs. Homo sapiens, slightly more:
"How're you getting on there, Neanderthal? All going alright?"
"Not too good... yesterday... we went hunting... and... half our tribe... was killed... when they fell on themselves... and I've hurt my knee... and we've got no... butter."
"Yes, well always good talking to you! Must go, got some swatches of moss for the new cave we're moving into. A local chap's doing some paintings of... things, jumping things, I don't know, Gazelles, or whatever. Should look good, should fetch a pretty penny in a couple of years. Where are you living these days?"
"I am living in a pit of my own excrement."
"Ah, well, good idea, keeps you warm, yeah?"
"Uh, wha?"
"Well your poo keeps you warm, is that...?"
"Uh thi-th thi th?"
"Your poo, from your body, doesn't it keep you... body heat... is that the idea...?"
"Um no, hadn't thought of that... the estate agent said bathroom en-suite."
Back in Kansas, Binky is grumpy. He's stuck in a backpack, and hasn't had a drink in hours.
Who's Binky? I'm glad you asked...
Our story begins on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in London. mith and his girlfriend are spending one last day in town before flying back to the states. Their plan for the day consists of three things. First, they want to meet mith's flatmate for lunch. Third, they want to go to Regent's Park and relax.
In between? Well, in the next week or two they are going to Tennessee to visit mith's family and, while there, are going to head on to Nashville to visit a friend of the girlfriend's family. She has a tradition of bringing this friend food from wherever she happens to be, starting from her first visit when she made a run to a butcher's shop in Ohio. mith has already taken the girlfriend to Paris the previous week, and she has emailed the friend (who lived in Paris for a number of years) to say that she's sorry she hasn't gotten him anything from there, but that they are going to be stopping in southern Louisiana (to visit her family) on the trip and asks whether he has any requests. He replies that actually there's something he would love that they can get right there in London, which he is unable to get in Tennessee: Camembert au lait cru, which they should be able to get at any Marks and Spencer.
Unfortunately, this isn't the case. And so, after checking Marks and Spencer, they head to Boomslangers (a Thai place which is not actually called Boomslangers, but that's what they call it after a misunderstanding with mith's flatmate on the phone) without the flatmate (who isn't feeling well and doesn't want to eat anything, but suggests meeting for drinks after she gets off work).
After a delicious meal, they call the flatmate again to ask if anyone in the office knows of a cheese shop nearby. Someone suggests Covent Garden. And, having already been to Covent Garden twice previously just as everything was shutting down, they decide to visit it properly and look around for a cheese shop.
No luck. There's no cheese shop to be found. They stop in a Patisserie Valerie to ask if anyone knows where one is. No one does, but they do have a map showing all the shops in the area, color coded by type. Seeing that all the food and gift shops are clumped on the opposite side of Covent Garden, mith and girlfriend walk back across and weave in and out of all the streets, failing to find a cheese shop. Not giving up, they keep walking, now mostly at random. Eventually, they pass a wine shop.
"A wine shop! They'll know where the cheese shops are!"
And the girlfriend asks for help once again. One of them knows of a cheese shop at Seven Dials. Which is, of course, on the opposite side of Covent Garden.
A few weeks previously, mith went out with the flatmate and her friends to celebrate the flatmate's birthday. They ate at Boomslangers, then went to a Patisserie Valerie (a different one, in Soho), and finally ended up at a pub in Seven Dials. So, mith says that he knows where that is, and that they may as well just walk and see the sights.
Arriving without incident at the cheese shop (you didn't think I would get lost, did you?), the girlfriend approaches the counter and says:
"We would like to buy some lait cru Camembert."
(When telling this story later, the girlfriend gives the man a very posh British accent, which is more extreme than what he actually sounded like, but isn't too far off.)
"I'm sorry. This is a
British
cheese shop. We only sell
British
cheeses."
To be continued...
And so, it being "night" in the internal Mafia game, Eddie's fragmented subconcious took a nap. Some time later, most of it regained awareness.
"So... um... how is this even possible?"
The ten remaining pieces of Eddie gather around the prone form of... Eddie.
"If he's dead, shouldn't we all be dead? We're just parts of him, right?"
"You idiot, by pointing that out you've placed us on a surrealist ramble. We're now trapped. We're in Gibbs' paradox. We're in a self-defeating two-dimensional continuum. We can no longer justify our own existence."
And as he said that they began to melt, and their words faded to a delicate hanging cadence.
At least, that's what would have happened, if Bill Bailey were involved. Which is lucky for us, because he doesn't actually exist in this game, he's merely a narrative device, in order to help us on to the next bit.
ChannelDelibird (Eddie Izzard, Church of England) has been covered in bees! It is now Day 2. With 11 votes available, it will take 6 to lynch.
shold probally have looked at the roles
