No 3635 Set by John Crick
A contemporary J Swift visits Mono-mania. We asked for a description of the obsessions of its 21st-century inhabitants.
Report by Ms de Meaner
Hmm. Monomaniac or Monomanian? I left it to you. I was sorry to lose Ian Burchill ("Painting yellow and red lines on the roadways, according to a belief widely held, has a magical power to make the mo-tors move more quickly") and, sadly, football didn't make it. £15 to the winners; the vouchers go to Anne Du Croz.
A sign read: "Welcome to Monomania: State of Nature." The guard opened the gate in the briar-festooned palisade. He carried a shotgun and wore coarse tartan garb. "Our agriculture is sustainable, self-sufficient, pesticide-free and entirely organic," he said. I observed that it was also of the most primitive subsistence kind, and marvelled at the sad lack of anything approaching civilisation. Entire families were constantly occupied attaining food, clothing, warmth and shelter. Cattle manure, bonemeal and human waste were spread liberally upon the fields, and I learnt that outbreaks of disease were frequent. The birth rate was high, for "natural" family planning only was permitted. With a high infant death rate and lowered life expectancy, the population remains stable - Monomanians reject immunisation and orthodox medicine, allowing only herbal remedies and spiritual healing. The chief problems of the state were smuggling and attempted emigration. Criminals sold batteries and Nurofen on the streets of Poundbury; and caches of Walkmans and Coca-Cola had been discovered close to Checkpoint Charlie. A naturopath had set up in business, boiling willow leaves to produce a pain-relieving draught. He was doing well. Given five years, he would likely develop purified aspirin. I fear, and hope, the inevitable revolution will happen first.
Anne Du Croz
The Monomanians are singularly strange. Although they look and sound like human beings, their lives are lived, for the most part, in isolation. Not for them the comfort of family around them. Even after breeding, they part from their mates, securing their "own space". Children are packed off to nursery centres during the day and, by the age of 18, are driven off to live by themselves.
The compulsion to have unshared living space has led to a proliferation of tiny dwellings. Once-grand mansions are sectioned off into flats and bedsits, and minute terraced houses crowd the narrow streets, land being at a premium.
The city streets and intercity highways are similarly crowded. No one wants to share a vehicle with anyone else. Public transport is anathema. Hence driver-only cars creep along in a constant stream.
Phone boxes are obsolete, as everyone has their own phone, and strangely these people do want to communicate with each other, but only from a distance. Each has a computer screen where they work and play, even "conferencing" by video, but flesh-to-flesh encounters are rare. Just one thing is shared: the single thought of Monomania - "ME".
Katie Mallett
One day I was approached by a worried-looking person of quality, who plaintively inquired of me whether I had celebrated the year 2000, whether indeed it was an anniversary, or number, and whether the Sumerian calendar was not more proper. I had hardly ventured an opinion when a most remarkable Monomaniac, although weighed down with dejection, railed against all numerical systems, excepting his own. This he had devised by studying a multiplicity of manuals, and he explained the significance of his third number (of six), fourteen. This number he had devised by adding the sum of his birth date to that of his children and wife, before dividing by their combined weight, and ignoring any decimal point. The number had only to turn up upon a set of balls in concurrence with five others, and he would surely be rich. Another Mono-maniac, very grand yet very casual, a senior Minister, regaled me with statistics about employment trends, empty beds, lengths of waiting-lists and the numbers of children obtaining rudimentary qualifications. The combined weight of these figures had given his countenance a haunted look. For my part, I forswore all addition and subtraction whatsoever.
Will Bellenger
The island's name is Monomania, which means One Madness.
"It should be Duomania," I told Schlumboot, my guide, who looked bewildered.
"Double Madness," I explained. "All I have seen during my visit shows me that your inhabitants from highest to lowest are obsessed with following two opposed courses at once. All, from Royals downwards, swear to be faithful to their wives, yet can hardly wait to change them for others; your politicians daily announce one policy and adopt the opposite; your patriots do all they can to discredit their country; your judges sentence criminals to lengthy sentences, then announce they were mistaken; your police produce evidence to convict criminals to lengthy sentences, then announce they were mistaken; your police produce evidence to convict criminals which they later disown. Your athletes . . ."
Schlumboot winced. "It is better not to speak of our athletes," he said. "In any event, is this Great Britain of which you speak not similar?"
"With a fearless Press? And with an Established Church? Come now: how could this be possible?"
He still seemed curiously unconvinced.
Peter Lyon
No 3638 Set by John Crick
All employers get them: applications from people unsuited to the job. We want letters from famous people, historical or literary, seeking employment of an inappropriate kind. Max 200 words by 20 July.
E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by using the 'report this comment' facility or by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
