It's said that mankind took his biggest step away from the beasts of the jungle when he invented the wheel. That certainly is true, look how he progressed with the sophisticated adaptions he fitted to the original bent bit of green branch he bowled round his cave. He found he could chop invading Romans to little pieces by fixing dirty Great knives to it, blast others of his kind to mincemeat by sticking a bigger gun than he could carry in his hands on top of two of them, and by the simple operation of putting an engine on any number from four upwards, could successfully move fast enough to reduce to a gory pulp, any of his ilk who were unfortunate enough to get in his way, himself included.
Yes, homo sapiens certainly got off his haunches when inventing the wheel, and all God's creatures, great and small, must have been laughing their heads off ever since.
However, I think he surpassed himself with another little gimmick, which he must have dreamt up when in one of his most destructive moods - the door knocker
And it's subsequent development, the door chimes and other weird noises that occur when the button is pressed outside. One bloke I knew, has a contrivance that makes a sound something like a cat being castrated without sedation during an air raid warning and in answer to my quavering inquiry of what the hell it was when he answered the door, he proudly stated that it was different wasn't it? I noticed he was a bit green about the gills and guessed he had not adjusted as yet.
But the real evil of the door knocker is what it invites, and that is the door callers. These are something that are shared by everyone with the possible exception of people who live in tents, for the simple reason that old homo sapiens ain't yet been able to fit a knocker on a tent.
The trouble is that you never know who or what you are going to find when you answer the knock or ring at your door, unless it's someone you expect, the milkman, baker or postman, or any of the usual tradesmen. It can be any of the multitude of various pests that everybody is plagued by at some time or other, and it's this uncertainty that makes each member of the family present, look at each other and say "door".
Average people have very little consumer resistance and are liable to come back indoors with a programme for a church fete, a dozen clothes pegs or a copy of the 'Watchtower' and a feeble grin, saying "I just bought it to get rid of them". Trouble is, getting rid of them can work out pretty expensive if the vendor is flogging a set of encyclopedia and we have all met this social cancer who has had the stereotyped training designed to overcome any sign of customer resistance, and whose intentions which are supposed to be unknown until he has you feeding him tea and biscuits in the kitchen, are as unobtrusive as a boil on your nose, the minute he says he's doing a survey of the district and would you answer a few questions.
Sometimes you can get away with it cheaply enough if, you are like me, and have a degree of peasant cunning bolstering up your indecisive nature, as for example, with the insurance men who always come in pairs to examine your policies.
These bods seem to be about seven feet tall, as they tower over you in the corner of the lounge, where they have you trapped and they have convinced you that what you cannot live without is an insurance against catching continental tummy when you've already booked for a week in the Isle of Wight. You don't stand a chance, so I always agree, sign the form, send them on their way happily working out the commission on their sale, and cancel the policy by post the following day. No good doing it by phone, as you only get talked into something else. If you've had to pay the first premium, well, it's usually only a couple of bob, so it's worth it to get rid of them.
Other knocker salesmen who are not so easily to fob off, unless you have the nature that can look these pests in the eye, and say "sod off" are the Kleen-eezy brush men, and of course, the family portrait men, the never-never bloke, the Avon lady, the bird who wants to have a tupperware party on your new carpet, Jehovah's witnesses, the females who try to flog you lucky heather which is usually picked off the heap of sewerage they have been sorting over with the unwashed claw that now proffers it, the 'Fair prices given' Steptoes who leave a card to say when they'll be belting the hell out of your knocker, to do you a favour by giving you a quid for any old masters you happen to have laying about, and the vast army of Xmas box collectors who mostly deserve it, but anyway they've got you by the short and curlys because if you don't cough up you know that you're going to get a trail of rubbish up you're path, or the papers are left out in the rain next year.
All people who can get at your purse and intrude into the privacy, through the door knocker. Most of us finish up with a bottom drawer full of flue brushes, "You seem to have overlooked the last three instalments on your Welsh dresser" reminder cards, and gypsies curses. All because some prehistoric Edison invented the damn thing.
 |
| You see a door knocker ? Me neither. |
It would be interesting to have a list of white elephants bought by folk at the door and my contribution would be an Indian blouse I bought one night from a large gent who loomed over me when I opened the door, and swept away my defences with a gleaming smile, an assurance that I had a kind face and an Origami trick with a piece of paper he produced with a flourish from a large tattered case which lay opened on the path at his feet. Then followed a display of Oriental finery which gave me the feeling that my life would be dull and devoid of any colour, should I not acquire some portion of it, so I bought this blouse for my wife, who agreed that it was indeed beautiful, then carefully packed it away in our bottom drawer of white elephants. He left me with the request that I favour him by not giving it to my wife that night as he wanted to pray for me before I did as he was so overwhelmed by my kindness, and he wished to offer a prayer for my future well-being.
I hope he did and also a prayer for the rest of the sufferers of one of the most diabolical inventions of H. Sapiens.
No comments:
Post a Comment