There are times when writing the blog before the rest of the site goes live gets a bit tricky. There are times I want to make reference to things that aren’t online yet, or there are times I’m aware of the times I can’t make reference to things that aren’t online yet which will mean they’re out of date when things are online. This is one of those times. A bit of present/future simul-tense writing’s in order.
As many or none of you will know or come to know soon at some point in the future or recent past, one of the Butterflies (I’ll explain later) is on meddling (take my word for it). It says, said or will soon come to be saying that we have to get stuck in if we’re going to fix the million and one problems humans have come up with because being a bystander isn’t much use to anyone. (I think I pulled that off. Or I think I will come to be having had pulled it off.)
With that in mind, this week I meddled like a spinster with a net curtain, time on her hands and children she’s lost touch with. I heard raised voices outside but thought nothing of it because it’s not very unusual round here. Then I heard threats of violence but thought nothing of it because it’s not very unusual round here. Then I heard a car careering up the street in reverse but thought nothing of it because… Long story short, I saw a car getting beaten up by some twats with a wrench.
Perhaps this puts Zero Towers in a bad light. It makes my spacious headquarters sound more like a pokey wee flat above a pub, opposite another pub and below a knife factory in the crack den district of Scumsville. I assure you that’s not… That’s not, um… Hey screw you!
When the police came I went out for a chat. They said there would have been loads of witnesses but not many willing to talk so I told them what I saw, being sure to point around a lot to make sure onlookers could see me openly squealing out there on the street. That’s meddling! That’s getting stuck in! And not because I want a reward. Not because I have a strong sense of social justice. Not because I want to take back the streets from the violence that dirties them, but because apparently I want to get my face kicked in by twats who beat up cars with a wrench. Oh God, what did I do? It seemed fine at the time!
Right, calm down. Worst case, if they hear about it and come at me with a hammer I can move to Bel Air and churn out dreck in both rap and movie form.
In summary, meddling: the most morally superior form of stupidity we have.