'Elementary: The Continuing Life of Sherlock Holmes' - An essay

It is certainly odd to think what the history of crime investigation would have been like if, on that fateful day in 1881, Doctor John H. Watson, M.D., Late of the Army Medical Department, had not bumped into his old colleague Stamford, and had not subsequently been introduced to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only unofficial consulting detective. Indeed, if these events had not happened, where would detective fiction be now, without even the humble magnifying glass ever having been used as an investigative tool? Where would forensic science be, had the ‘Sherlock Holmes Test’ of searching for otherwise-invisible blood particles not been developed? Where would we be now if the terrible war which had almost occurred during the events chronicled by Watson under the title ‘The Adventure of the Second Stain’ had not been avoided? Where, oh where, would the world itself be if these events had never happened?

Well, the shocking truth is, these things never happened. Sherlock Holmes is a fictional creation which burst from the depths of the mind of a struggling 27-year-old doctor in a story entitled A Study in Scarlet, first published in Beeton’s Christmas Annual during the November of 1887. The original story made very little impact, but a second novel, The Sign of Four, was published in the February 1890 edition of Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, with two further novels and fifty-six short stories appearing in The Strand Magazine between 1891 and 1927 (with an infamous hiatus between 1893 and 1901). With this in mind, it seems incredible that this character appears to have transgressed the boundaries set by his creator to become a figure almost with a life of his own. Despite him so obviously being fictional, there is still a part within all of us interested in Holmes which believes him to be real. Statements such as ‘I wish I could have met him’ and ‘he was the greatest detective of all time’ float out of the mouths of people fully aware of his fictional nature, and yet we still half-believe what we are saying: that Sherlock Holmes was a real, living, breathing man, who kept his tobacco in a Persian slipper and occasionally made use of cocaine to stimulate his great mind during lengthy periods of idleness.

So what is it about the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that seems so real? It isn’t as though the stories explored exclusively-realistic themes – how, for example, could Holmes have been employed by the King of Bohemia in ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’ when there was no such position at the time (the Kingdom of Bohemia was at the time of writing owned by the House of Habsburg and had no monarchy)? The continuity, also, is particularly unbelievable - Watson, after claiming to have been shot in the shoulder in A Study in Scarlet, changes his story to the injury being in his leg from The Sign of Four onwards; after claiming never to have heard of Moriarty before ‘The Final Problem’, he readily identifies him in the prequel The Valley of Fear; similarly, in ‘The Final Problem’, Moriarty’s brother’s first name is said to be James, and yet this is identified as Moriarty’s name in every story thereafter; it is impossible for Watson to still be living with Holmes in The Hound of the Baskervilles, set in 1889, as he got married to Mary Morstan at the end of The Sign of Four, set in 1887, and she did not die until sometime between ‘The Final Problem’ (set in 1891) and ‘The Adventure of the Empty House’ (set in 1894) – the list of discontinuities and errors in Doyle’s work could go on and on. But the fact is that is simply does not matter – a reader could spend forever trying to explain away the problems in the ongoing narrative, but it would not make any difference to a fantastic body of works. And so, the question remains, just what is so special about Holmes that he is still being read, adapted, talked about and watched today, in 2012, one hundred and twenty five years after his initial appearance in print?

The answer is simple: Sherlock Holmes is such a brilliant creation. What’s not to like about a man with such incredibly powerful deductive powers that he could tell you everything about yourself within a few moments of seeing you for the first time? The man would be incredibly annoying to meet, after all (certainly spending a day with him would be more of a chore than a holiday with Louis Spence), but his brilliance would still be undeniable. People want him to be real – he is such a fantastic portrayal of the potential intellectual powers of a human being that, were he to have existed, nothing could be more amazing.

Despite the fact that Holmes has frequently been identified as the worst kind of depressive he could be (constantly requiring mental stimulation or risking falling into a deep, dark melancholy which can only be survived through occasional cocaine abuse), is frequently horrendously rude to the few friends he has (he tells Watson in ‘The Adventure of the Dying Detective’ that he is ‘only a general practitioner with very limited experience and mediocre qualifications’ and gives frequent backhanded compliments to Inspector Lestrade) and is unable to see anything beyond what is relevant to his own ego ('His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary literature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know nothing' - A Study in Scarlet), everyone has a soft spot for the character. He certainly isn’t all bad – he does show genuine compassion on numerous occasions; he spares several criminals across his career if he sees their crimes to be the result of understandably grave experiences or situations; he even treats a group of street urchins (The Baker Street Irregulars), neglected and looked down upon by society and downright hated by landlady Mrs Hudson, as equals, incredibly useful in solving several of his cases. If he is arrogant and self-proud about it (‘The air of London is the sweeter for my presence. In over a thousand cases I am not aware that I have ever used my powers on the wrong side’ – ‘The Final Problem’) then he certainly has earned the right.

And yet, Conan Doyle hated Holmes, or so it has been reported. In the preface to the final short story collection, The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes (published in 1927 and made up of the stories to have appeared in The Strand between 1921 and 1927) Doyle stressed his belief that ‘he may perhaps have stood a little in the way of [his] more serious literary work.’ But then again, perhaps for Doyle to judge Holmes as anything other than ‘serious literary work’ is a little harsh: after all, today there is both a blockbuster movie series and a hugely successful modern-day reimagining of the series being fed to the public almost simultaneously, and who has ever heard of Doyle’s other works, such as The Tragedy of the Korosko or The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard, or of his historical works, such as Micah Clarke? Furthermore, I am quite certain very few people know The Lost World was a novel by Doyle before it became the basis for Michael Crichton’s 1995 novel of the same name (which in turn was adapted into the second movie in the Jurassic Park series).

Conan Doyle’s feelings towards Holmes could not have been so strong so as to reject him entirely, after all. In 1927 – the same year as the Casebook was released – Conan Doyle drew up a list of his own twelve favourite Holmes short stories, reproduced faithfully here:

1.       The Adventure of the Speckled Band (The Adventures)

2.       The Adventure of the Red-Headed League (The Adventures)

3.       The Adventure of the Dancing Men (The Return)

4.       The Final Problem (The Memoirs)

5.       A Scandal in Bohemia (The Adventures)

6.       The Adventure of the Empty House (The Return)

7.       The Five Orange Pips (The Memoirs)

8.       The Adventure of the Second Stain (The Return)

9.       The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot (His Last Bow)

10.   The Adventure of the Priory School (The Return)

11.   The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual (The Memoirs)

12.   The Adventure of the Reigate Squires (The Memoirs)

I have to say, in many ways I whole-heartedly disagree with this hierarchy. Conan Doyle was the hardest critic of the stories, which may explain why, to my mind, he has outright neglected to include some of the best stories he ever wrote in this list, and also why he has elevated some of the duller narratives to such a high status. It is also clear that he has completely ignored the Casebook, despite the fact that some of these stories are unique in every way. Personally, I have never been particularly enamoured with ‘The Priory School’, and the plot of ‘The Reigate Squires’, despite my having read the stories several times, has almost entirely failed to be retained within my memory. Therefore, it seems right that I should be permitted to suggest my own list of twelve, which would come as follows:

1.       The Adventure of the Dancing Men (The Return)

2.       The Adventure of the Second Stain (The Return)

3.       The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans (His Last Bow)

4.       The Final Problem (The Memoirs)

5.       The Adventure of the Dying Detective (His Last Bow)

6.       The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton (The Return)

7.       The Problem of Thor Bridge (The Casebook)

8.       A Scandal in Bohemia (The Adventures)

9.       The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter (The Memoirs)

10.   The Adventure of the Speckled Band (The Adventures)

11.   The Adventure of the Five Orange Pips (The Memoirs)

12.   The Adventure of the Six Napoleons (The Return)

Speaking from a fan perspective, it is clear that my preferences come from entertainment value rather than whether the stories themselves are of any real literary ‘worth’. You will notice how I have managed to squeeze in one particularly outstanding story from the Casebook and how the Return certainly comes out on top with four contributions, whereas Doyle tied the Memoirs and Return together with four apiece. As a considerably darker, racier collection, I still maintain that the Return is superior, but who am I to judge Conan Doyle’s own preference. The fact that I took the time to compile my own list shows the fondness I clearly hold for this writer and his greatest creation.

The fact is that, yes, regarding the immense number of continuity errors, the character and his world are incredibly unbelievable; and yet, oddly, it is this fact which, conversely, makes it all so believable: we want him to exist – we want such an amazing human being to be possible, because we ourselves want to believe it is possible to raise a human being to such great intellectual heights. Conan Doyle was a flawed writer – he altered his continuity to suit his newer stories; he allowed himself to live in the shadow of a fictional individual he created; he became unable to rid himself of him. But he never truly wanted to do so, in my belief. Look at the evidence – at the end of ‘The Final Problem’, he makes it as clear as he possibly can that there was no body to be found, and if there is no body, he could always resurrect Holmes, should he so desire. Similarly, despite his assertion that The Return was to be the final Holmes collection before the character retired, he could not help but write another collection of reminiscences from earlier in his career – the first ending with a defiant farewell, ‘His Last Bow’, subtitled as ‘An Epilogue to Sherlock Holmes’. And yet he still could not eliminate him – although clearly tired of Holmes by the time the stories in the Casebook were published, he still showed no sign of giving up – during this period, Doyle’s experimental side is at its best: here, we see him doing things he had never done before: Holmes narrates two stories, there is a story in the third person, and the themes explored include vampirism and child killers (both in the sense of a killer of children and a killer being a child himself).

It is certain that Conan Doyle could not have hated his most famed creation as much as he implied, therefore, and for a writer to continue with the same character throughout such an extended period of time is undeniably something impressive. Whether you find the stories exciting or tedious (God forbid), whether you are jealous that the stories are difficult to work out a solution to yourself, or whether you feel that Conan Doyle ‘sold-out’ by bringing him back from the dead, the talent and continuing popularity of the man and his work is undeniable. Even today, re-runs of the fantastic 1980s TV series starring Jeremy Brett are shown frequently on ITV, a new novel (The House of Silk) has been written and released by Anthony Horowitz, and a blockbuster movie series starring Robert Downey Jnr and Jude Law is being produced simultaneously with a high-budget modern retelling starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman. And even this shiny new updated version has not entirely forgotten its roots: aside from episode titles such as ‘A Study in Pink’ (2010), ‘A Scandal in Belgravia’ (2012) and ‘The Reichenbach Fall’ (2012), we are provided within the episodes with plot references to the original stories (look out especially for ‘The Bruce-Partington Plans’ and ‘The Five Orange Pips’ in the 2010 episode ‘The Great Game’), as well as jokes tailor-made for the Holmes aficionado (in ‘A Scandal in Belgravia’ we are treated to blog titles such as ‘The Speckled Blonde’ and ‘The Geek Interpreter’). The life of Sherlock Holmes is most definitely not dead. Where the world’s obsession with the character will go from here, however, waits to be seen.

2012

'Another Day in Paradise' - An essay

Eventually, my studies in the art of the essay brought me to a final assessment. For this, I chose to talk about a subject which has enraged me my entire life (or at least for as long as I can remember). And as I post this on here, I am struck with a strange sense of sadness, as though it is more relevant today than it was when I original wrote it, almost a year ago now. Today, we live with a government which is incompetent and self-servicing at the best of times, but especially now is showing how little regard it actually has for the wildlife of our country. The abhorrant practice that it fox hunting seems to be at the top of the Conservative Party's manifesto. I hope that by reading my essay on the subject I can garner support for the plight of these innocent animals.

Imagine, if you will, standing alone in a spot of unspoiled natural beauty in the English countryside. The wind whistles through the trees. The sun beats its rays down upon the luscious, green grass. All sorts of creatures are walking or flying around you, but they are all harmless, beautiful things. There is really nothing more peaceful than this experience.

You come across a small, innocent animal. Its coat is a deep orange-brown. Its face, orange with a white outline and beady black eyes, holds no malice; it proposes no threat. It looks at you inquisitively. Its small, black nose twitches cautiously. This creature has done no-one any harm whatsoever. All it wishes to do is to survive.

What would you do if confronted with this creature? The most logical course of action to take would be to ignore it. It has hurt nobody. It does not think in a malicious way. You should have no quarrel with this animal.

And yet, inexplicably, many do. The creature I am referring to is, of course, the common red fox.

One of my earliest memories as a child is of holidaying with my family in a distant countryside location. I cannot remember exactly where, such is the nature of human memory. In this memory, I am about five or six years old. I recall sitting in the back of the small, off-white Rover 200 Coupé which was the treasured family car. After a while, we were brought to a steady halt. I look out the window and am faced with the sight of hundreds – or so it seemed at the time – of middle-aged men and women clad in red and gold regalia, all mounted upon powerful-looking steeds, stately and grandiose. The group canter across the short stretch of road in front of us and then break into a gallop as they dart across a wide expanse of field to the left. The horses leap over the wooden fence marking the perimeter of this field with ease, except for one, which catches the fence with its hind legs, smashing a section of it apart. They do not stop to observe the damage, but continue in pursuit of their quarry. I feel the exact location is irrelevant. The event is the key image in my mind.

At the time I had no idea as to what they were chasing, but was naturally impressed by the magnificent figure before me. What child would not be impressed by such fine clothes? Who would not admire someone on horseback? To me, I probably associated the image with royalty.

Now, older and, I hope, wiser, I am fully aware of what I had witnessed. One of the most baffling examples of human behaviour is, in my mind, the love many share of killing living creatures in the name of ‘sport’. And one of the most popular traditional ‘sports’ of England is the barbaric event that is fox hunting. The fox is not eaten after the hunt is finished. The poor little beast is chased by a group of ‘upper class’ men and women on horseback, led by a group of bloodthirsty hounds. The fox is chased mercilessly, with the most unfair odds imaginable – one fox against an entire hoard of scent hounds. The fox may run for a while, but eventually it will run out of steam, and when this inevitably happens, the hounds are upon him. The fox is torn to pieces. The group will then move off, satisfied that they have had a good day’s hunting, keeping up the good old English tradition of destroying those weaker than them.

After all, the quarry was only a fox, was it not?

These practices are, of course, a thing of the past. The Hunting Act 2004 outlawed the practice of hunting with dogs (particularly fox hunting, but also the hunting of other innocent creatures such as deer, hares and mink) in England and Wales from 18^th February 2005.

However, is this really the case? English and Welsh police forces have claimed that they see the enforcement of the Hunting Act as low priority. It seems that crimes against humans are considered far more important than crimes against animals. But when considered more deeply, surely the law seems increasingly absurd: for example, burglary in England carries a maximum sentence of life imprisonment. The perpetrator, after the committing of his crime, may well spend the rest of his days locked away in a small cell, completely cut off from the outside world for all eternity (or at least fifteen years). And yet someone who puts an animal through as much fear, pain and suffering as members of hunts do may only be fined a maximum of £5000; there is no jail penalty for this crime. That is, of course, if the police even bother to take the criminal to task – there have only been nine attempted prosecutions where registered hunts are concerned and, more shockingly, only three have been successful, resulting in a grand total of five huntsmen having been convicted since the ‘sport’ became illegal in February 2005. There have been no convictions since January 2007.

It seems that the wellbeing of animals is of very little concern. Perhaps certain groups of people simply have a natural vendetta against these creatures. There have been numerous reports in the media which have attempted to smear the reputation of our foxes. I remember reading, about a year ago, of a local woman in Solihull who had woken up one morning to find her pet cat’s body lying outside her house. The cat’s head had been cleanly severed, and there were no signs of a struggle. She reported later that the fox who had committed this heinous act had since been destroyed.

I smelt a rat immediately. Firstly, I would question how a fox was able to cleanly sever the head of a cat. I do not wish to include stomach-churning material in this essay, but I must stress that the decapitation could not possibly be a clean slice, unless our foxes have evolved into a state of being where they are able to carry swords around with them with which to commit such acts (and even I admit that, if this were to happen, after the way humans have treated foxes over the centuries, it would perhaps be best for us to adopt the stance of kill or be killed). Similarly, it is highly unbelievable that there would be no signs of a struggle – there should have at least been scars (unless the cat simply lay down and took its punishment). And, finally, the fox was destroyed – but how are we to know that it was the same fox. No – a fox was destroyed. It was probably unimportant whether the animal killed was guilty of the crime or not, as long as revenge was served.

I do not intend to suggest that the entire story was a fabrication – the death of a pet in this manner would be very distressing – but it seems more likely that this would have been the act of a cruel human rather than a fox.

Recently, in another part of the smear campaign seemingly set up against these beautiful animals, it was argued that foxes carry lungworm – a parasitic worm that infests the lungs of vertebrates – and pass this on to other animals. Nationwide favourite lie rag the Daily Mail reported the following, in an article apocalyptically carrying the doom-laden title ‘DEADLY URBAN FOX DISEASE SPREADING TO DOGS’ and written by the famous journalist known as ‘Daily Mail Reporter’:

Dogs are at increasing risk from a deadly parasite spread by urban foxes, experts say. Cases of lungworm infection – an animal disease that causes breathing problems and internal bleeding – have doubled in recent years. The disease arrived in the UK 30 years ago and is carried by foxes, slugs and snails.[1]

The claims laid down here are, once research into lungworm is conducted, clearly false. A fox is a vertebrate, and it is vertebrates which are afflicted with lungworm; invertebrates – usually slugs and snails – are the carriers, and it is the act of sniffing or licking their trails which causes the egg to enter the respiratory tract of an animal. Cats are generally infected by eating birds who have themselves eaten the original host, suggesting that the only way a fox could infect another animal with lungworm would be to be eaten by said animal, and there aren’t that many creatures which actually eat foxes.

So what other arguments are there in support of this disgusting pastime? One of the arguments put forward by supporters of fox hunting is that it is necessary as a form of pest control. Foxes are considered to be vermin by some farmers, as they fear they may lose valuable livestock if foxes are allowed to stray onto their land. Foxes are believed to frequently commit acts of surplus killing, particularly towards chickens, but will only eat one of the many they have killed. However, I am sorry to say that the only creature on the planet which kills animals for useless purposes, i.e. for fun, are humans. Foxes do not have malicious intent when they commit acts of violence against other animals. They will, unless rabid, only attack in self-defense or for food, and provided it is not disturbed, the fox will take all of the chickens it has killed away from the site of death and conceal them elsewhere to eat later, when times are harder. It is understandable that these events can be very damaging to a farmer, and would naturally instil a hatred for these creatures within them, but if better security measures were put in place, these killings would be far less likely to occur. There are now many humane methods of fox-proofing a farm such as electric fences and ultrasonic devices. And besides, if they were always a pest species, it seems odd than many farmers consider them an ally in preventing the arrival of rabbits, moles and voles on the farms. And besides, there has been evidence in the past that farmers were encouraging foxes to breed on their land in order to provide foxes for sport – it seems quite strange that some farmers would actively encourage the presence of these ‘vermin’ on their land.

So immediately it is apparent that this argument holds no water whatsoever. Another – perhaps the main – problem with this argument is that male foxes are territorial animals: as soon as one fox is eliminated from a location, another will move in an take its place, and by only going after one fox at a time the ‘pest’ problem will never be dealt with effectively. So it is very clear that this is simply a feeble attempt at justifying the barbarous actions of these individuals. And, it must be admitted, if it was truly to do with pest control the so-called ‘exterminators’ wouldn’t be required to assemble on horseback clad from head to toe in ceremonial regalia in a manner steeped in tradition. Is it in any way realistic to imagine a pest control team chasing rats around a city with dogs blowing bugles?

The question which hangs in the air around all of this madness is as to who the real enemy is. Is it the hunters themselves, engaging in the sport for the sake of tradition? Is it the current Prime Minister, who seems unmovable regarding his desire to relinquish the ban on fox hunting? Or is it the media, reporting ‘facts’ to the public under the guise of ‘news’ whilst simply broadcasting their own political views? In my opinion, there is no one source for this enmity against our beautiful native foxes. We shall always find supporters of blood sports and we shall always find those who oppose them, just as we shall always find folk who enjoy football and those of us who wish it would simply go away. But I think it highlights a certain strange, sinister desire hidden deep within the psyche of the supporting side when they are happy to invent facts and transmit them to the public through whatever medium is at their disposal in a truly pathetic attempt to convert the opposing side to their point of view.

Can there ever really be any justification for this disgusting sport? I would be very surprised if, before the Hunting Act is once more voted upon in 2012, we do not hear even more arguments for the continuation of this ‘sport’, attempting to dress up what is clearly just a game to those taking part as some sort of necessary heroic culling activity. And I fully expect the ban to be repealed as so many seem to be against it. But it would be a return to a lowly, vicious state of being for mankind.

Surely we have progressed beyond such barbarism?

When I think back to that day, many years ago, when I first witnessed a hunt, my mental image is always accompanied by music. The song playing on the car’s radio was Phil Collins’ ‘Another Day in Paradise’. When I think back to what that fox must have been going through at the time, my father’s choice of music seems rather ironic.

2011

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[1] Daily Mail Reporter, ‘DEADLY URBAN FOX DISEASE SPREADING TO DOGS’, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1373857/Deadly-urban-fox-disease-spreading-dogs.html, [accessed 10 April 2011].

'On the 3D Trend' - An essay

During my second semester at university, I took a module in creative non-fiction. During one of our many workshops, we discussed the writing of personal essays. What follows is my own first attempt at exploring that area of writing.

When it comes to modern cinema, special effects are widely considered to be of the utmost importance. Gone are the days where, without the power of the computer having been invented, monsters were simply men in silver tin foil, and any animated characters were the products of stop-motion or a hard-working artist’s drawings. Yet I now feel that, finally, special effects have gone too far, with the current fetish that is 3D.

Every single film trailer shown nowadays feels the need to end with the irritating tagline ‘at cinemas now – in 3D!’ It would appear that film companies find the concept that some people may not be interested in this new medium utterly baffling; why would anybody not want to go into a cinema and be able to look at it as if they were looking down a real-life street? Well, in my eyes, the answer is simple – if people want to view a 3D environment, then it would be easier to sit still, open your eyes and look directly in front of you, rather than spending almost £10 to get the exact same effect in a cinema.

3D, for a start, seems to be just another excuse for Cineworld to absorb even more money out of my wallet. The first time I went to my local cinema to see a 3D film was during all the hype about Avatar, whence I was charged the standard student rate of £6.50 – but then the catch was cruelly sprung upon me.

‘I’m sorry, we only show 3D films in the deluxe screen.’

Suddenly, my £6.50 went up to £9, followed by an extra charge of £1 for those charming magic spectacles.

I am further irritated by the way in which filmmakers treat 3D as some sort of 21^st century scientific breakthrough. Well, I’m afraid stereoscopic technology has been around since the 1950s, and all it really is is two images placed on top of one another with one image being moved sideways slightly. But it was once a niche market – if you saw something in 3D, it really was a treat. Now however, we’re having it shoved down our throats every single day, not just in films (where for 2011 I have counted no less than 33 three-dimensional titles, including Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (which I seem to recall used no 3D other than occasionally hving a pirate stick a sword out of the screen in a this-is-supposed-to-be-threatening-but-really-just-looks-a-bit-crap kind of way), Captain America, and The Smurfs), but on television as well (does anybody remember Channel 4’s simply awful 3D night a couple of years ago?) and also in games! The Nintendo 3DS, which scientists suggest may be harmful to the eyesight of children. Personally, I can’t think of a worse idea for a handheld console.

But the worst part of the 3D craze is the way in which many of my friends absolutely rave about it: ‘wow, it looks just like the planes are flying towards you. I ducked because I was afraid they might crash into me.’ Well, unfortunately, that is still an impossibility. I refuse to believe that anyone will be fooled by the ‘futuristic’ ‘magic’ of 3D which, although allowing you to see actors on a screen in all their pop-out book style glory, is still just a flat image on a screen, meaning that pirate up there isn’t going to be able to run you through with his rapier, the giant winged things in Avatar aren’t going to fly out into the cinema and take you back to their nests, and if you are unwilling to pay even more money for the magic specs, you’re stuck with a grey, blurred image with pink and green fringes around every single object.

And what about when the film is released on DVD (which is being destroyed by the seemingly pointless craze of Blu-Ray, but that’s for another essay), where most films only see a 2D release despite the ‘incredible’ ‘depth-of-field’ they possessed in their original cinematic form? And on top of that, the few films that are released in 3D, once they enter the home entertainment environment, look absolutely appalling; gone are the Clark Kent-esque digital 3D glasses. Here we are forced to put up with flimsy cardboard glasses with coloured lenses resembling discarded Roses wrappers (recycling at its best). Not only do I find this method of viewing 3D the one most likely to give you a cataclysmic migraine, but the image suddenly becomes a sickly mixture of grey and pink – whatever that colour is called, it’s certainly not how it looked in the cinema.

Despite constantly being told how amazing it is, I still feel unable to understand the attraction of 3D. During the few 3D films I have willingly opted to see, I have found myself frequently removing those incredibly annoying glasses because, having never worn glasses in my life for longer than about half an hour in a drama class at school, I find three full hours of being fitted with them sheer murder on my ears and the bridge of my nose. And the most humorous thing about the glasses is the amount of people I know who have confessed to taking the glasses off just to see what the film looks like without them on. It seems very strange that people will go to see a 3D film but are in fact more interested to see how it looks in 2D. Why not just go to see a 2D film? And I imagine it must be murder on my friends who already wear glasses, having to wear 3D specs over the top of their normal specs; aside from being incredibly uncomfortable, I always feel they look somewhat like incredibly short-sighted nerds from the future.

But I am forced to wonder, with much horror, what we will be forced to deal with next. There are already 3D televisions. Well, that’s all well and good, but to me it sounds like another fad similar to HD which, unless you have incredibly acute eyesight, will look extremely similar to regular TV. And do any of us really want to see EastEnders in a way which makes us believe we are really there? Look out for Pat Butcher, she’s throwing knives out into the audience again! Do any of us really want to watch Pineapple Dance Studios just to see a larger than life Louis Spence flinging his arms out towards you as if he’s about to pull you into his insane and frighteningly eccentric and destructively deluded world of perfection and lead you in his definition of a foxtrot? I sincerely hope not. But with the way 3D is being consistently rammed down our throats I wouldn’t be surprised if before long we will be forced to put up with Prime Minister’s Question Time in the same medium. Imagine that; Clegg and Cameron, the Chuckle Brothers themselves, practically in the room with you. What joy.

But what do I know?

2011