The case of the missing deerstalker

To tell the truth, Deerstalker does not actually own a deerstalker. There are several reasons for this, not the least the fact that the ones he has tried on did not suit him well at all. And after all, the man who will for all times be associated with the deerstalker, never, as far as we know, wore one.

He is, of course, the King of detectives, Sherlock Holmes; known to the world thanks to his good friend John H. Watson's tales of his adventures. The drawing above is by the foremost of Holmes-illustrators, Sidney Paget. It is an illustration to Watson's story "Silver Blaze", and the reason for the misunderstanding of Holmes and the deerstalker.

In the story, Watson writes: "And so it happened that an hour or so later I found myself in the corner of a first-class carriage flying along en route for Exeter, while Sherlock Holmes, with his sharp, eager face framed in his ear-flapped traveling-cap, dipped rapidly into the bundle of fresh papers which he had procured at Paddington."

Paget interpreted "ear-flapped traveling-cap" as a deerstalker, and thereby a pop cultural icon was burned onto our collective retina.

Alice and father William

Every fan of Lewis Carroll knows Alice’s recitation of "You are Old, Father William". It is a wonderful read, but one does get the feeling that Alice isn’t entirely successful. After all, Alice says so herself:

'That is not said right,' said the Caterpillar.

'Not quite right, I'm afraid,' said Alice, timidly; 'some of the words have got altered.'

'It is wrong from beginning to end,' said the Caterpillar decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes.

But what, exactly, is Alice meant to recite? A poem called "The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them", by none less than a Poet Laureate, Robert Southey (1774-1843).

Underneath is Southeys poem, followed by the lines preceding Alice’s recitation and then her the poem according to Alice. It might not be correct, but we do not think many will disagree with our opinion that it is way better, and a lot more fun, than the original.

The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them
"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, father William, a hearty old man;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abus'd not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And pleasures with youth pass away.
And yet you lament not the days that are gone;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I rememberd that youth could not last;
I thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And life must be hast'ning away;
You are cheerful and love to converse upon death;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age."

***

Alice
For some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, 'So you think you're changed, do you?''

I'm afraid I am, sir,' said Alice; 'I can't remember things as I used – and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!''

Can't remember what things?' said the Caterpillar.

'Well, I've tried to say "How doth the little busy bee," but it all came different!' Alice replied in a very melancholy voice.

'Repeat, "You are old, Father William,"' said the Caterpillar.

Alice folded her hands, and began: –

'You are old, Father William,' the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head –
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'

'In my youth,' Father William replied to his son,
'I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door –
Pray, what is the reason of that?'

'In my youth,' said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
'I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling the box –
Allow me to sell you a couple?'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak –
Pray how did you manage to do it?'

'In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose –
What made you so awfully clever?'

'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,
'Said his father; 'don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!'

Is that a bug in your bunny?

Is Bugs Bunny Jewish? The question seems to be of the utmost importance, considering the fact that rabbits hardly are kosher. A certain David Kauffman does, though, present strong arguments for his jewishness.

But what really convinced us here at the society, is this comment to a comment:

"Six whiskers. Six fingers. Six toes. Ears that look a lot like horns. Hmmm. Rev 13:2 – ‘And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion....’ The conclusion seems inevitable: Bugs Bunny is the Pope."

A very batty welcome

We hereby wish you welcome to The Batty Society.

In the dreadful sea of conformity that is modern society, we wish to be a beacon of eccentricity, a haven of honest silliness.

There is no hope of stopping the wild ride of the juggernaut of modernity, but that is no excuse not to keep up appearances or to fight (in a polite way) for the values of the true gentleman. The fact that it is hopeless is no excuse.

We hope you will drop by from time to time, to catch a glimpse of the world as it never was (and hopefully never will be), but, in a way, ought once to have been. Perhaps.

We can at least promise you lots of badgers, bats and dodos. And the occasional cup of tea.