[SOC] In Memory of Paul Bartlett, SK

[Bill Cunningham]

In true SOC fashion, first attempt sent from wrong email account.

Paul's wit is remembered with a repeat of one of his best postings to this
or any other society, whether or not he was the original author.  Paul will
be missed. Requiescat in pace.
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LAST week, I mentioned in passing the Society of
Pedants. Mr Little from
Bristol then wrote in pointing out a grave error. "We
would never call
ourselves the Society of Pedants," he wrote. He went
on to explain that
they - or, rather, it - were - or was - originally
known as the Society for
Pedants, "since the society of pedants is what we
enjoy while at a meeting
and the society for pedants is the group we would wish
to join".

But over the years, he went on, the Society came to
believe that few
prospective members were truly pedants, since they did
not make a living
from their pedantry. "We therefore decided to rename
ourselves, after a
secret ballot, the Society for the Promotion of
Pedantry," he concluded. "I
hope this clears up the confusion."

Alas, I must inform Mr Little that, in pedantic
circles, things move quick,
or quickly. Three days ago, I attended the weekly
Woden's Day meeting of the
Society. Members were due to debate whether its title
should be changed from
"the Society for the Promotion of Pedantry" to "The
Society for the
Promotion of Pedantry".

Before the main debate could begin, the Chairman - or
Chair - informed us
that there were a number of outstanding matters to
clear up, before being
overruled by a majority of members who said that, on
the contrary, there was
a number of outstanding matters to clear up. "Next
week's cinema outing is
to The Golden Bowl, the adaptation of Henry James's
famous novel," he said.
"This will be followed by a short meeting in which you
will be able to vote
for a motion declaring it not as good as the original,
followed by an
opportunity to list its key mistakes and
anachronisms."

"On a point of order, Mr Chairman." A tall woman at
the back had raised her
hand. "On a point of order, shouldn't that be not
'Henry James's famous
novel' but 'Henry James' famous novel'?"

"Strictly speaking, that's not a point of order,"
replied the Chairman,
"It's a point of information."

"In this day and age," began a man in a beige
cardigan. At the sound of this
explosive phrase everyone perked up. "In this day and
age, I wonder if one
is able to strictly call The Golden Bowl a famous
novel at all?"

A cry of horror erupted in the hall. "I must ask the
gentleman in the beige
cardigan to leave the hall," said the Chairman. "We
cannot sanction a split
infinitive."

"I refute your suggestion that this is a cardigan,"
retorted the offending
gentleman. "A cardigan buttons, or, if you will,
unbuttons, to the waist.
This garment buttons only a quarter of the way down,
to just above the
chest. So it is not a cardigan in the strict sense of
the word, but a
jersey, even though that aforementioned island is not,
strictly speaking,
its country of origin."

There followed a heated discussion over the speaker's
use of the word
refute: some thought he meant deny, while others
believed he would have been
better off employing - or at least using - confute.

"On a point of information, Chairman." The speaker was
a woman with a bun in
her hair, by which I mean not a woman with a small,
sweetened bread roll or
cake (often with dried fruit) in her hair, but a woman
whose hair was drawn
into a tight coil at the back of her head. "On a point
of information, I
must point out that, in the original novel,
Frankenstein was not, as is
commonly supposed, the monster, but rather the
inventor of that monster."

A murmur of approval swept - metaphorically - around
the room. We pedants
always appreciate being reminded of the F-point, even
if it hasn't been
raised. "May I also add," continued the woman with the
bun, "that, contrary
to popular misconception, King Canute was only too
well aware that he could
not hold back the tide."

"Your statement did not require that superfluous
'also'," interjected the
Chairman, "for it means 'in addition': if you say 'May
I also add' you are,
in effect, saying 'May I add add'. I'm not sure that
this was what you meant
to infer."

"Imply! Imply! Imply!" The entire hall - or, at least,
all those contained
within it - chanted at the Chairman. He left in tears,
knowing as well as
anyone that the incorrect use of the word "infer" has
always been a
resigning matter.

After three hours 59 minutes 23.5 seconds had passed,
the time came to
debate the central motion, That the Name of This
Society Should Be Changed
from the Society for the Promotion of Pedantry to The
Society for the
Promotion of Pedantry.

"But what exactly do we mean when we say that someone
is a pedant? Are we
saying, in effect, that he - or she - is a
pedal-operated pleasure boat?"
asked a Scotch man, that is, a man who worked for
Teacher's.

"No. That is a pedalo," replied the Treasurer.

"Of course, it is possible that a pedalo might be
operated by a pedant and,
if it were then to be defined solely by its movements,
it could claim -
probably through a lawyer, since pedalos are unable to
speak - that, in this
specific instance, a pedalo would also, to some
extent, be a pedant. Or one
might imagine a pedalo in a children's story - say
Peter the Pedalo - in
which the author had contrived to give him - or her -
a pedantic character
but -"

There followed a lengthy debate over whether or not
imaginary inanimate
objects could be classified as pedants, and, if so,
whether they should be
admitted to the Society, or The Society. The
proceedings went on for ever.
Well, not literally for ever