Monday, 4 May 2009

Golden Clericism

When I say 'Golden Cleric Award', or more specifically Golden Cleric Award Acceptance Speech, do people actually know what I'm referring to? It is all too easy to forget that not everyone is lucky enough to know Father Ted off by heart. I haven't received my G.C. award yet but I have gotten a somewhat chuffing invitation to come to a dinner put on by one of the residential colleges here and impart wisdom to the assembled collegians. (I think the Baron might have done something similar last year if I remember rightly.) Of course I will actually think of something appropriate and meaningful to say but I do love having the opportunity to imagine delivering a G.C.A.A.S. Should I tell them my views on plagiarism? Or what I think about the 'is an Arts degree useful' debate? Or some thoughts on Literature today...? It is part of the broader fantasy of getting into some kind of position of authority and success and immediately & completely abusing the privileges accompanying it, in the most reckless possible manner.



Just one of the many many reasons why Father Ted is the best tv show ever made.

3 comments:

Ben.H said...

Congratulations L! I've always thought you were the second best academic.

Alexis, Baron von Harlot said...

I spoke on the salutary effects of procrastination. But the life and times of plagiarism sounds like a fine figger of a subject.

TimT said...

Your suggestion of 'getting into a position of authority and immediately and completely abusing the privileges' sounds like a perfectly wonderful idea.

My favourite example of this is Brian Aldiss' essay 'Looking Forward to 2001', an address to the Oxford Union, which begins as it means to continue, in a welter of increasingly ludicrous mixed metaphors:

Mr Chairman, Fellow Mortals: I suppose you all know what death is. It's that last great MOT test in the skies, that undiscovered bun-fight from whose custard-pies no traveller revives. Undertakers used to charge £95 per head for it; this week it's gone up to £120 per head, and I daren't tell you how much for the body. Apparently it was part of an official meeting: he concludes: 'The motion was carried, surprisingly'.

It's in his book 'This World and Nearer Ones', and since the essay isn't online I'll just wimpishly link to my own review of the book.