How Not to Change Sex or Free Sky Everything Kills Mr Garth

I have become someone else. A man to be precise. Never respond to things that offer you free stuff. Because that’s how it happened:

Three goggle-eyed months ago a piece of paper alighted in utmost innocence upon my doormat (I have one of those) (mostly for the cat to sit on in order to enable us to construct basic easy-to-read sentences). FREE SKY EVERYTHING FOR THREE MONTHS!!!! It declared. The paper, not the cat or the mat. JUST RING THIS NUMBER!!! You may recall all of this. It was easy. I rang the number. I got free Sky everything. I watched Sex and the City. A lot.

All I had to do was ring the number again three months later and cancel so as not to be paying for expensive Sky everything for the rest of my life. Frankly I should have been suspicious given all the capital letters and exclamations marks.

I was very sure not to forget. I put reminders on my Google iPage, my calendar, my walls, my hands and on post-it notes that covered the cats and the mats.

Clutching my ‘Welcome to Sky’ letter I rang the number. Pressed some numbers. Waited. For a long time. Eventually a young man answered.

Me: I want to cancel my free Sky everything.
Young man: What is your subscription number?
I looked at my letter and read a number that was quite like infinity.
Young man: And the account holder’s name?
I told him my name.
He denied that I had an account.
I looked at my letter.
The account holder transpired to be a Mr George Garth.

I don’t know a Mr George Garth. Although he sounds like a nice enough chap. Although by a strange coincidence I live in a place that sounds remarkably like that.

Me: I believe there has been a computer error. I know not of George.
Young Man: Only the account holder can cancel the subscription.
Me: He doesn’t exist.
Young man: You cannot cancel, only Mr Garth can.
Me: He is a fictional character.
Young Man: Can he come to the phone?
Me: Hang on.

I fetched Mr Garth.
Me (in unlikely put-on deep voice that sounded a cross between someone with a heavy cold and an orang-utan): I want to cancel my Sky everything subscription.
Young Man: Is that Mr Garth?
Me: Yes.
Young Man: You cannot cancel as you have another month to go.

In the strange warping of space-time induced by satellite transmission September had become October.

Mr Garth: But can’t I just cancel?
Young man: No.

Mr Garth hung up. He was confused, befuddled and a little wary. He also was developing a sore throat from talking like a member of the ape family. He was worried that it was all a ploy to make him pay forever.

He picked up the phone and dialled. And waited. For an infinite amount of time. A young woman answered.
Mr Garth: I want to cancel my free Sky everything.
Young woman: What is your subscription number?
Mr Garth looked at his letter and read a number that was quite like infinity.
Young woman: And the account holder’s name?
Mr Garth: Mr Garth.
The young woman then gave him a forth degree interrogation as to his viewing habits. This was most revealing as to Mr Garth, his views, his lifestyle and his inner-most secrets.

It turned out that Mr Garth really didn’t care for TV at all; he preferred a good book and an open sandwich. His kids were now banned from watching because three of them had committed very heinous crimes of an undisclosed nature brought on by too many violent films and the other six had eschewed their studies in order to watch Sky everything. His wife had left him because she couldn’t withstand another advert depicting the germs that lived in her toilet. His two cats and several cocker spaniels had become addicted to Sex and the City.

Mr Garth: So really I do need to cancel my subscription.
Young Woman: What about sport? Don’t any of your family watch the sport?
Mr Garth: I want to cancel my subscription (he was getting very grumpy now, not to mention a tad hoarse)
Young Woman: But you still have a free month.
Mr Garth: I want to cancel my subscription (he was losing the will to live now, not to mention a becoming more and more shrill)
Young Woman: Well you have to give 30 days notice on this sort of account.

It’s a sad but little-known fact that fictional characters can actually die of frustration.

I suspect I have been caught by an elaborate piece of consumer entrapment which makes time distortion, the reality of fiction and the dangers of Sex and the City look like orang-utan play.

How To Tell if a Man Fancies You Using Philosophy

The Unknowable Man’s spare career (we should all have one) (mine is as a cat walker) is as a Consultant Freelance Philosopher. The public need for such a person is fairly self-evident. Oft have I wished to consult a Consultant Philosopher on the finer points of philosophy for those every-day questions such as:
Why did I walk into this room?
Where have I come from to arrive here?
Does this interesting pile of junk on the kitchen table actually exist?
If I have free will then why is the solicitor charging me?
Why are Fallacies so often pathetic?
And
If this is reality then why does it seem so dusty?


Philosophers tend to ask the really BIG questions, such as
WHY?
HOW?
WHAT?
And
PARDON? (those are the politer philosophers)

An interesting thing about the big questions, I’ve noticed, is that they tend to be very small.

Whereas Relationship Physicists (my other spare career) tend to ask very slightly longer ones:
‘How do you tell if a man fancies you?’ tends very much to be the favourite.

So, in a spirit of trying to find something in common with the man I’m sleeping with I will now attempt to discover:
How to tell if a man fancies you using philosophy-

Step 1: ask the BIG questions

why do I want to know if he fancies me?
how will I know if he fancies me?
what does ‘fancies’ actually mean?
pardon me for asking.

Step 2: answer the BIG questions
This can obviously only be done in a personal context but if you’re stuck then some examination of the types of knowledge such as a priori and a posteriori (most relevant here) will probably be as useless as anything else.

Step 3: come to a philosophical conclusions. Popular ones include:
‘Something so paradoxical that no one will believe it.’
‘An infinite capacity for taking things for granted.’
‘Some touch of madness.’
And
‘Fuck knows.’

All in all I’m beginning to suspect that philosophy may not be the way forward for the Big Question. As a famous philosopher said:

‘Science is what you know. Philosophy is what you don't know.’

And as a famous scientist said:

‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.’

Perhaps it’s time to stop asking The Question. Surely we all really know the answer. 42.