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IN COMMON, I am sure, with many of my fellow citizens, I have been intensely
irritated during recent months by the recurrent arrival in the post of ‘an
offer I can’t refuse’ from a company that wants to flog me a time-share
lease on some tawdry holiday home.

This rubbish is posted in the US (presumably in an attempt to side-step
consumer-protection regulations which apply to advertising material despatched
in Britain), and it comes in an envelope boldly labelled PRINTED MATTER
(in order, I suppose, to save money on the US postage), followed by PERSONAL
& CONFIDENTIAL.

So the first wave of irritation is caused by the implication that the
sender assumes that I, the recipient, am so dim-witted that I’ll believe
that a printed circular can indeed be ‘personal & confidential’, and
thus proceed to rip open the cover with trembling fingers and fast-beating
heart, psychologically softened up before I’ve any idea of what’s inside.

And what do I find inside? Gracious heavens! My fantasies come true!
My name has been ‘personally selected’ and I’ve been allocated ‘a unique
award number’ which means that I am ‘absolutely guaranteed’ a gift from
a list which includes a car, a diamond watch, Pounds sterling 1000, a sapphire
necklace and earrings, Pounds sterling 500, and a video camcorder outfit,
the ‘exact gift’ being determined ‘by matching your unique number with the
official award list at our Exhibition Centre’.

All I have to do to reap my harvest is ring a Freefone number and ask
for Wendy in order to arrange a time at which I and my spouse will ‘participate
in an enjoyable holiday ownership presentation’ at the aforesaid exhibition
centre, but hurry, hurry, because redemption of my ‘certi ficate of award’
must take place within 48 hours.

Thus the second and larger wave of irritation. Do these hucksters really
think that I, or any other reasonable citizen, will fall for the suggestion
that we only have to suffer a couple of hours of their sales spiel in order
to emerge richer by at least Pounds sterling 500 or a sapphire necklace?
Don’t they see that we can see that their cunningly (not to say dishonestly)
worded document, which appears to ‘guarantee’ one of such rewards, actually
allows them to palm us off with a Woolworths’ tiepin, which they unaccountably
failed to include in their list of possible prizes? They must be idiots
to invest so much money and effort on such a transparently bogus promotion.

Then I thought again. I thought about some of the examples of human
behaviour I’ve seen reported recently.

Last March, National Power launched a hot air balloon shaped like a
power station cooling tower as an advertising gimmick. Before it went aloft
it was blessed (yes, blessed) by the Dean of St Paul’s.

In February, a Mr Bill Subritzky told an audience of charismatic so-called
Christians in Brighton of his knowledge of the fact that demons have no
bodies while angels usually do. He didn’t say how he knew.

In January, it was reported that the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Centre
in Swansea has stopped issuing number plates containing the figures 666,
since many drivers believe that it is the signature of the Anti-Christ (see
the Book of Revelations), and can put them in thrall to the Devil.

In May, it was reported that a 55-year-old man had filled his ears with
superglue, afterwards removed with considerable difficulty under a general
anaesthetic, in order to reduce the disturbance created by neighbours who
made a noise at night.

In March, Saudi Muslim theologians pondered whether it might or might
not be theologically sound to permit surgeons to re-attach amputated limbs
cut off from the frames of criminals in punishment for their wicked ways.
In the end, they decided that it wasn’t.

In March, also, the Deputy Interior Minister of Thailand went to Singapore.
An increasing number of his nationals, working as labourers in that island
state, were dying from a mysterious cause which ‘baffled doctors’.

So what did the Deputy Interior Minister do? The rational thing, of
course. He went to Singapore to distribute lucky charms to the terrified
workers.

On mature consideration I have decided that the people who send me these
ridiculous ‘come on’ leaflets aren’t so stupid after all.

It’s we who are stupid, and they know it.

I might even ring up Wendy.