When logic fails

Logic is great. Really fab. But it cannot and should not be used in all areas of life.

A great example of this happened to me tonight: I have some friends (yes, really), and some of them are in a band. Their debut gig was this week, and it sold out in advance (they have some canny publicity behind them).

These guys are talented. And I mean really talented. They call themselves The Clockwork Quartet, and their music is available for free download. I got to see them live: and they played a style of gig which I think is very original and entertaining. I also got to hear their new tracks: two of which especially show great promise (the Magician's story and the tale of the General's wife).

Given that I attended the debut gig of a band so chock-full of talent, logic dictated a specific course of action. The programmes were on sale for £10, and this included a limited-edition CD of their music. Bargain! So I bought two copies. One copy I intended as a keepsake, and the other I had the band members sign (a tiresome task which I asked a friend to perform for me whilst I socialised and admired younger women wearing corsets). That's going to be part of my pension fund*, I thought, if any of them ever get famous (and I firmly believe that the odds are in my favour here).

So far, so logical. But one of the band members left a personal message for me when he signed: an in-joke between us involving naked nymphs and their stubborn unavailability to myself. Don't ask.

Anyway, I realised afterwards that no matter what logic (and large wads of cash) suggest, I would find it almost impossible to part with that particular memento. So I'll have to flog the unsigned copy at auction in twenty years, for much less moolah.

Clearly, then, logic has its time and its place. It's not always applicable, and what an awful world we would live in if it was.

Therefore, I shall leave the signed version to my kids, who can flog it for as much as they want. They won't care: they weren't there, and if they know anyone who was, it'll be an elderly person who they call "Uncle", and who smells funny. I think that this is a very logical solution.

* The "signed programme" would have been be part of my pension fund, not "younger women wearing corsets". This fact annoys me almost as much as my consistently missing the Naked Nymph Parties.