Matt Kelly's Fifteen Minutes of Infamy
by John McGroarty
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: A couple of strong ones.
Description: The ego made flesh; the Tory spirit of the age. (An excerpt from The Tower.)
_____________________________________________________________________
Matt Kelly was on the telly. He was a star. He was a guru. A hero. He was the new model citizen. He was the way, the truth, and the light. He was unstoppable. The ego made flesh. The acting animal. He was the future.
The Ted and Nancy show was planning a regeneration of society in cahoots with the Sun. No double entendres or irony coated lips or staged solidarity today. Not even a cheap gag. This was the real thing. Halos. Sense of destiny. Ted and Nancy had even convinced themselves.
“So, Matt,” said Nancy, knitting her brows like some trash TV Mother Theresa, “what do you think is the biggest problem in the schemes?”
“The ego, Nancy,” said Matt.
“Selfishness,” barked Ted into the camera for non-Freudians in the audience.
“Exactly,” said Matt, “something for nothing. It’s too easy for too many people. Don’t want to work. Don’t want to help other people. Just sit around drinking, taking drugs, going out stealing. Becomes a way of life. Fae father tae son and fae son back tae father again. It’s a pointless vicious cycle.”
Nancy nodded solemnly. She reached out and touched Matt’s leg.
“But you’ve got a job. Serving the community in the hospital. And you saved your friend’s life by diving into freezing water in the Clyde,” said Nancy.
Matt swallowed his modesty. “Aye, I think we should act unselfishly. Help yer family, yer friends, yer neighbours, ye know?” Matt flung up his hands. Nancy smiled sympathetically.
“Doctor Carnegie, professor of evolutionary psychology at the Big Bank Brain Trust, maybe you could give us some help here?” said Ted in his arrogantly sergeant-majorish staccato.
Carnegie sat up in his chair.
“What we and your viewers have to understand is that everything important in our view of the world was shaped in the Pleistocene,” he paused, “that is, over 200 million years ago, and that we lived in that way until the end of the last ice age some eleven thousand years ago. And in pre-history people would make a kill of an animal and then live off it for months. Only when the food ran out did they start to think about going hunting. This attitude is hard-wired in our brains. It’s an instinct and it means that unless we take positive action to discourage it, people have the tendency to fall into lethargic states. People get used to the easy life and only change when their bellies are empty.”
“So,” said Nancy, “our modern society, by making things too easy for people, leads to decadence. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, yes,” Carnegie laughed, “that is the irony of the post war planners; you know the people who set up the welfare state, what they didn’t know, what it would lead to.”
“And what’s to be done?” said Nancy, looking around.
“Well, as your other guest correctly intuited, what we need are policies that encourage people to go hunting, that is, to be responsible for themselves, and for others,” said Carnegie.
“What would that mean in practical terms?” said Ted, eyebrows raised inquisitively.
Carnegie puffed himself up. “A radical reform of the welfare system,” he said, “a change from a culture of receiving to one of giving.”
“Okay, okay,” said Ted, suspecting that the message was getting lost, “what you’re really saying is that the welfare system, which we think is helping people, is actually cruel and unfair.”
“Well, yeah,” said Carnegie, “it’s like giving your kids a diet of sugar and then complaining when they get fat and have diabetes and heart problems and what not.”
“And like getting other people to pay for the sugar! The hard-working majority,” said Nancy. She clapped her hands excitedly.
Professor Carnegie of the Big Bank Brain Trust beamed.
“Well,” she went on, “super to talk to you professor and now we would like you to present Matt with his Shining Sun award and this cheque for five thousand pounds.”
“It’s a pleasure, Nancy,” said Carnegie.
“Music!” cried Nancy. She started up a round of applause. The lights dimmed. Matt got up and had the professor hoop the medal over his head.
“How do you explain this gentleman, Professor Carnegie?” asked Ted, when the applause had died down. He put his arm round Matt. Gave him a squeeze.
“At the Big Bank Brain Trust our genetic investigators have isolated a gene on the Y chromosome called BSHT1 and we think that it contributes to heroic, hard, selfless toil in certain individuals, jokingly we call it the “master” gene but the more we investigate, the more it appears that really that is what moves evolution forward and really carries the rest of the herd with it. It’s what I call the human spirit gene.”
“Whoo,” said Nancy, eyes flashing and white teeth shining, “what do you think, Matt?”
Just then there was a ruckus in the audience. The camera swung round. Rab McCulloch was trying to shout something out. Matt stared at him. The big fuckin’ lassie. What the fuck was he doing here?
He was being huckled out by security.
“Don’t you think that when the intelligentsia abandons the people, then all society is lost, all civilization means nothing,” he shouted as he was dragged out.
“Well, really,” said Nancy quietly, shaking her head.
And then to the camera, “Nutter! Sorry, Matt, what were you saying?”
“I believe that we can overcome the selfish society,” said Matt.
“I like that,” said Ted. He gave Matt another squeeze.
“That we can break this cycle of dependency and regenerate this country,” Matt nodded at the camera, “regenerate the country,” he said again.
Another round of applause.
“Well, once again super to talk to you both,” said Nancy, intonation rising in all the wrong places, “and I hope you’ll be helping in the future with the Shining Suns project.”
“We’re setting up a BBBT centre in Edinburgh so we’ll be helping all we can,” said Professor Carnegie.
“Okaaaay,” said Ted, “Merry Christmas to you both, don’t forget to join us tomorrow for our special Christmas Eve show. Go easy.”
The cameras clicked off. The set lights went out.
Matt found himself being ushered off the set with Professor Carnegie. This was life. This was what he had been waiting for. He had booked himself into a nice hotel for Christmas. He would go back to the tower and pick up the cash from the Eadies’ flat. Then goodbye forever to the Circus. Aye, and good riddance.
“Hey, Matt,” said Carnegie, “we could maybe use you at the Big Bank Brain Trust. You know, in propaganda.” He winked at Matt. Handed him his card.
“I’ll be at the Edinburgh Hilton until mid-January, give me a phone and we’ll talk,” said Carnegie. And then, moving quickly, he grabbed Matt and looked into his eyes.
“You know the truth,” he said, “and now you’ll live it. Are you afraid?”
Matt shook his head.
“For there are things to fear in this life, and in what is to come,” said Carnegie.
He let Matt go then and smiled. Walked away.
“Remember to phone me,” he said over his shoulder.
Matt wasn’t afraid. Fear was superstition. Was weakness.
Matt’s mobile rang. It was Maggie Eadie. I saw you on the telly, Matt. You were wonderful. I love you.
Was a comet afraid? Was a mountain? Was an eagle? Matt was up there flying with the eagles. With the comets. A natural child of the skies. Of the universe. At one with the gods. An equal. A natural being. Awake. Fully awake. The hero in time. The ego made flesh.
Swearwords: A couple of strong ones.
Description: The ego made flesh; the Tory spirit of the age. (An excerpt from The Tower.)
_____________________________________________________________________
Matt Kelly was on the telly. He was a star. He was a guru. A hero. He was the new model citizen. He was the way, the truth, and the light. He was unstoppable. The ego made flesh. The acting animal. He was the future.
The Ted and Nancy show was planning a regeneration of society in cahoots with the Sun. No double entendres or irony coated lips or staged solidarity today. Not even a cheap gag. This was the real thing. Halos. Sense of destiny. Ted and Nancy had even convinced themselves.
“So, Matt,” said Nancy, knitting her brows like some trash TV Mother Theresa, “what do you think is the biggest problem in the schemes?”
“The ego, Nancy,” said Matt.
“Selfishness,” barked Ted into the camera for non-Freudians in the audience.
“Exactly,” said Matt, “something for nothing. It’s too easy for too many people. Don’t want to work. Don’t want to help other people. Just sit around drinking, taking drugs, going out stealing. Becomes a way of life. Fae father tae son and fae son back tae father again. It’s a pointless vicious cycle.”
Nancy nodded solemnly. She reached out and touched Matt’s leg.
“But you’ve got a job. Serving the community in the hospital. And you saved your friend’s life by diving into freezing water in the Clyde,” said Nancy.
Matt swallowed his modesty. “Aye, I think we should act unselfishly. Help yer family, yer friends, yer neighbours, ye know?” Matt flung up his hands. Nancy smiled sympathetically.
“Doctor Carnegie, professor of evolutionary psychology at the Big Bank Brain Trust, maybe you could give us some help here?” said Ted in his arrogantly sergeant-majorish staccato.
Carnegie sat up in his chair.
“What we and your viewers have to understand is that everything important in our view of the world was shaped in the Pleistocene,” he paused, “that is, over 200 million years ago, and that we lived in that way until the end of the last ice age some eleven thousand years ago. And in pre-history people would make a kill of an animal and then live off it for months. Only when the food ran out did they start to think about going hunting. This attitude is hard-wired in our brains. It’s an instinct and it means that unless we take positive action to discourage it, people have the tendency to fall into lethargic states. People get used to the easy life and only change when their bellies are empty.”
“So,” said Nancy, “our modern society, by making things too easy for people, leads to decadence. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, yes,” Carnegie laughed, “that is the irony of the post war planners; you know the people who set up the welfare state, what they didn’t know, what it would lead to.”
“And what’s to be done?” said Nancy, looking around.
“Well, as your other guest correctly intuited, what we need are policies that encourage people to go hunting, that is, to be responsible for themselves, and for others,” said Carnegie.
“What would that mean in practical terms?” said Ted, eyebrows raised inquisitively.
Carnegie puffed himself up. “A radical reform of the welfare system,” he said, “a change from a culture of receiving to one of giving.”
“Okay, okay,” said Ted, suspecting that the message was getting lost, “what you’re really saying is that the welfare system, which we think is helping people, is actually cruel and unfair.”
“Well, yeah,” said Carnegie, “it’s like giving your kids a diet of sugar and then complaining when they get fat and have diabetes and heart problems and what not.”
“And like getting other people to pay for the sugar! The hard-working majority,” said Nancy. She clapped her hands excitedly.
Professor Carnegie of the Big Bank Brain Trust beamed.
“Well,” she went on, “super to talk to you professor and now we would like you to present Matt with his Shining Sun award and this cheque for five thousand pounds.”
“It’s a pleasure, Nancy,” said Carnegie.
“Music!” cried Nancy. She started up a round of applause. The lights dimmed. Matt got up and had the professor hoop the medal over his head.
“How do you explain this gentleman, Professor Carnegie?” asked Ted, when the applause had died down. He put his arm round Matt. Gave him a squeeze.
“At the Big Bank Brain Trust our genetic investigators have isolated a gene on the Y chromosome called BSHT1 and we think that it contributes to heroic, hard, selfless toil in certain individuals, jokingly we call it the “master” gene but the more we investigate, the more it appears that really that is what moves evolution forward and really carries the rest of the herd with it. It’s what I call the human spirit gene.”
“Whoo,” said Nancy, eyes flashing and white teeth shining, “what do you think, Matt?”
Just then there was a ruckus in the audience. The camera swung round. Rab McCulloch was trying to shout something out. Matt stared at him. The big fuckin’ lassie. What the fuck was he doing here?
He was being huckled out by security.
“Don’t you think that when the intelligentsia abandons the people, then all society is lost, all civilization means nothing,” he shouted as he was dragged out.
“Well, really,” said Nancy quietly, shaking her head.
And then to the camera, “Nutter! Sorry, Matt, what were you saying?”
“I believe that we can overcome the selfish society,” said Matt.
“I like that,” said Ted. He gave Matt another squeeze.
“That we can break this cycle of dependency and regenerate this country,” Matt nodded at the camera, “regenerate the country,” he said again.
Another round of applause.
“Well, once again super to talk to you both,” said Nancy, intonation rising in all the wrong places, “and I hope you’ll be helping in the future with the Shining Suns project.”
“We’re setting up a BBBT centre in Edinburgh so we’ll be helping all we can,” said Professor Carnegie.
“Okaaaay,” said Ted, “Merry Christmas to you both, don’t forget to join us tomorrow for our special Christmas Eve show. Go easy.”
The cameras clicked off. The set lights went out.
Matt found himself being ushered off the set with Professor Carnegie. This was life. This was what he had been waiting for. He had booked himself into a nice hotel for Christmas. He would go back to the tower and pick up the cash from the Eadies’ flat. Then goodbye forever to the Circus. Aye, and good riddance.
“Hey, Matt,” said Carnegie, “we could maybe use you at the Big Bank Brain Trust. You know, in propaganda.” He winked at Matt. Handed him his card.
“I’ll be at the Edinburgh Hilton until mid-January, give me a phone and we’ll talk,” said Carnegie. And then, moving quickly, he grabbed Matt and looked into his eyes.
“You know the truth,” he said, “and now you’ll live it. Are you afraid?”
Matt shook his head.
“For there are things to fear in this life, and in what is to come,” said Carnegie.
He let Matt go then and smiled. Walked away.
“Remember to phone me,” he said over his shoulder.
Matt wasn’t afraid. Fear was superstition. Was weakness.
Matt’s mobile rang. It was Maggie Eadie. I saw you on the telly, Matt. You were wonderful. I love you.
Was a comet afraid? Was a mountain? Was an eagle? Matt was up there flying with the eagles. With the comets. A natural child of the skies. Of the universe. At one with the gods. An equal. A natural being. Awake. Fully awake. The hero in time. The ego made flesh.