And oh, it's better to know, oh it's better to know.

[venta]

Many years ago, I was chatting to someone at a folk festival.

A few years earlier, he'd been working as a security guard. He and his fellow-guard were chatting late at night about Fraggle Rock and they realised that they couldn't remember the name of the big furry monsters. They cudgelled their brains, but couldn't come up with the name.

They took a couple of deliveries and, as well as signing various bits of paper, they asked each of the drivers. None of them knew what the monsters in Fraggle Rock were called, either.

Shortly before the shift ended, one of them had cause to speak to the police. Being on good terms with their police liason person, they asked her too. She didn't know. She called across to her boss. He didn't know, either.

Half an hour later, they got a return call from the police. The big furry monsters in Fraggle Rock were called the Gorgs. How had this been found out? Simple. The Met had radio'd across all their cars which were out and about, and eventually someone knew.

This morning, before I'd even got out of bed, I discovered that I couldn't remember who Batfink's enemy was. I picked my phone up from the bedside table, looked at the Wikipedia page for Batfink. Hugo A-Go-Go.

I feel this is both fabulous, and slightly sad.

Comments

[venta.livejournal.com]

I can understand the concept of overworked in general, but having occasional slack times (eg when you're cruising around in a patrol car and can't fill in forms, but can answer a question). Also, I think of the complaints of form-filling among police, NHS, etc as being a much more recent thing. Not to say that police at other times haven't been over-worked, of course!