There is a sinister saying in Scotland, “I could murder a fish supper,” and an even worse one, “I would kill for a battered fish and chips.” Neither of these is meant to express anything other than a keen desire to tuck in to a hearty meal of which you approve. (Post-Brexit it is apparently illegal to use the words ‘French fries’ without getting your fingers burned.)
In seeming contradiction of all known physical laws, time is heavy only when it is empty. And crude oil, which brings great wealth to nations which possess it, is worthless until it is converted into a profitable pollutant.
I’ve seldom met a metaphor I didn’t like or a hyperbole that didn’t bowl me over. But when it comes to contradiction I am in two minds, or no mind at all, according to some who call themselves friends. What, for example, is ‘a pleasing contradiction’? It surely can’t be the same thing as ‘a working holiday’, which sounds more like a contradiction in terms. Like saying ‘benevolent dictator’ or ‘sighted football referee’, or even — though this one is a bit of a stretch — ‘a truthful timeshare tout.’ (That’s alliteration, by the way.)
Of course there are situations in which contradiction is used to assuage the person contradicted. (The contradictee?) When a wife asks if her new dress makes her look fat, the proper response is a quick, emphatic and sincere denial from her husband. Matrimonial bliss reigns, and a sunny disposition is restored.
On other occasions, however, contradiction can be dangerous. If you tried telling a tyrant or a despot “Your Secret Police are ludicrously named, buddy, everyone knows about them,” you might find that avuncular Joe Stalin was a less than benevolent dictator, and you had lots to mull over on the truck to the gulag.
Some of life’s deepest truths are contradictory on the surface of our mortal pond. The more you fail, the more likely you are to succeed. Edison tried ten thousand times before getting a lightbulb to shed some light on the problem. I bet his face lit up as well. Which leads us neatly to “The more you learn, the more you realise how little you know.” Socrates said that (in Greek) and it may give us some insight as to why he was so depressed he drank a cup of hemlock down in one.
I’m not entirely convinced by the contradiction inherent in the idea that the more available something is, the less you will want it. Is it just me, or is that meant to apply equally to money, chocolate, ice cream, flattery, adulation, free kindle books and late-night opening for chip shops. Sometimes I could just murder a fish supper.
