Day 90

5.03: Let’s begin the week with a meditation on genetics. Before the election, I read Ben Goldacre’s (unsuccessful) plea to the electors of Oxford to keep Evan Harris in Parliament. He lost by 176 votes, and was run out of town by a pitchfork-wielding mob of halfwits and Branch Davidians.

But what captured my imagination was a comment on the Goldacre  blog, arguing the case for testing on animals. It concludes:

We share orders of magnitude more than divides us. Shave a mouse, shorten the snout, adjust the limbs, grow it a bit and you have a pot bellied, whiskered human. Actually shave it and nip and tuck, nude mice are heavily wrinkled, mice are very loose in their skins.

Let’s recap. Shave a mouse? Righto Captain Brainwave. Good. Now – You are trained in plastic surgery, I take it? Right – Give it a nose job. Nice work. Has anyone ever told you you have pianist’s fingers? OK, so now I want you to break its legs. Here’s the hobbling post, and a hammer. Capital. And finally we stretch him on this stretching device, and hey presto. Looks just like me. But saggier. Me before the tummy tuck and face-lift let’s say.

Now go forth, giant knee-capped mice, and do your bit for medical science.

6.56: Back to chapter one, and it’s a strange feeling. The good news is writing a story’s much easier when you’ve written it already. The bad news is, the first four chapters are shot through with contradictions and impossibilities. I now need to superintend the diplomatic talks between my premise and plot, and see if we can reach a settlement. From now on I will be referring to my desk as Camp David.

~ by David Thorley on May 10, 2010.

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