according to a Mr Pitcher, writing in the Daily Telegraph.
Searching my memory, I do not remember claiming to be. I think I could in Queen Victoria’s reign modestly claim some authority on cirripedia, climbing plants, the formation of vegetable mould by earthworms, the expression of emotion &c. in humans, on the formation of coral reefs, on some aspects of the zoology of the world as seen during my circumnavigation on HMS Beagle and on the species question, but no, I do not recall fathering atheism.
I think that atheism has as many fathers and mothers as there are people who arrive at that philosophical position in life.
Mr Darwin – we know, and we know you know, and you know we know you know. But some of the self-elected ideologues who take your name in vain seem not to. I think a birching is in order. Or walking the plank. Or something.
It is curious that most people who want you to be the father of atheism are not themselves atheists. I’m not really sure what this means, although I suspect it says more about them than you.
Dr Gee you liberalism does you credit. The words ‘tank of hagfish’ popped unbidden into my mind over the devilled kidneys this morning.
My colleague Dr Janvier of Paris, who is an authority on hagfishes, tells me that when hagfishes in a bucket are agitated, they produce a most prodigious quantity of a peculiarly thick and noxious slime, until the general effect is of animated sausages squirming around in wallpaper paste. I guess that a suitably intrepid and hungry mariner could simply bake the lot to make a kind of toad-in-the-hole. Dr Janvier, however, says that bare-handed hagfish-wrestling might be an intriguing event at the Olympic Games. I nominate Professor D——— of Oxford for the first heats, though I submit that in the heat of battle it might become hard to tell the difference between one contestant and the other.
Henry would that be the Professor D of Oxford who gets this year’s ‘Bad Acting by a “celebrity” making a guest appearance in a TV Show’ award for his little cameo on Saturday’s Doctor Who?
I can only believe he got the job by being married to a Time Lord. Not only was the acting awful, he wasn’t even on subject.
‘My colleague Dr Janvier of Paris’ Is he to be preserved by God, like Professor Strabismus of Utrecht?
Celebrity Hagfish Wrestling (“CHW Slimedown!”) is the next big thing. We must form a production company. You younger gentlemen shall do all the work, I will encourage you from an easy chair, occasionaly waving my glass of sherry in approbation.
Henry would that be the Professor D of Oxford who gets this year’s ‘Bad Acting by a “celebrity” making a guest appearance in a TV Show’ award for his little cameo on Saturday’s Doctor Who?
Possibly, though I refused to watch that episode on principle. I didn’t want to see him and throw up over the children or, more to the point, my very nice sofa from Messers John Lewis.
Mr Darwin, do I understand you (from your Dr Strabismus comment) to be acquainted with Mr Justice Cocklecarrot? And a certain number of dwarves?
My earliest naturalizing involved flustra, so you can assume I was a Beachcomber.
So long as you were not reduced to staying at Mrs McGurgle’s while you were about your barnacle collecting (or whatever beachcombers do).
We Tumbelova.
You have won, I am lost for words now.