If I Ruled the World


Ever had that vaguely megalomaniac fantasy that if you ran things, you’d do a better job? That if you ran the Government, the World, the United Nations and say the Royal Automobile Club, things would be better.

Sure you have. And mostly this is harmless, if you’re me or you. And unless the ‘you’ in question is President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe, then that fantasy will come to nothing and no one will get hurt.

This is where games like CIVILIZATION are useful. They allow us to indulge our fantasies of control, order, domination and power without any consequences.

So where am I going with this? There’s a FaceBook app of this nature called Knighthood. As near as I can tell there’s fighting, dragons, building of castles etc. I clicked ‘yes’ in a rash moment, many months ago.

Lately, I keep getting messages like the one below, in my Facebook feed.

Firstly, I am nobody’s ‘liege’. I am a citizen of a democratic nation. Okay, its a constitutional monarchy, but work with me, here. Monarchs are B.S., man.

Secondly, the workers need to use their initiative, appoint a leader, put together a steering committee, form some kind of self-regulating guild, do some marketing and look for other work. I’ve got a castle. I don’t need another one. In fact I’m not that happy with the one I’ve got. I really didn’t want so many parapets, merlons and embrasures. And where do I hide the trebuchet when we have guests over to Castle Triv?

Thirdly, if I did get involved in the ‘what shall we build next’ part of this, I’d say a mix of accommodation and retail with the ocassional firework factory and smelting plant to keep the locals on their toes.

And fourthly, I can’t get involved in an application that involves my ordering around serfs and peons and squires etc. I gotta be looking after Number 1, huh? And history shows us that these plebs and groundlings are malcontents bent on overthrow. But not organised philosophical overthrow like the ones we read about in the political tracts of the 19th Century.

Nah, these peasants think that slipping poison into my mead is the way to get ahead. They’re small-time, baby. They’re blue-collar criminals in a world that worships the white-collar lawbreaker. And I couldn’t get a match for ‘food taster’ on so I’d be wasting precious hours sending my venison down to the lab to give it the all clear.

Elevate the Insignificant,

Mr Trivia

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