Frankie

(Frankie) #1

WEIRD SCIENCE


four writers invent one thing


the world really needs.


By


Eleanor


Robertson






If I could invent one thing,


it would be an incredibly


large, bejewelled sword that


grants the power to drink beers


without getting a hangover.


On one level, this needs no


explanation. Who wouldn’t want


a huge, glittering weapon that


made dusty Sundays a thing of the


past? If you saw one on the side of


the road, you’d pick it up. If you


got one in the office Secret Santa,


you wouldn’t swap with the guy


who got a novelty stress ball shaped


like the poop emoji. In both these


situations, most people’s response


would be to shotgun a beer while


waving the sword around like a


demented King Arthur cosplayer,


screaming, “I am the once and


future king of all brewed alcoholic


drinks!” and “Catch me doing


yoga at 7.30am tomorrow, you


puny, liver-bound wowsers!”


The power to avoid hangovers is


something humanity has sought


ever since we went rooting around


in piles of fermenting fruit,


desperately trying to get enough


of a buzz to forget the cosmic


injustice of mortality. Every


alcohol-drinking society has


hangover cures, ranging from


the medieval European concoction
of raw eel and bitter almonds to the
Ancient Roman practice of eating
fried canaries. According to my
research, the best remedy is a bacon
and egg roll washed down with a
litre of coconut water, followed
by a few hours of begging your
housemate or partner to smash your
skull apart with a tyre iron. And
even this has only a modest effect.

Given this long struggle against
the demon drink, it seems natural
that I would invent a hangover-
curing device. What the people
want, the people get. If I were
in charge of a primary school, I
would put Coke in the bubblers.
Some say this makes me a sleazy
populist, concerned only with
satisfying the basest desires of the
crowd, and maybe that’s true. But
with the assistance of my sword,
I would be able to drink away
the sorrows caused by this insult
at no cost to my own health.

Why an incredibly large,
bejewelled sword, rather than a
more mundane object? Why not
a small plastic horse figurine,
or a poster for the 1984 movie
Gremlins, that performed the same
function? Because swords are cool.
Deep down, everyone wants to
own a cool sword they could use to
behead members of the royal family
for spurious, politically motivated
reasons. This desire persists even
though swords are very expensive,
bulky to store in an average-sized
home, and strongly associated with

weird video game nerds. In fact,
the more I think about how much
I want a huge, shiny sword with
an emerald the size of a hen’s
egg embedded in the hilt, the
less I even care that it can also
miraculously cure hangovers.

Imagine how cool it would be
to turn up to a house party
where you didn’t really know
anyone, with your impressive,
hangover-curing sword strapped
to your belt. I can already feel
my social anxiety melting away!
Can’t think of anything to say
except, “Uhh, so what do you do?”
No worries! You’ll have a line five
people deep waiting to ask why
you have a lethal, technologically
obsolete piece of warfare
weaponry hanging around your
waist. “Well,” you’ll say, sipping
your de-fanged beer, “it actually
cures hangovers.” Proposals of
marriage will surely follow.

The only downside I can see
here is that some jealous haters
might try to steal my sword. So
be it. Swords with mysterious
properties are naturally inclined
to be stolen, offered as prizes
for impossible quests, and
hidden away for hundreds of
years, only to be unearthed by
plucky young upstarts unable
to comprehend the true scope
of their powers. As long as I go
down in the myths as a formidable
sorceress able to drink more than
three beers in the course of a
night, I say: come what may.

writers’ piece
Free download pdf