The Screwtop Letter

The Screwtop Letter

The origin of this communication is somewhat mysterious; I awoke to find it on my pillow,

the morning after a rather taxing and emotional evening. While I am no demonologist,

I believe there are some rare insights contained in the following correspondence.

 

 

My own dear nephew Absinthium,

I was delighted to learn you had been assigned to the Intemperance Division of the Ministry For Gluttony. The head of your Alma Mater Dr.Gutrot asked me to correspond with you and share the benefit of my long experience. I told him I would be happy to oblige, as it is a long while since I was on active duty. The thrill of leading a soul to befuddlement, physical suffering and ultimate destruction are the only things I really miss about field work, since I was promoted by Our Father Below. Not wishing to incur his unappeasable wrath, I shall do my utmost in my present capacity. The key to the whole business of intemperance is pleasure. The pleasure engendered by imbibing alcohol is as old as human civilisation. It is, in the correct context and quantity one of the greatest earthly pleasures accorded to those revolting bipedal apes by the Enemy. As with all psychoactive substances, it is not the act of altering one’s consciousness that the Enemy objects to. Far from it, if it were so why allow plants with such potential to evolve? No, it is not the substances themselves which, when used responsibly, deliver some nauseatingly pleasant results, rather the human propensity for misusing them. Thanks to Our Father Below they are endowed with a predilection for abusing every freedom they are afforded by the Enemy. That, my dear Absinthium, is where we come in. While alcohol plays a central sacramental role in those appalling rites central to the worship of the Enemy, it is its very acceptability which makes it most open to abuse, along with its rather less satisfying cousin tobacco. Leaving aside for one moment the more exotic pleasures available to those simian flesh sacks, let us rather turn our attention to the mundane. The bored housewife with her bottle of sherry or gin, the stressed accountant with his whiskey bottle in the top drawer of his desk. These are the people who provide us with the bulk of our entertainment. The well documented antics of certain debauchees, while more spectacular are more infrequent and tend to serve as a warning to the more sapient members of that accursed race.  One of the crowning works for a tempter is idolatry of substance. That is to say, convincing the humans that it is the booze which actually generates happiness as opposed to being a mere mood enhancer. It all starts with a pleasant experience say that disgusting, excessive celebration devoted to the Enemy every December. The feeling of community, warm log fires, comforting smells; gingerbread, pine needles and so forth, generate a feeling of well-being. Add a glass of sherry or gluhwein into the equation and the idiotic little creatures attribute the pleasant feelings not to the context, but to the fluctuations in brain glucose. So it begins, no auspicious occasion is truly special without a bottle of fizz, no birthday or anniversary of any other kind truly commemorated without a pint. Although it isn’t the merrymaking which truly delivers them into our clutches. Rather, the belief in alcohol as the universal panacea, for everything which could conceivably afflict the human race. That is where your bored housewife and stressed accountant come in. They’ve fallen into the trap of believing that they can generate happiness or relaxation with nothing more than a little help from John Barleycorn. And so you have them. They drink when they’re happy, they drink when they’re sad. They drink in order to endure existence. Although that isn’t the only fun to be had with these jelly bags, with their internal flora and fauna. Farting and belching their way around the office the day after the night before. Generally ill-tempered, perceiving simple inquiries as excessive demands upon their stressed systems. Oh, the discord one can generate! Not to mention the discomfort. To see one of those bilious primates trying to retain their dignity whilst vomiting or else running the length of the office, buttocks clenched to avoid befouling their costly new trousers. Of course, the more serious complications arise from the potential for sexual indiscretions while inhibitions are lowered. Infidelities, VD, unwanted pregnancies ect...Much to the delight of Our Father Below. The acceleration of physical decline and the ensuing bitterness are also a rich vein of pleasure. There are hospitals full of young people ravaged by the excesses of alcohol. Clear eyed, dewy skinned young things metamorphosize into sallow, saggy, spent wraiths with bloodshot eyes and broken veins. Their engorged livers fit to explode. And so you see they become very angry, seeing little or no correlation between their actions and the consequences. They are more inclined to blame an uncaring capitalist society or if they have any faith at all, the Enemy. Needless to say our department is one of the most successful in the lowerarchy, the only thing we imbibe to toast our success is the sweet draught of human misery.

                                             Your affectionate uncle

                                               Screwtop