For Fear of Little Men

 

Josiah Oakshott, dressed in his full mourning attire, complete with top hat adorned with a black silk ribbon, sighed as he waited in the antechamber of the Balmoral Chapel of the crematorium.  The reason for his sighs, and the recipient of a meaningful glare (which was having no effect whatsoever) was his lead pallbearer, Archibald Thurble, who, along with the rest of his team, were sniggering over something on Archibald’s mobile phone, on the other side of the room.

Aware that sighing and glaring were having no meaningful effect, and desperate to bring some order to the proceedings, Josiah hissed,

“Archibald!”

There was no reaction from the group of black suited youths.  Josiah looked right and left, as if to check that no-one else would be affronted by his actions, before hissing again, in a loud ‘stage whisper’

“ARCHIBALD!”

Archibald Thurble looked up from his technology to see where the noise was coming from and became aware that his employer was looking at him in a state of barely contained fury.

“Did you want me, Mr. O.?” He asked, innocently.

Josiah jerked his head to indicate that Archibald should join him, and he duly plodded over.

“Summat up, Mr. O.?” Archibald asked, with a disarming grin.

“Yes, there is, Archibald” Josiah hissed through gritted teeth, “our purpose here is to maintain a dignified silence whilst the service is underway, until such time as we are called to remove the floral offerings and escort the lead mourners from the premises.  It is NOT, and should not be, an opportunity to snigger over risqué offerings on the internet!”

“Oh, there’s nowt risky about it, Mr. O.” Archibald reassured him, “I’ve got an anti-virus app on me phone and all sorts”

“I don’t mean ‘risky’, I mean ‘risqué’, as in of dubious taste and propriety” Josiah seethed.

“Oh, you mean summat mucky?”  Archibald chuckled, “Nah, it’s nothing like that.  We were just looking up how tall that Vladimir Pooh-tin bloke is”

“And why, precisely, were you investigating the height of the leader of the Russian Federation when you should have been maintaining a dignified silence?”

“Well, you see, Egbert reckons that all these nutters what go around invading places are always little blokes, that’s why” Archibald explained.

“Ah, I see” Josiah nodded, “well, leaving to one side the questionable taste of interrogating the internet during such a solemn occasion, I would have to take issue with your hypothesis”

“You what?”  Archibald looked suitably puzzled.

“I mean your conjecture that those who have taken a somewhat, aggressive stance, on the world stage, are, by nature, of a diminutive stature.  What has been known as the ‘Little Man’ theory of leadership, I understand”

“Well, yeah” Archibald nodded, “you’ve got your Napoleon, your Adolf Hitler…”

“From my research, I believe that Adolf Hitler was about 5’8” and Napoleon was around 5’7”, an entirely normal height for a man of his day.”

“Yeah, but, when you see them pictures of Hitler, everyone around him is way taller than he is” Archibald pointed out

“Indeed, but I think that owed more to his predilection for surrounding himself with persons who, to his mind, represented the ‘Aryan’ ideal and were, therefore, often over 6’ in height.”

“Weren’t they supposed to be blond and blue-eyed and all that, as well as tall with muscles and stuff?”

“I believe that was the ideal, yes” Josiah nodded.

“Well, Hitler wasn’t any of them things, was he?”  Archibald pointed out.

“I understand he had blue eyes but, otherwise, you are correct in your assumption.  By his own standards, he rather failed to make the grade” Josiah agreed.  “What did your research with regard to Mr. Putin discover?”

“Ah well, they reckon he’s 5’7” but some say he could be anything between 5’1” and 5’5”!  It says he’s a bit sensitive about his height, which brings me back to what I was saying before”

“In what regard?” Josiah looked puzzled.

“Well, it makes you wonder, don’t it?”

“It makes one wonder, in what respect?”

“If they should be allowed to run countries and stuff?”

“Who?”

“Little blokes!” Archibald explained.

“Your contention is that certain persons should be excluded from leadership positions on the basis of their height?” Josiah asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, I reckon that makes sense” Archibald nodded, vigorously.

“Apart from the obviously discriminatory nature of your proposal, you also seem to be confusing correlation with causation”

“Corry what?”  Archibald frowned.

“Correlation.  The degree to which two, apparently unrelated, items, may be said to move in tandem.  For example, as I recall from a course I attended some years ago, there is a strong correlation between the number of people travelling on cross-channel ferries and the number of ice creams sold in the U.K.”  Josiah beamed at his recollection.

“Oh right” Archibald nodded, “so them folk on the ferries down a lot of ice cream, do they?”

“No, Archibald, and that is precisely my point!”  Josiah rubbed a temple which was, unaccountably throbbing.  “One is not caused by the other.  The two statistics are entirely unrelated!”

Archibald looked at him blankly.

“Except for the fact that ferry crossings and ice cream sales both tend to peak in the summer.” Josiah pointed out, patiently. “By the same token, even if it were factually correct that Napoleon, Hitler and Mr. Putin were of below average height (which they were, and are, not) then it would not follow that shorter people were, inevitably, more inclined toward military aggression!”

“Well, you say that…” Archibald began, dismissively.

“I do say that, Archibald, and I am definite on this point.”  Josiah said, emphatically.

“Alright, what about George Bush?  I don’t mean his dad, I mean the son what invaded Iraq?”

“5’11”” Josiah responded, confidently. “His father, who liberated Kuwait from the Iraqi invasion, was also 5’11””

“Was he?  Oh right.”  Archibald looked crestfallen. “What about Stalin then?”

“5’6 allegedly, but possibly shorter”

“Ah, you see!” Archibald said, triumphantly.

“I hardly think that one example sustains your theory, Archibald” Josiah snapped.

From behind the closed doors of the Balmoral Chapel, the familiar strains of ‘Abide with me’ could be heard.

“You had better gather your team, Archibald.  We have work to do”

Archibald went back to his colleagues, nodding in Josiah’s direction, whereupon there was much evidence of phones being shoved back into pockets, and illicit cigarettes being nubbed out.  Shortly after, Archibald joined Josiah by the chapel doors as they awaited their cue.

“Course, they could be wearing them heels” Archibald observed.

Josiah turned to look at him, quizzically.

“Who could be wearing heels?”

“Hitler and all them” Archibald explained.

“Let me get this right,” Josiah began, as the chapel doors slowly opened, “you think that certain world leaders may be wearing height-improving footwear in order to conceal their homicidal tendencies?”

“Makes sense, when you think about it” Archibald said, darkly.

“You don’t let facts trouble you very much, do you, Archibald?” Josiah suggested, wryly.

“You can’t believe nothin’, not these days” Archibald shook his head, sadly.

“Don’t say that to the vicar!” Josiah whispered, and then, to the cleric making his way out of the chapel, “thank you so much for the service, Reverend”