If your name’s not down you can’t come in
THERE’S this club I know. It’s very exclusive, very highfalutin. And even though I’ve been there a few times I’m still not sure what it is they do there. It definitely involves shouting, a little jeering, the stomping of feet, and the thumping of backs, but other than that it’s a mystery.
Obviously it can’t have been that exclusive if they were letting the likes of me in, but that was all before the new owners took over. These lads want to return the club to its glory days, to a time when being part of it actually stood for something.
What this means is a strict door policy, and an even stricter chucking out policy any blackguarding and you’ll be out on your ear, no questions asked.
Like I said, what they do in there is anyone’s guess, and I suspect it’s not all they say it is; but if you really fancy checking it out then listen up, because some of you might actually be the type of members they’re looking for.
Firstly, you’ve got to be really clever, or at least have a piece of paper which says you are. And it has to be a certain type of cleverness; you’ve got to be good with numbers, know a lot about science and how things work, be able to dismantle a jet engine and put it back together in less than eight minutes. If you’ve got some niche knowledge, like, for example, the ability to count backwards from ten thousand really fast, that might work in your favour too.
The next criterium is knowing the language. From what I can gather their’s is the common tongue, but they don’t like it when people put their own twist on it, combine it with exoticisms from other clubs. Therefore, my best advice is to remain quiet until questioned, and even then only reply in brief, monosyllables.
The next challenge is having someone to vouch for you, someone from deep within the club. And this can’t be any old member, they too must be really clever, even cleverer than you. If you know of such a person, and they are willing to put in writing what a decent sort you are, then you are almost there; the doormen have sized you up, checked your ID, declared you sober, and are in the process of parting their ways, leaving just enough space for you, and only you, to squeeze through.
One last thing though. It’s all very well being clever, knowing the lingo, and having someone to attest to the quality of your character. But what can you bring to the club, how will you contribute to its upkeep and ensure it maintains its good name?
You can point to your winning charm, your good looks and your sartorial elegance all you like, but they what they really want to hear is you’ve got loads of money and are willing to spend it in their club.
Telling them won’t be enough however. Yes, you’re going to have to take our your wallet, while everyone queues behind you, and show them how much money you have. A couple of fifties won’t cut it either. They want to see hundreds, a couple of decent bankcards, a little extravagance; but not too much, they don’t want you showing them up.
But what they don’t tell about you their club is that even if you do manage to get inside you’ll never really be accepted. Sure, they’ll come up and shake your hand, welcome you aboard, exchange small talk, but you’ll always be an outsider.
The likelihood is that you’ll end up sitting at a table with the other newcomers, all nervously huddled in a corner, whispering among yourselves, careful not to glance in the wrong direction lest you rile those who were there first.
Because it’s their club, and it’s always been their club, and the reason they’re so goddamn protective of it, so precious and pious, is because it’s the only club they have left.
Once upon a time they had loads of clubs, dozens of them, scores, but rival club owners drove them away. Now they just have the one, a moody, fractious joint where people are either debating going home or talking about starting up their own club.
And if truth be known, this effort to make the old club more exclusive, to return it to its golden days, could end up having the opposite effect. It might close it down, a lack of business forcing the owners into a serious rethink, their club in such a wretched state they end up begging people to come in, going hand in cap to those they’d once turned away, regardless of how clever they are, what language they speak and how much money they have in their pocket.