There's not much going on in my head most of the time. In fact, I like nothing better than dozing, or resting, or even just daydreaming. Perhaps, when I'm feeling energetic, I'll have a cup of tea and a cookie, and read a good magazine, but that's about it really.
Karl Pilkington, therefore, is something of a hero of mine. Last night, Karl featured in a documentary on Channel 4, 'Satisfied Fool'. Karl wondered if he'd be any happier today if he'd worked harder at school, or if he was smarter. The basic premise of the programme, therefore, was that Karl would meet four smart people, in order to find out. Sadly, Channel 4 could only find three, so Karl initially had to meet Germaine Greer. Now, such an engagement would fill me with the enthusiasm I normally reserve for having an improvised explosive device inserted into the scroticular groove between my testicles. Karl, however, seemed unperturbed by Greer's shrill anti-logic, and even managed to impress her by recounting the time he tried to cook some sausages in the toaster.
Next on the agenda was Heinz Wolff. Karl pointed out that aliens must be more intelligent than us because they have better, faster space-ships. Professor Wolff was both non-plussed and angered by this, so Karl moved on to meet David Icke, who, as Karl pointed out, had once claimed that he was the son of God, "and that the Queen was a lizard, or something."
Icke, in fact, proved to be a top bloke. He asked Karl if there are times when he feels he'd rather be smart, and Karl explained that when he tells a story in the pub, about, say, a girl who eats only mud, people respond by saying it's rubbish, and he often has to back-down. "Socrates," said David, "once said that wisdom is knowing how little we know," to which Karl retorted, "You see, that's the sort of clever thing I want to be able to quote in the pub!"
So, finally, Karl met Will Self. After taking Karl up what appeared to be eight flights of book-festooned stairs, Self interrogated Karl, and, when Karl finally admitted he'd rather be happy than smart and unhappy, Self told him to "Fuck off then". Self escorted him back to the front-door, and remarked that he didn't know whether to "kick you all the way down the street, or strip you naked, and bathe you in palmolive oil." Karl retorted, "Both of those sound bad to me."