Dear Word Paperclip,

There is a well-known saying along the lines of "a smile is a curve that sets many things straight". I would like to venture a modification: "a paperclip is a curve that sends many things straight. To Hell.".

I never knew that three centimetres of curved virtual wire would be capable of such wanton destruction but alas, I do now, to my great cost. What evil created you? What is your purpose, exactly? You may well be the antichrist. I should probably go repent in sackcloth and ashes.

I don’t remember exactly what it is I asked or more precisely, what you offered to do, but I can safely say that turning thirty-five thousand carefully and lovingly crafted, researched, thought out and edited words into alphabet soup is not quite what I had in mind. And stop twitching your eyebrows and blinking imbecillically at me: you know full well what you did. Besides I have no pity, empathy or benevolence; I'm an ex-squaddie and a lawyer after all- what part of the relevant area of my brain that hasn't been eroded due to prolonged exposure to our justice system is probably sitting in a jar on some RAMC Colonel's desk.

Shame on you, constantly breaking my concentration with your false promises of help. Your arrival amazingly always coincides with the conception of an earth-shatteringly brilliant idea, instantly erased by the “plink” of you appearing- derailing my train of thought in the general direction of willful homicide. Oh how I pine for my old typewriter. Well almost.

Men, unlike our female counterparts, can only concentrate on one thing at a time – the boffins at NASA or thereabouts have scientifically proved it[1], so interrupting me when I’m thinking is beyond sacrilege. It's up there with dancing the Macarena in the middle of Easter mass. On the altar. Wearing a mankini. It is downright evil. Really, it’s bad enough that a good chunk of masculine brain time is taken up trying to figure out the correct route into the pants of some loose-moraled wench or other, so the remainder is gold dust Mr. Paperclip.

You and your loudmouth, rotund, yellow cousin- you know, the one who arbitrarily pops up out of nowhere and decides to scream “Oh my gawd! No waaaay”[2], causing late night heart attacks as I wildly swivel in my chair, looking for the source of this disembodied ejaculation ("Don't toy with me, Evil One-SHOW YOURSELF") are slowly but surely driving me to drink. And after that, I'll probably finish the job and go properly insane. I'm not one for half-measures. Just imagine: TCM, a straightjacketed alcoholic madman, bouncing off the walls in some dungeon somewhere. I hope you’re proud of yourselves, you two. More importantly, I hope the walls are padded and the food is nice.

Up you pop again, with a lightbulb this time-no amount of Jedi self control can stop me from clicking you. I’m an information junkie, my thirst for trivia is unquenchable and I read everything that comes my way. I even read the sides of breakfast cereal boxes if nothing else is available. Do I have a scooby what riboflavin is or does? I do now.

Your lightbulb of knowledge draws me inexorably in, like a moth to a flame. What tasty nuggets of wisdom does Mr. Paperclip have in store for me now? The third secret of Fatima has already been revealed, after all. Has he found the bones of Shergar under my vegetable patch? The true identity of Jack the Ripper? The definitive number of primes in the Fibonacci sequence? A parking space on the University ring-road?

“It looks like you’re writing a letter...”

TCM

This Charming Man is a reluctant legal professional, an ex-professional soldier, ex-waiter, ex-deli sandwich maker, ex-expat, ex-boyfriend, ex-pretty-much-everything-else-under-the-sun and generally ex-hausted. Some also say, a slightly unhinged cantankerous moaner. Wait. This is Planet...err...moaner, right?

Every week he publishes a letter on Planetmona.com .  Planetmona is Malta's food, travel and review website, edited by Mona Farrugia.  If you're looking for a restaurant in Malta, this is where you should be. If you happen to come across TCM's brain jar, do let us know.

[1]I’m not sure how exactly, but I imagine they first noted the behavioural similarities between womenfolk and blue arsed flies and then, bearing in mind that flies have compound eyes which capture a zillion images at once, made the logical connection. QED.

[2] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9a3VzJQeCso