Rab McNeil: Love is nature's way of conning people into having children

Other people who should be avoided are those who threaten to marry you and, where suchlike people are also exponents of ostentation, you have a recipe for disaster. This was the case with the poor fellow who ruined his intended’s university graduation by getting down on bended knee in front of the assembled mob of proud families who had no skin, as it were, in his game.

The incident has sparked a “furious debate” (definition: something that newspapers wish was happening but rarely is), with all sorts of experts throwing in their tuppence worth and variously deploying vituperative or ameliorative words like “creepy”, “coercive”, “controlling”, “ultra-romantic”, “sweet”, and “horribly selfish”.

Critics point out that such ostentatious, public gestures make it difficult for the lady-person under advisement to say “no”, while defenders of the action accuse complainers of being “feminist killjoys”.

Rab McNeil: I'm thinking about not paying my tv licence

Though I once marched for women’s rights, I stopped supporting these once they were attained, so it would be hard to define me these days as a feminist, even if I accept that “killjoy”, generally speaking, would provide no cause for a defamation lawsuit.

I have to say also that, not being a liberal, I do not habitually make excuses for wrong-doers and ne’er-do-wells; nor do I share the traditional liberal contempt for victims, in this case of an embarrassing marriage proposal.

However, regarding the miscreant (whose blushes name-wise I will spare, as I think he’s already in deeper than he might have wanted publicity-wise), we should allow for the fact that his gesture may have been misplaced and that, doubtless, it was occasioned by the derangement brought on by love, an illness frequently suffered after too much heat and chocolate.

Most top scientists will tell you that love (basically sex with knobs on) has a deleterious effect on rational thought. It is nature’s way of conning people into having children, something that no one in a sane and stable state of mind would ever do.

Nor would anyone in their right mind have shown their love in a very public way, as happened here, and it’s generally agreed among leading moralists and other inebriates that anything to do with “romance” should be perpetrated in the privacy of one’s own home.

Public snogging, for example, was banned in Scotland by John Knox, but you still see it happening from time to time, usually after alcohol has been copiously inhaled by the participants and, as I know to my cost, no amount of tutting will put a stop to the practice.

I should say, of course, that as a man of the world, I’ve had more than my share of close shaves with marriage and, indeed, have a drawer full of proposals in the filing cabinet (I always insisted that the request was put in writing, with a stamped-addressed envelope, and have been known to reject them on grounds of grammar alone).

All that said, I wish the newly engaged couple many years of happiness together. I think it will be incumbent on the lady of the house to put her foot down, however, and to make it clear to her spouse that ostentatious behaviour will not be tolerated a second time.

We need canned laughter

GRIM news, as it’s reported that canned laughter can make poor jokes on television shows seem funnier than they actually are. I think something analogous occurs with the canned groaning soundtrack that accompanies this column.

Public laughter is itself a vexed moral issue. Even John Knox failed to ban it. The reason may be that laughter can often creep up on one unawares, such as when one rounds a corner and witnesses the frog-like legs of a flabby, Lycra-clad, sweat-soaked cyclist pumping away furiously as he (they’re nearly all male) tries to outrun a majestic and dignified bus.

In pubs in Scotland, I’ve often drawn irate stares from uptight people for laughing uproariously amid a small circle of friends. Can’t help it.

But I don’t laugh out loud at the pictures and never attend shows by comedians because I would feel forced to do so. Indeed, I’m always amazed at the way that people at public shows laugh disproportionately at the least funny thing, perhaps because they’ve paid and want their money’s worth.

Given public events this week, it might be worth Britain investing in a canned laughter soundtrack, which we can put on while gently weeping in a corner somewhere.

Mass search for Nessie

THEY’RE persecuting Nessie again. Admirably keeping herself to herself, the poor beastie rarely gets a moment’s peace from dafties with deranged dreams and heaps of expensive camera equipment.

In September, a Storm Loch Ness event has been planned, with tens of thousands of pragmatic and astute souls threatening to take part in a mass search for the sociophobic plesiosaur.

This follows a similar event at Area 51, site of the US Air Force base in Nevada where the world’s collection of alien beings is held. From what I can gather the “stormers” didn’t get very far there but, here, the Royal National Lifeboat Institution has expressed concern at the prospect of multifarious loons blundering forth with water wings into the dangerous waters of the loch.

The RNLI has put forth some “quick facts” about Loch Ness, such as its depth being two and a half times the height of Big Ben, in the hope of inspiring some sobering perspective, but one fears the worst, particularly if alcohol is imbibed.

It would be laugh-out-loud funny, though, if Nessie did appear, not roaring and raging and thwacking her tail, but jumping joyfully in and oot the water like an ostentatious dolphin.