Soliloquy

Not knowing I was about to make a discovery, I saw an ad for paid medical trials pasted to a phone box.

They were searching for people who spoke to themselves out loud, so said the poster.

“Well,” I told the empty air around me, “I’m certainly qualified to apply for that.”

And the research team agreed, because I was accepted to join the trials.

Their intention, as was explained to me and the roomful of other successful applicants, was to discover what people spoke about most to themselves; what emotion was most likely to encourage talking to oneself: whether it be anger, disbelief, joy, what have you . . .

We sat in the lecture theatre listening to a woman and a man prattle on about what we could expect, when all I really wanted was to get going, to start prattling to myself.

“Get on with it,” I muttered under my breath.

At least I thought it was under my breath, but apparently I muttered loud enough to be heard.

“What did you say?” the bloke on the stage said.

“Me?” I replied. “I was just talking to myself.”

Anyway, they took it as insubordination and I was dismissed.

On the way back home, I chatted all kinds of things about them, mostly expressing disdain and mirth, which I wrote to tell them about.

To be fair, they did send me a £10 Love2Shop voucher for the feedback.

vss #28