Holmes sweet Holmes
20/01/2010 10:45:00 a.m.
SHERLOCK Holmes is a cot case.
When he first came to literary life in 1887, he was a revolutionary breath of fresh air. Readers found him entrancing, victims of the justice system saw him as a beacon of hope, and forensic science really took off.
The most incredible thing of all was that many people genuinely believed he was a real person and if you went to his stated address 221B Baker Street in London, then you’d have a good chance of actually meeting the great man and his trusty friend Doctor Watson. People still write to him there today.
But Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t last five minutes in modern Wellington. For a start, both he and Watson would be repeatedly prosecuted for smoking in a workplace and on public transport.
Holmes would be arrested following police surveillance of his flat, and convicted for possession and consumption of classified drugs, notably morphine and cocaine. His rooms, I am sure, would meet all the criteria for a home-bake laboratory. And Wellington parking wardens, of course, would bleed him dry for expired warrants, incorrect wagon-tethering and non-payment of fines.
He would be hammered for possession of unlicensed firearms, fighting in a public place, impersonation of others, and fraudulent use of documents. And you could add consorting with criminals and interfering with police investigations.
Worse than that, he would be hounded in the media for sexist comments, racial slurs, and dressing like a reject from the World of Wearable Arts “Freak” section. Cultural conservatives would slam his thinly-disguised homosexual rapport with Doctor Watson, who himself would be struck off the Medical Register for being an incurably stodgy, uber-British sycophant capable of infecting impressionable Kiwis.
Still, the latest film Sherlock Holmes looks stunning in the shorts. I can’t wait to see it. I remember 25 years ago, Jeremy Brett played a traditional Holmes with passionate genius (sadly, leading to a mental collapse). The latest film, I think, will be revolutionary in terms of bringing fun, friendship, terrorism-fighting, and rampant heterosexuality into the mix. None of these things are necessarily ideal in themselves, but they show a wonderful openness to new ideas. And we need that in Wellington, do we what.
If Holmes opened an office, let’s say in upper Cuba Street, and managed to escape arrest, I would ask him to apply his investigative brilliance to solving these everlasting mysteries.
1) Why is there a Bucket Fountain in our great city and who put it there? 2) Why do Wellingtonians turn into transvestites at the Rugby Sevens but dress like mourners for the rest of the year? 3) Is the evil Dr Moriarty behind the naming of “Civic Square” as a nasty attempt to strangle the imaginations of local people? 4) If most of our buses have “Sorry” on the front, then what heinous crimes are the passengers so sorry for? 5) Why is it always so windy?
I suspect he would suck deeply on his pipe, and reply: “Pass.”
When he first came to literary life in 1887, he was a revolutionary breath of fresh air. Readers found him entrancing, victims of the justice system saw him as a beacon of hope, and forensic science really took off.
The most incredible thing of all was that many people genuinely believed he was a real person and if you went to his stated address 221B Baker Street in London, then you’d have a good chance of actually meeting the great man and his trusty friend Doctor Watson. People still write to him there today.
But Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t last five minutes in modern Wellington. For a start, both he and Watson would be repeatedly prosecuted for smoking in a workplace and on public transport.
Holmes would be arrested following police surveillance of his flat, and convicted for possession and consumption of classified drugs, notably morphine and cocaine. His rooms, I am sure, would meet all the criteria for a home-bake laboratory. And Wellington parking wardens, of course, would bleed him dry for expired warrants, incorrect wagon-tethering and non-payment of fines.
He would be hammered for possession of unlicensed firearms, fighting in a public place, impersonation of others, and fraudulent use of documents. And you could add consorting with criminals and interfering with police investigations.
Worse than that, he would be hounded in the media for sexist comments, racial slurs, and dressing like a reject from the World of Wearable Arts “Freak” section. Cultural conservatives would slam his thinly-disguised homosexual rapport with Doctor Watson, who himself would be struck off the Medical Register for being an incurably stodgy, uber-British sycophant capable of infecting impressionable Kiwis.
Still, the latest film Sherlock Holmes looks stunning in the shorts. I can’t wait to see it. I remember 25 years ago, Jeremy Brett played a traditional Holmes with passionate genius (sadly, leading to a mental collapse). The latest film, I think, will be revolutionary in terms of bringing fun, friendship, terrorism-fighting, and rampant heterosexuality into the mix. None of these things are necessarily ideal in themselves, but they show a wonderful openness to new ideas. And we need that in Wellington, do we what.
If Holmes opened an office, let’s say in upper Cuba Street, and managed to escape arrest, I would ask him to apply his investigative brilliance to solving these everlasting mysteries.
1) Why is there a Bucket Fountain in our great city and who put it there? 2) Why do Wellingtonians turn into transvestites at the Rugby Sevens but dress like mourners for the rest of the year? 3) Is the evil Dr Moriarty behind the naming of “Civic Square” as a nasty attempt to strangle the imaginations of local people? 4) If most of our buses have “Sorry” on the front, then what heinous crimes are the passengers so sorry for? 5) Why is it always so windy?
I suspect he would suck deeply on his pipe, and reply: “Pass.”
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