2004-12-10 - 5:24 p.m.

I don�t get enough work done at home. So I bought a laptop, in the hope that working in another environment would be more productive. Some vague notion of sitting in a caf�, wreathed in smoke and sipping a cappucino, writing my masterpiece. It�s a romantic idea, but I hate smoking and I don�t drink coffee. And frankly the writing�s a bit of a longshot. Still, today I find myself in Hammersmith Library, able to write an as-it-happens diary entry for the first time. And, excitingly, up against it, as I�ve only got 29% of my battery left. It�s like some kind of creative trolley dash, in which the only acceptable observational gems are the ones I can commit to virtual paper in the allotted time. Like calling this a 'creative trolley dash'. And observing the fact that I�ve called it a 'creative trolley dash'. And observing the fact I�ve observed the fact that I've ca- hmm, you can see why I fall to pieces during timed games of Scrabble.

So. Coffee shop, too distracting to work; office: nice idea but probably financially unrealistic, though something may be on the cards there; library: sounds perfect. But the reading room of Hammersmith Library is, I think, quite typical of the modern urban library in that it is populated by two types of people. Students and lunatics. As I speak there are about 25 people in this room. There�s a big table at one end for reading newspapers and the rest of the place is filled with desks placed in fours, two pairs facing each other, for maximum intrusiveness. Most of the people in here are students. Almost exclusively middle eastern, asian and far eastern, poring over ring binders, scribbling in notebooks, trying to make sense of photocopied handouts bearing diagrams and formulae which I suspect make as much sense to them as a spirograph does to a marmoset.

But you want to know about the lunatics. I think 'educationally subnormal' or 'mentally challenged' are the currently acceptable terms for these folk, so bearing in mind reader sensitivity, I shall call them nutters. I think they come here because it�s warm, light and free. Maaan, loonies love libraries, don�t they? It seems we�ve possibly been issued with two today. Over at the reading table is a man, perhaps in his fifties, with glasses, peppery, curly collar length hair surrounding a substantial bald patch, a ruddy complexion and a greying moustache. He shall hereafter be known as Andy Sipowicz. Andy keeps looking around suspiciously - yeah, like I�m not doing that - and casting his finished newspaper onto the desk with disdain before picking up another. A little earlier, he burped loudly and kept reading as if nothing had happened. All right, this is low-level bonkers. But contestant number 2 is a whole other bucket�o�la-la juice. This man is perhaps in his forties, black, wearing a camouflage jacket over khaki jumper and trousers, with a red neckerchief and a blue scarf worn around his head like an old woman. I present, Black Army Old Woman Man. BAOWM is a restless one. Up and down, taking books from the shelves with much to-do, scribbling notes and tearing up bits of paper. As if to reassert his nutter status, a few minutes ago he waved his arm as if trying unsuccessfully to snap his fingers for a few seconds before carrying on with his work. But mousemilk, perhaps he just had cramp. Yes, cramp in his mental brain.

He then got up and strode to a shelf from which he pulled three large dictionaries - one German, one Russian, one Spanish, before returning to his desk and laying them on the desk opposite. Perhaps he�s preparing for Madfest �05, an international conference at which crazies of all nations exchange ideas on how best to shout at fences and then eat their own gloves. No. After doing a little more �work� he picks up the three unconsulted dictionaries, goes back to the shelf�walks away again, round some more desks to a point further down the shelves, pulls out a chair and drops the books either onto the chair or floor (I can�t tell which, there�s a student in the way) with a thump. Back to his workstation and there�s a surprise in store for BAOWM. A newcomer has elected to sit next to him, despite the availability of several other desks. Now, your typical loonbag is so used to folk sitting as far as way as possible that this encroachment into his personal madspace has quite thrown him off his stride. He uses a book as a shovel, thoughfully clearing his new neighbour�s desk by coaxing off it the torn up scraps of paper that have amassed there during his morning�s work. Perhaps freaked out by not being treated with suspicion by someone, he soon decides to move desks. Finding a suitable berth near the shelves, he prepares his space by laying a large plastic Primark bag down on the desk like a tablecloth. Where the bugger did that come from? Has this guy brought a prop box? What�s he going to pull out next, an armadillo on wheels?

READER�S INTERJECTION:
All right, we get it. Let�s all laugh at the crazy man. What hope is there for the mentally disadvantaged with poisonous attitudes like yours re-inforcing stereotypes and making it even harder for people suffering from this kind of illness to be integrated back into society?

Yeah. That�s all very well. But you�re not the one trying to get some fucking work done.

Look, most sane people react in the same way to the irrational behaviour of another. They look embarrassed, they try not to make eye contact, they move away. So what I want to know is, why can�t the crazies go head to head? How do they always sit next to the people least equipped to deal with them, like a cat at a party heading straight for the lap of the felinephobe? Why can�t they weird each other out instead? Wacko-on-wacko action, that�s what I�m talkin� �bout. Maybe they could compete for a knock-out trophy. And then the winner could fill it with torn up bits of paper and dandruff and punch it. These could be timed matches where each contestant scores points for genuinely nonplussing his opponent. Or marathon endurance events, where the loser is the first nutjob to run out of juice.

Like my battery is abo

Profilage - Previosity - Nextitude