There was a wise man who once said ‘he who maketh an enzyme angry, take upon him the burden of a tarantula’. No one knew what this meant, for the man died and the tarantula moved to Sweden for family reasons, but it was a major philosophical step. Surely, it should be read that the real conflict with the ‘self’ is digestion. Enzymes are really quite exciting if the Grand National is not on, and they are always on hand to clean up the spillage in aisle two. Some, therefore, may ask why they are giving so little credence in the world of science. The answer is simple: Mr Torte. He gives enzymes a bad name; for all of the strong and emphatic work of enzymes, notably in Strathclyde where enzymes are necessary for an efficient transport system, Torte’s enzymes are lazy and corrupt. For a bribe of a thousand or two, Torte’s enzymes will ignore sinews of celery and concentrate solely on the digestion of veal, such is the institutional bureaucracy of his gut. Scandal! There has even been rumour of an enzyme ‘ring’, illegally providing Earl Grey with FastTrack tickets to avoid the congested small intestine. When we struggle in lectures to grapple with ideas, or try to justify our existence in Yum cafe, maybe we should spend more time digesting this real conflict with the self.
