Andy Mcsmith

A good friend said something strange the other day. Her daughter, who is approaching her final school year, has asked if she can leave private school and go to the local sixth form college because she would like to make some new friends. Her mother was brimming with pride as she relayed this news — pride, and relief, that her progeny should be so open-minded as to volunteer for the adventure of breaking loose from her peer group and entering a place where she will meet teenagers who are working class. I should include a brief social profile, to put the anecdote in context. Our friend has a salaried public-sector job which brings her into contact with working-class clients every working day.

Here is an old paradox. A prisoner has been sentenced to death, his execution is to be carried out in not less than one week, but the authorities think it would be inhumane to make him go to bed knowing that in the morning he will be shot. Until the firing squad is ready, he must always be allowed to hope that he has at least one more day on this earth. But as the authorities meet to make the final arrangements, they realise they can’t delay the execution until Saturday, when the week will be up, because if they do then, on Friday, the prisoner will know that there’s only one day left and therefore he’ll know that he’s going to die in the morning.