A Weapon Called The Word

At my old pub, we used to have a regular who pretty much defined the word "regular". He'd land at the same time every day, pretty close to three hundred and sixty five days a year, armed with a copy of The Times and a biro. He'd survey the ales on offer (we kept a selection of eight at all times), choose one that was reasonably pale and weaker than 4% ABV, and order his first pint of a daily two and a half. Then he'd take the seat nearest to the door - which was always well-illuminated by sunlight from the window during summertime and by a strategically-placed electric lamp during the winter - and after donning his glasses, he'd open the newspaper without a single glance at the headline, straight to the crossword.

Paul was a crossword fiend.

Not the nice simple crosswords you get in TV mags and puzzle books, abounding with clues like Opposite of love [4 letters], which have my co-workers scratching their heads and waiting till they get more letters in to have a concrete guess. Paul wasn't interested in those kind of puzzles. He was taken with The Times cryptic crossword, and every single day, no matter what the weather, he'd be in our pub and in his seat to tackle it.

When it comes to this chequered art, I largely take after my dad, who once answered the clue Continent [6 letters, beginning and ending in A], "Alaska". Or, to put it another way, I'm not very good at them. And the few times I ever looked at Paul's Times crossword re-assured me that this was never going to change. "Cryptic" doesn't really do the clues justice. They're more like the soundbites of a trivia-obsessed schizophrenic, phrased in the most flowery language imaginable. You could sit me down with a pen for the rest of my natural life, and I wouldn't be able to decipher teasers like Sexton debauches the lawnmower, perhaps? (8) or Raymond categorised his underpants. Hurrah! (7-5)

Paul tried to explain the logic behind the clues to me, once. By the time he was done, I felt like I'd been force-fed acid and made to watch Lost on a constant loop for three weeks. The solutions are seemingly so random as to defy belief, and apparently require a decent working knowledge of every single event and discovery since the Dawn of Man. I struggle to keep up with the offside rule.

Nope, crosswords ain't my thing. If I want to feel confused and hassled, I'll go driving round Birmingham, thank you very much.