Basil:
Right. Well. Here we are. “The Problem of Overconfidence in Metaphors.” I assume we’re not literally meant to solve it. That would require organisation.
Harry Hoo:
Moment please. Honourable Mr. Fawlty, you misunderstand. Metaphor very dangerous when left unattended. Like candle in curtain shop. Or British hotel in hands of tall angry man.
Basil:
I’ll have you know my metaphors are perfectly serviceable! I once compared the front desk to a black hole — things go in, but nothing comes out. Very apt.
Halliday’s Ghost:
Yes, well. The problem isn’t metaphor per se. It’s when metaphor substitutes for theory. “The cline,” they say. “Let’s replace system with cline.” As though one can simply slip strata into something that sounds like a yoga stretch.
Harry Hoo:
Amazing! Theory once strong like mountain. Now wobbly like jelly on cline. Metaphor go too far.
Basil:
Exactly! Take Martin’s cline — one moment you’re in L1, then you sneeze and you’re in L1.5, sipping cocktails with a dangling preposition. You can’t run a hotel that way!
Halliday’s Ghost:
My dear Basil, you couldn’t run a sentence that way.
Basil:
Oh that’s rich coming from a man whose theory involves “instantiation of potential”! What is that, quantum grammar?
Harry Hoo:
In quantum grammar, waiter both serve and forget soup at same time.
Halliday’s Ghost:
I did once consider a cline. I left it in the bin. It was cuddling “emergence.” The problem is not metaphors themselves — it’s the license they give people to make nonsense sound profound. “Workspace,” “motif,” “mediating language.” These are not terms. These are hall passes for confusion.
Basil:
Yes, it’s like Manuel describing the wine list. “Red wine. White wine. Possibly wine-shaped idea.” And then someone publishes it.
Harry Hoo:
Many honourable metaphors begin humble. Then become… metaphor mafia. Take over theory. Demand loyalty. Break kneecaps of coherence.
Halliday’s Ghost:
Indeed. One must ask: What is this metaphor doing here? Is it clarifying structure? Or just running amok with a badge saying “L1.5: Theory Officer”?
Basil:
That’s exactly it! These clines — they just blur responsibility. Suddenly, no one knows who’s in charge: theory, description, or the guy with the PowerPoint.
Harry Hoo:
Metaphor should be servant, not emperor. When metaphor become ruler, theory go on holiday. No postcard.
Halliday’s Ghost:
Hear, hear. We need a return to semantic discipline. Not metaphorical free jazz played on a lexicogrammatical saxophone made of noodles.
Basil:
Right. So. Action plan. Step one: revoke Martin’s metaphor licence. Step two: return theory to qualified drivers. Step three: lock the cline in a well-labelled box.
Harry Hoo:
And no more motif unless motif explain something.
Halliday’s Ghost:
Or at least behaves like a category. Is that so much to ask?
[The light flickers. Halliday begins to fade.]
Halliday’s Ghost (echoing):
Remember: when everything is fluid… nothing holds meaning. Goodbye, my strata…
[He vanishes. Basil checks under the table. Harry bows respectfully.]
Basil:
Well. That went rather well. For a haunting.
Harry Hoo:
Amazing. Now… who order soup?
[Curtain falls. A sign descends reading: “Metaphors were harmed in the making of this performance.”]
