Reblogged from Tallis Steelyard:

Let us not beat about the bush. There are people whom you feel obliged to rescue from the results of their own ill-judged actions. In all candour they may be an idiot, but in some unquantifiable way, they are ‘your’ idiot. I know one should be firm with them and make them face up to the consequences of their ridiculous behaviour but if you did, they’d probably not live long enough to give you the satisfaction of saying ‘I told you so.’

In my case the individual is Lancet Foredeck. I have known him all my life, since we were snotty-nosed brats playing together in some of Port Naain’s grimier streets.

But on this occasion I felt he had excelled himself and had pushed back the barriers of suicidal stupidity further than any reasonable person might have thought they could be pushed.

He insulted Cruen Richpole. Now I’ve had dealings with Cruen Richpole, I’ve played cards with him when they needed somebody to make up the numbers. I’ve chatted to him occasionally; I’ve even produced work for him. To be honest I quite like him but I am forced to agree with Lancet, he is a criminal. Indeed whilst he might not personally break people’s legs, rob their homes or kill them, he employs competent people who do these things at his command. So technically, and I stress the ‘technically,’ Lancet is right in his accusations. Still I would ask whether these accusations need to be made. Firstly why accuse a man of being a murderer, extortioner and thief when everybody knows it’s true. After all it’s not as if he was setting himself up as the exemplar of moral rectitude. Indeed he rather revels in his professional reputation. This is largely because when reasonable people know he is apparently happy to use violence, they act accordingly and thus he needs to use far less. Secondly why make these accusations when he employs a lot of unpleasantly overly muscular people for the very purpose of beating people up or killing them?

But Lancet not merely made the accusation in a quiet but drunken conversation. He made it in writing, and not merely in a note jotted to a friend, he made it in print. Admittedly the Port Naain Literary Review might not be the first publication Cruen Richpole turns to when he takes his morning coffee, but still, people will doubtless send him cuttings if his name is mentioned. People are like that.

Continue reading: One stands just so. – Tallis Steelyard