Incommunicado

Helen Croney

I awoke to the sound of Judy the cleaner battering her hoover round the room, muttering mild expletives to herself as she navigated precariously around the heaped saucepans, empty wine bottles and piles of paper that littered the room.

As I peeked out from beneath my duvet to assess my chances of escaping to class unseen and unchastened, she whipped around in a sudden movement that belied her advancing years and stiff frame.

"Weel, you gonny get that soap I telt you aboot or no then?"

Uh oh. I sat up in bed, dishevelled, undignified, incapable of rational thought.

"Er, yes?' I ventured, "Although perhaps not, it depends on...er...". As I tailed off my roommate hastily emitted a theatrical snore, lest she also be called to account for our soap-purchasing decisions.

After extracting a promise from me to only purchase soap-that-comes--in-a-bottle for ever more, Judy departed in a whirl of dust and righteous indignation.

Decking myself out in an assortment of my own clothes and some fancy dress paraphernalia from the night before, I dashed out the door and sprinted along to the English building.

As soon as I arrived at my tutorial I knew that I had prepared for the wrong session. The clue was the 30 hefty copies of Paradise Lost resting on the desks of each of my fellow classmates, and the single copy of Donne's Songs and Sonets perched on my own table.

'Oh well', I thought, 'I'll just sit here quietly at the back for an hour taking notes and no-one will...'

"Helen, will you please be the devil?" I looked up to see my tutor beaming at me. Had he just called me a devil? I knew that forgetting to bring the correct text to class was considered an act of willful negligence, but name-calling was a bit strong.

"Come on, take up your position", he said, motioning to a couple of podiums at the front of the class. Thoroughly bewildered, I moved between the rows of seats and took my place at a podium, opposite a student generally considered to be the General All-Round English Genius of All Time.

"Helen, you are Lucifer, and John is God. Begin!" shouted my tutor enthusiastically.

I glanced nervously at John, who stood waiting expectantly, as indeed was the entire class. Whatever else was happening, it was clear that I was expected to speak first. Delay tactics were in order.

"Er, would you like me to do the voice?" I asked the tutor, who was obviously relishing this opportunity to display his am-dram directing techniques.

"Hmmm, good question, what would the devil sound like," he pondered.

"Growly?" piped up an enthusiastic front row student.

"Rumbly?" suggested another.

"Intricate?" offered one of the more intellectual of the bunch.

"Intricate? How can someone's voice sound intricate", questioned the 'rumbly' advocate.

As the discussion raged, I relaxed atop my podium, congratulating myself on my quick thinking avoidance measures. Too early, it would appear...

"OK" shouted God, A.K.A. John. "We don't need to do the voices anyway, that was not specified in the original course work materials."

"Of course, of course" said my tutor, "Right Helen, argue the case for the devil."

"But, the devil's wrong" I whimpered. "How can I possibly argue a case for him?"

"That's the whole point", sighed my tutor, rolling up the sleeves of his Garfield jumper in a gesture of impending impatience.

"OK..." I addressed John, in my normal voice. "So, it's good to do bad things."

"No. It's not." countered John.

I glanced helplessly at the tutor, who flapped his arms at me, as if to shoo the words from my mouth.

"Revenge is sweet", I said, dredging my memory for anything that might be related to Lucifer.

"Two wrongs don't make a right" smiled John, smugly.

"Helen, you are the devil from Paradise Lost, interrupted the tutor. This is the most exciting role of a lifetime - you get to argue the case for death, destruction, war!"

It was impossible. I was convinced that, had I even actually read the text we were supposed to be discussing, it would still have been impossible. I resorted to primary school tactics:

Er, please can I go to the bathroom?

On the way back from class I called my friend, determined to extract some sympathy and justification for my part in the mornings events.

The devil from Paradise Lost? Ooo, you lucky thing! Imagine everything you could do with that character!

Not what I wanted to hear. I tried my mum, a much safer bet when it comes to soothing my injured feelings.

Im sure you were wonderful, and youre quite right anyway, what a ridiculous thing to expect you to do!

Much better. Finally, my room-mate:

"Helen, youre justified in everything you do, and you were right to do what you did."

My ego was restored.

I spent the rest of the day shut up in the library reading Paradise Lost. I finished it at midnight, convinced that I had still been right to contest my suitability to play the part, although my reasons now were entirely different - I couldnt have done justice to that Devil.