Unexpected Papal Bull

It’s no secret that you’re incompetent at your job. We all are. It doesn’t matter how ‘competence’ is defined; you, like everyone else, are, have and always be, incompetent in what you do.

That is the little secret that keeps society afloat.

I’m not going to float any ideas of relative competence; everyone at some stage is more competent than someone else at a particular task. Relative competence is just an excuse for your lack of competence. So, at some stage you did better than someone else. Big hooey. What exactly does that mean? Are you always better? No. Have you been ‘better on average?’ I wouldn’t say ‘Yes’ unless you have some quasi-magical survey to prove it. The answer, therefore, is ‘No.’ Let’s not even broach the idea that you might be, in the future, better. An incompetent like you… No chance.

Worry not, though. I’m incompetent. Highly paid, well-esteemed and very powerful. And incompetent. There’s not a moment that passes that I don’t think ‘I could be doing this better, faster, harder and with more verve.’ Admittedly my ratio of mistakes-to-moments-of-genius is ridiculously weighted towards the genius side. When they come to write my history you can be sure that all the adjectives will be friendly, glowing and fabulous.

But I’m still incompetent. I shudder to say it, but I’m not perfect, and imperfection entails incompetence. I make mistakes. I wore a green tie with a teal suit once and, as an undergrad, admittedly, I wore those Swedish boating shoes that will never be fashionable.

Which is why I really do regret that we have to let you all go. As one incompetent to another I sympathise. As your pontifical overlord, however, I have a responsibility to the committee.

By which I mean to myself, since the committee has no sway over me, seeing that they, like you, are incompetent bastardos.

Be Seeing You.