It’s well known that the barnacle compensates for its lack of mobility – once it is clinging to a ship – by being prodigiously well-endowed in the mating department. What is much less well known is how barnacles attach themselves to ships in the first place. This is one of nature’s miracles. Barnacles have special echo-sensing membranes which detect ships from miles away. As a ship approaches the barnacles detach themselves from the rocks on the ocean bed below. Using unique internal sacs which extract oxygen from the water and turn it into compressed air, they swarm upwards in huge flocks and finally flip themselves round to lock onto the ship’s underside. This prodigious feat almost always happens at night, so it has never been captured on film. The point about barnacles is that once they are locked on to the bottom of ships in vast numbers they slow down the vessel and are impossible to remove without a tedious dry-dock scraping operation. As with ships, so with the Diplomatic Corps. Each capital city has its own serene group of ambassadors. And each serene group of ambassadors has its barnacles, people who attach themselves to the Corps and intend to stay firmly attached.
New ambassadors in town are especially vulnerable. After presenting credentials you arrive at one of your first national day receptions. Scarcely are you armed with your first drink before an Unctuous Barnacle tracks you down. ‘Your Excellency, welcome to Transylvania. My name is Sasha Limpit. Allow me to present my card and the DVD of my latest exhibition which opens next week – I do hope you be able to join us!’
Having no idea who this fellow is, you politely accept the card and DVD, and are thereby well and truly barnacled. Mr and Mrs Limpit are now your best friends. They pester you for invitations to your own receptions, and more often than not you will promise to invite them just to get some peace. Now duly reaffirmed as prestigious guests at prestigious dramatic occasions, the Barnacle is poised to pounce on the next sucker who comes to town. (...)
However, ambassadors know that entertaining a few eccentric barnacles now and then comes with the job – they are a harmless part of the local landscape. However, on one posting I encountered the Great-Grandmother of all Diplomatic Barnacles, a barnacle who operated on a truly European if not international scale. This is her story.
by Charles Crawford, Diplomat Magazine | Read more:
h/t The Browser
