I yearn for the days of pointed sticks

Certainly in the topsy turvy world of rock and roll, having a good solid piece of wood in your hand is quite often useful Ian Faith

I've just experienced a most interesting seminar. I have no idea what the seminar was about, I was far too distracted, but the experience was not to be forgotten. The speaker, as is the norm these days in scientific presentations, had a laser pointer, and like most speakers was completely inept in its use. Spectacularly so, in fact.

The pointing came into play after a brief introduction. Like most of us who aren't called Skywalker the speaker was unable aim a laser, so after a few spastic twitches the little red dot careered across the screen to the rough point of interest, where the speaker kept the thing moving around just in case anyone forgot what they're supposed to be looking at. There it remained, making rapid and random motions about the screen in a mildly irritating fashion. Normally, when the pointing is done the laser is switched off, and the talk continues. This speaker, whether through nerves or incompetence, kept her finger on the laser for almost the whole talk. She prattled on, blissfully unaware that the audience wasn't paying a blind bit of notice and instead were completely focused on tracking the erratic, fast-track Brownian motion of this sprite-like red dot. Concentration became even more urgent after the speaker made a sudden turn towards us, instantly frying the retina of one of the keener Post-Docs who had made the mistake of sitting near the front. This was not to be the last such incident.

On and on she rambled, oblivious to the audience's synchronised head movements and the occasional whimper of pain and lost vision, until the mercifully battery ran out and this mischievous red Tinkerbell was finally allowed to die. This was, of course, to everyone's relief except the speaker, who a minute or so later had genuine need to highlight something on the screen, only then realising that this demonic light-saber had expired. In desperation, she looked to the host with pleading eyes. 'Does anyone have a pointer I could borrow?' By this point, some of the more epileptic members of the faculty were showing themselves a little worse for wear (I was convinced that we would see at least one seizure), so everyone kept quiet, even those smug gadget freaks who carry a pointer on their keyring and love to show everyone at the slightest provocation. You could almost see the speaker's deflation.

Back in the good old days, if you wanted to carry an air of authority during scientific presentations, you had a pointer. A good, solid, wooden stick. When one pointed with a wooden stick, it went straight to its mark without a lot of jittery chaos, before being dropped back down due to its weight, whence it could be leant on as a totem of intellectual confidence. Nobody ever screwed with a scientist who could correctly wield a pointed stick, and certainly not an unruly undergraduate. Nobody ever suffered an brain seizure due to the twitchings of a wooden stick, and nobody ever had their eyes destroyed. (At least, not accidentally. There have been times when I have been tempted to reach forward and give a sharp prod to some smartarse in the third row). It is time to put a stop to this nonsense, and go back to the days of a solid pointer in every venue.

Next week - I bemoan the death of the lectern, and declare a bloody jihad on Powerpoint