Like many a family this Yuletide, the Dumbclucks are preparing for Year 2000,
the end of the Nineties and the beginning of the Naughties.
In the kitchen, argument is raging about whether to have a second turkey for
the New Year鈥檚 celebration. The tired remnants of the Christmas turkey have
finally been boiled into a sludgy soup, and most people seem ready for a change.
But Willy Dumbcluck, who has been saddled with the cooking, is a turkey-sandwich
addict. His wife Dotty is arguing the case for a spit-roasted mdzo-mo, the
Tibetan term for a cross between a yak and a cow, to make the occasion seem more
special. In the corner, young Swampy Dumbcluck, eco-warrior in training, is
insisting that a giant communal bowl of poached pumpkin in semolina sauce would
better set the tone for the coming Era of Vegan Enlightenment.
Next door, unconcerned by all this culinary wrangling, the eldest child sits,
absorbed, at a computer screen. The room vibrates to the sound of Chronic
Catfight. Machine gunfire is punctuated by laser zapping and the occasional
nuclear explosion, as peace-loving dog-people fight to their last growl against
an invasion of fire-breathing cat-like aliens.
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鈥淭urn that noise down!鈥� yells Uncle Wally. 鈥淲hy can鈥檛 you play something less
violent, anyway? You鈥檙e just reinforcing a stereotype, you know that?鈥�
鈥淕irl power isn鈥檛 a stereotype,鈥� protests Sally with a warlike pout, taking a
quick timeout from launching a burst of incendiary heat-seeking rockets at a
squadron of heavily-armed poodles. 鈥淎nd it doesn鈥檛 need reinforcing. It鈥檚 the
natural order鈥攐ur combination of brains and beauty is unbeatable. We鈥檙e
heading for a new century, Uncle dear, and all of the old gender conventions are
going the way of the dinosaurs. Oh, look at that pretty light in the sky鈥�
奥丑补尘!鈥�
鈥淵ou ought to stop wasting time on silly games and do your homework,鈥� says
Wally. 鈥淧ractise your arithmetic.鈥� 鈥淎ll right, Uncle. Here鈥檚 the homework
assignment: `Keeping the digits 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 in order, insert one or more
of the arithmetical signs + 鈭� 脳 / and brackets ( ) to produce the number
2000.鈥� You try it too, and we鈥檒l see who gets the answer first, OK? But if I
win, you stop telling me to do my homework and let me carry on with my game.鈥�
Bash! Wallop! Miaow! Zappity-zap-zap-kaboom! Woof! Wally throws down his
pencil and put his hands over his ears. Stupid number, 2000.
鈥淐an鈥檛 see what all the fuss is about, anyway,鈥� he grumps. 鈥淭he 21st century
doesn鈥檛 start for another year. The new millennium starts in 2001, not 2000.
That鈥檚 why Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke called the movie `2001鈥�, right?
There wasn鈥檛 any fuss in 1900, they were knowledgeable enough to wait for
1901.鈥�
鈥淲hich I鈥檓 sure you remember well,鈥� says Sally, sarcastically. 鈥淭he reason
the year 2000 is significant has nothing to do with an accidental feature of the
numerology of the first Christian calendar. It is because it is the moment when
the Y2K bug will bite.鈥�
鈥淲hich is an accidental feature of the numerology of the Christian calendar,鈥�
says Wally. 鈥淪tupid programmers couldn鈥檛 even make the bloody machines count
properly. I mean, what good is a computer that can鈥檛 count past 1999?鈥�
鈥淚t wasn鈥檛 the programmers, Uncle, it was the stupid businessmen that didn鈥檛
want to spend any money on upgrades. The important thing is to be Y2K-compliant,
and then you won鈥檛 lose data or suffer unexpected systems crashes. Like I keep
telling Daddy.鈥�
鈥淲hat are you two yammering about?鈥� Willy shouts from the kitchen.
鈥淵2K, Daddy!鈥�
There is silence, then a loud crash, and Willy emerges from the kitchen
wearing a plastic pig pinafore and a squashed chef鈥檚 hat. 鈥淒on鈥檛 be silly,
Sally, we鈥檝e already been over that. Why turkey? Because of the sandwiches,
that鈥檚 why.鈥�
鈥淣o, Daddy, not `why turkey鈥�, Y2K.鈥�
鈥淲hite bouquet? What are you babbling about?鈥�
鈥淭he millennium bug, Daddy. Have you checked out our embedded chips like I
told you to?鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 making roast potatoes, Sally, like I do every year. You know that.
Speaking of which, I鈥檝e hit a bit of a problem. You鈥檙e good with numbers. See if
you can sort this one out for me, there鈥檚 a dear.鈥�
Sighing, Sally puts the game to sleep. 鈥淲hat do you want to know?鈥�
鈥淚 can鈥檛 remember how much I paid for the potatoes.鈥�
鈥淟ook up the receipt.鈥�
鈥淟ost it. But I do remember having a rather weird conversation with one of
the assistants at Woolmart. They sell potatoes by number, not by weight. I
wanted to buy 31 potatoes, but instead of a price all they showed was one of
those bar code things, so I asked how many I鈥檇 get for a pound. `Five,鈥� he tells
me. Now, I felt this was a bit expensive, so I told him `I think you still owe
me a sixth鈥�. I鈥檓 not sure he understood me, because what he said was `If I give
you one potato more, you鈥檒l have five too many.鈥� Which is crazy.鈥�
Sally thinks for a moment. 鈥淵ou know, Daddy, there is one interpretation of
that conversation that makes perfect sense, with both of you being right.鈥�
鈥淲here鈥檚 Swampy?鈥漚sks Willy distractedly. 鈥淚 need some help dicing the
gerbils. Sorry, feeding the gerbils.
It鈥檚 the carrots that I鈥檓 dicing. Wally, can you go and get Swampy and tell
him to feed the carrots?鈥�
Uncle Wally finds the 11-year-old cub eco-warrior out in the garden,
practising his Stone Age survival skills. Swampy isn鈥檛 worried about the
millennium bug, but he鈥檚 determined not to be caught napping if the doomsday
predictions turn out to be right after all. He has borrowed a packet of a dozen
sausages from the fridge and, after several false starts, he has bashed a flake
off a lump of flint by hitting it with another lump. Now he鈥檚 trying to skin the
sausages with his home-made flint knife, but it isn鈥檛 working very well.
鈥淲aste of time,鈥� says Wally. 鈥淚f Sally is right about the Y2K bug, there鈥檒l
be a nuclear war. You should be digging a bomb shelter, Swampy, not stealing
蝉补耻蝉补驳别蝉.鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 not stealing them, Uncle,鈥� says the boy. 鈥淚 borrowed them to practise my
survival skills.鈥�
鈥淰ery useful,鈥� says Wally, 鈥減rovided one of us is good at setting up sausage
traps. Very elusive, the sausage, you know.鈥�
鈥淚t ought to be a rabbit,鈥� says Swampy. 鈥淚 suppose I could have used one of
the gerbils, but Mum鈥檇 get upset. So I鈥檓 trying to slice these sausages apart.
If that works, I鈥檒l see if I can skin them and make moccasins from their
丑颈诲别蝉.鈥�
鈥淭ry taking them out of the plastic packaging first,鈥� advises Wally. 鈥淭hat鈥檚
tough stuff, you know.鈥�
Eventually the two of them get the sausages out of the packaging, and Wally
watches while Swampy carefully separates them with his flint knife. First, he
cuts the string into two lengths鈥攐ne with 7 sausages and another with 5,
then he cuts the length of 7 into 4 and 3, and then he keeps picking up random
lengths and cutting them apart until he has 12 separate sausages.
鈥淚t鈥檚 not very systematic,鈥� says Wally, 鈥渂ut I suppose that鈥檚 one way of
doing it.鈥�
鈥淗ow many other ways are there, Uncle?鈥�
鈥淚鈥檒l just go and have a word with Sally,鈥� says Wally, heading quickly back
to the house.
Before Wally can ask Sally, however, he is interrupted by the clumping of
feet on the stairs and a voice singing loudly 鈥溾�o the left, to the right,
jump-up-and-down and to the knees鈥︹��
鈥淢y God, what鈥檚 that?鈥�
鈥淚t鈥檚 the Party Animal,鈥� says Sally, with an air of resignation. 鈥淵ou know
how you keep moaning about the millennium not really happening until 2001? Well,
the Party Animal has an answer to that.鈥�
鈥淩ight on, Baby,鈥� says a shrill voice. 鈥淪tart the party on 31 December 1999
and don鈥檛 stop until 1 January 2001! Cool.鈥�
They both look up. At the top of the stairs stands a vision. Its hair is
probably blonde, but most of it has been dyed orange, with a streak of dayglo
green. Its eyelashes are sprinkled with glitter. It is wearing purple lipstick,
matching mascara and a skintight dress over black lace underwear. The ensemble
is completed with five-inch PVC heels and a single red rose gripped between the
teeth.
鈥淢um!鈥� yells Sally in horror.
The apparition changes to a new song. 鈥淭onight I鈥檓 going to party like it鈥檚
1999鈥攐h, damn, it is.鈥�
鈥淗ello, Dotty,鈥� says Wally. 鈥淵ou know what the most appalling thing about
that outfit is?鈥�
鈥淣辞.鈥�
鈥淚t suits you.鈥�
Dotty thinks about this for a moment. 鈥淲ally, that鈥檚 the nicest thing you鈥檝e
said to me since 1963. Not that there鈥檚 been much competition, you
耻苍诲别谤蝉迟补苍诲.鈥�
鈥淢耻尘?鈥�
鈥淵es, Sally?鈥�
鈥淚f I ask you a question that has a really easy answer and you get it wrong,
will you go back upstairs and change into something more suitable?鈥�
鈥淭his is suitable.鈥�
鈥淲ell, ditch the rose, anyway.鈥�
鈥淒eal. Ask away.鈥�
鈥淵ou said you wanted to party from 31 December 1999 to 1 January 2001.
Counting both those days, and the whole of 2000, how many days would that party
濒补蝉迟?鈥�
Dotty is dancing with Uncle Wally, and Sally is chasing the last virtual
remnants of the dog-people through a maze of tunnels infested with giant
rats.
Swampy, resplendent in sausage-skin moccasins and brandishing a home-made
stone battleaxe, is arguing about the impending collapse of civilisation. The
hands of the clock converge towards midnight.
Willy has come up with a brilliant idea: a midnight feast. It might be turkey
rather than mdzo-mo or pumpkin, but in one respect this will be a night to
remember, for the turkey dinner will be served just as Big Ben ushers in the new
millennium. Willy has set the oven timer so that the turkey will be browned to
perfection as the witching hour strikes.
Ding dong ding dong
Ding dong ding dong
Ding dong ding dong
Ding dong ding dong
Bong bong bong bong bong bong bong bong bong bong bong BONG!!!
鈥淩ight, time to carve the bird,鈥� says Willy. 鈥淪ally, would you like to help?
The correct answer is `yes, Daddy鈥�, by the way. Just smell that delicious odour
. . . I鈥檒l get it out. Wait a minute . . . the door seems to be jammed.鈥� He tugs
ineffectually at the handle. The others stand around, watching the turkey
through the oven鈥檚 glass door, as it continues to brown. This is definitely not
the way to see in the millennium. 鈥淢aybe we ought to have made poached pumpkin
after all,鈥� says Swampy dolefully.
鈥淚 knew something would go wrong,鈥� says Wally. 鈥淚 bet you programmed the
timer wrong.鈥�
鈥淣o I didn鈥檛,鈥� says Willy. He pushes the touch-sensitive pad that displays
the timer setting. Look!鈥� The green digits are glowing: 00.00.00.
鈥淚 told you to make sure everything was Y2K compliant,鈥� says Sally. 鈥淚t
thinks you told it to finish the cooking a hundred years ago, and it鈥檚 waiting
until 1900 rolls round.鈥� Wally tugs at the door鈥攕till it doesn鈥檛 budge.
The turkey is starting to burn. Even switching off the electricity won鈥檛
help鈥攖he bird will keep cooking for hours anyway. 鈥淟eave it to me,鈥� says
Swampy. 鈥淚 told you that Stone Age survival skills would see us through the
millennial crisis.鈥� He raises his axe . . .
- Here鈥檚 one solution: (1 鈭� 2 + 3) 脳 4 脳 5 脳 [67 鈭� (8 + 9)]
- The 31 potatoes cost 拢6, that is, 5⅙ potatoes per pound. Willy
Dumbcluck was right when he said that in addition to the 5 potatoes offered, he
ought to have 鈥渁 sixth鈥� . And if the assistant had agreed to give him 6 for a
pound, he would have 5 (sixths) too many - How many other ways are there to cut 12 sausages apart? Number the links
between them from 1 to 11. All that matters is the order in which you make the
cuts, and the number of ways to place 11 things in order is 11! = 11 脳 10 脳 9 脳
鈥� 脳 3 脳 2 脳 1 = 39 916 800. Swampy used one way, so the number of other ways
is 39 916 799 - 368. The year 2000 is a leap year (another thing a certain major software
corporation managed to get wrong). The rule is that multiples of 4 are leap
years except for multiples of 100. However, multiples of 400 are leap years. So
2000 has 366 days, and we have to add two more for 31 December 1999 and 1
January 2001