This page is not Pokémon related, I have been asked to keep a public record of the FFF’s I make for a group of friends and colleagues. If you want to read them I must warn you that they don’t get good until the mid February dates.
Like a gnarled, mutant cannibal crawling out from the murky depths of the New York sewer system it returns!
FUN FACT FRIDAY™ is back, brought to you our friends and sponsors at the Irreverence and Boredom Corporation.
This beautiful Friday, the 29th of November, marks the 52nd birthday of Pong. Released by Atari, it was one of the first ever arcade games and is often credited with helping to establish the gaming industry as a whole.
It's also almost the greatest game ever created, second only to Garfield Kart 2: Furious Racing.
You thought it was over... You thought the previous FUN FACT FRIDAY™ was just a one off, a blip on the oscilloscope, that it was over and FUN FACT FRIDAY™ was back in remission.
WRONG! IDIOT!
GET FACTED! GET FACTED RIGHT IN YOUR FACE!
In South America, particularly in the Andes Mountains, you can find a remarkable flower called the Puya raimondii, also known as the Queen of the Andes. It grows to around 50 feet in height and once every 80 to 100 years it blooms, producing thousands of flowers in a gigantic display which can last months at a time. These flowers attract swarms of hummingbirds which are the primary pollinator of the Queen. Once the flowering is over the remaining seeds are dispersed on wind currents, beginning the century long cycle anew. Unfortunately, the Queen is monocarpic, meaning she only has one lifecycle, once the flowering is complete she quickly dies off leaving behind thousands of orphaned seeds. Sad.
Well, well, well...
What's a pretty little fact like you doing in a torrid chat group like this?
The Voynich Manuscript
What is it?
An illustrated codex hand-written in an unknown script and language. Carbon-dated to the early 15th century, somewhere between 1404 and 1438, its contents remain a mystery to this day.
Where did it come from?
The manuscript is named after Wilfrid Voynich, a Polish book dealer who acquired it in 1912 from the library of the Jesuit Collegium near Rome.
What makes the Voynich Manuscript so interesting?
The fact that no one has been able to decode or translate its text. The script, along with bizarre and unidentifiable plant illustrations, astrological diagrams, and women dressed in anachronistic clothing, has baffled linguists, cryptographers, and historians for over a century. Some believe it might be a hoax, while others think it could be an ancient medicinal or alchemical text.
There's some speculation that the manuscript could be linked to secret societies or hidden knowledge that was deliberately encoded to protect its contents from the church or other authorities. Despite numerous attempts by some of the best minds in cryptography, including those at the NSA, the manuscript’s purpose and origin remain an open-ended mystery.
What's that? Up in the air! Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It's Fact Hunt, the only superhero who was bitten by a radioactive general knowledge quiz and now he's making it your problem!
Todays mysterious ancient artefact is The Copper Scroll.
What is it?
The Copper Scroll is one of the Dead Sea Scrolls discovered in 1952, it dates back to around 50-100 CE and features a list of 64 locations where significant amounts of gold and silver treasures are supposedly hidden.
Where did it come from?
The Copper Scroll was found by a team of archaeologists led by Henri de Contenson in the Qumran Caves near the Dead Sea in Israel. These caves are renowned for housing the Dead Sea Scrolls, a collection of Jewish texts that provide insights into the religious and social practices of ancient Judea.
What makes the Copper Scroll so interesting?
Well, for one it's unique for being made of copper rather than the more common materials like parchment or papyrus and made of two rolled-up sheets of copper that were hammered out to a thin, uniform thickness and inscribed with text using a thin, sharp stylus like tool. The text on the Copper Scroll reads like a treasure map, detailing vast amounts of gold and silver hidden in various locations throughout Israel. The treasures described are extraordinarily valuable, though none have been ever found.
The origins of the scroll are shrouded in mystery, nobody knows the real circumstances of its creation but the most commonly accepted theory is that it was made by rebels seeking to hide their valuables from the invading Roman forces during periods of conflict.
Perhaps one day it may lead us to more long lost treasures and ancient wisdom buried beneath the shifting sands of the middle east.
This week our fun fact is coated in a layer spite, just like me.
In the 6th century AD Constantinople, one of the two lead architects of the Hagia Sophia, a guy named Anthemius of Tralles, lost a lawsuit against his lawyer neighbor Zeno, who had obstructed the direct sunlight to Anthemius' bedroom window with a large home extension.
So, Anthemius got creative. He dug out a basement beneath Zeno's house, built a bunch of rudimentary steam boilers, and connected them via leather tubes to the foundation piers of Zeno’s house. Every time Anthemius turned on his boilers, Zeno's house would tremble, sending him sprinting outside into the streets, raving like a madman about earthquakes that only he could feel.
Anthemius didn’t just invent one of the first practical steam-powered machines - he even wrote a treatise about and created a system of concave mirrors he'd use to redirect high-powered beams of sunlight into Zeno’s house, all out of spite.
Since it's been all the talk of the week this Friday our Fun Fact based on the origins of the Chinese Zodiac. Since I'm off tomorrow it's getting posted now, after all, Fact Hunt always arrives early in the face of danger.
It all began with the legend of the Jade Emperor, a mortal prince attained immortality and became the ruler of Heaven. In this long forgotten era there was no passage of time, so he decided to host a great race, the participants of which would be given a place in the Zodiac Calendar, and each of these participants would represent one month. The participants placement in the race would determine their position on the Zodiac Cycle. The race was a grand event, and the racers had to cross a river to reach the palace.
On the day of the race, all the racers gathered at the starting line. The racecourse included a large river, which posed a significant challenge for many of them.
The Clever Rat and the Kind Ox
The clever Rat, knowing he wasn't a strong swimmer, asked the kind and strong Ox for a ride across the river. The Ox, being generous and good-hearted, agreed. When they reached the other side, the Rat quickly jumped off the Ox's back and dashed to the finish line, securing first place for himself. The Ox, not minding the trick, finished second.
The Agile Tiger
Next came the Tiger. Although the river's current was strong, the Tiger's powerful swimming skills allowed him to reach the shore and claim third place.
The Quick Rabbit
The Rabbit, though not a strong swimmer, managed to cross the river by jumping from stone to stone. Halfway through, he found a floating log and hopped on it, which was eventually blown to shore by the wind, allowing him to finish fourth.
The Majestic Dragon
The Dragon, who could have easily flown over the river and finished first, came in fifth. When the Jade Emperor asked why, the Dragon explained that he had stopped to help bring rain to a drought-stricken area and then saw the Rabbit struggling on a log, so he blew a puff of wind to help the Rabbit reach the shore.
The Cunning Snake and the Trusting Horse
The Horse galloped energetically towards the finish line, but the Snake, who had hidden in the Horse's hoof, slithered out and startled the Horse just before the finish line. The Snake slid past and took sixth place, while the Horse came in seventh.
The Reliable Goat, Monkey, and Rooster
The Goat, Monkey, and Rooster worked together to cross the river. The Rooster found a raft, and the three animals paddled across the river with teamwork. Upon reaching the shore, they arrived in the order of Goat, Monkey, and Rooster, taking eighth, ninth, and tenth places respectively.
The Loyal Dog
The Dog, though a good swimmer, arrived in eleventh place. He explained that he had enjoyed a playful bath in the river, causing his delay.
The Joyful Pig
Last but not least, the Pig arrived. The Pig had stopped for a meal and then taken a nap along the way, finishing twelfth.
The Zodiac Order
And thus, the order of the Chinese zodiac was established:
- Rat
- Ox
- Tiger
- Rabbit
- Dragon
- Snake
- Horse
- Goat
- Monkey
- Rooster
- Dog
- Pig
"War? What is it good for? Absolutely nothing!" - Edwin Starr
Truer words have never been spoken. Fact Hunt abhors war in all its forms, from the abominable nuclear wars down to the mundane storage wars, Fact Hunt vies for peace in our time. Which is why the topic of this Fun Fact Friday™ is this beautiful icon and universal symbol of peace.
But what is this symbol, where does it come from? Does it signify anything more meaningful than crowds of smelly hippies listening to terrible music?
Well, the original sign itself was designed by English artist and designer Gerald Holtom. Holtom was a longtime student of peace, graduating from the Royal College of Art in 1939, he made his first political statement during World War II when he abstained from combat as a conscientious objector. Holtom would go on to become a recognisable political figure, protesting fervently against international conflicts and violence.
In 1958 the first Aldermaston March took place, an anti-nuclear weapons demonstration which was organised by the Direct Action Committee Against Nuclear War Committee and supported by the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, a march through, and out of, London by way of Trafalgar Square all the way out to the Atomic Weapons Establishment in Aldermaston, Berkshire. A march of around 50 miles, all on foot.
It was during this march that the original peace sign was first revealed by Holtom.
The symbol is constructed of metaphor, firstly the arms inside the circle are representative of the semaphore movements for N and D, meaning nuclear disarmament.
While the circle encapsulating the arms represents Earth, of everyone on the planet coming together to strive for nuclear disarmament. However the symbol was also designed with a hint of despair in mind, with Holtom claiming the symbolism was meant to represent a person, arms cast downwards in a gesture of anguish. Despite this maudlin subtext the symbol rapidly picked up usage and popularity throughout the 1960’s with the American anti-Vietnam War protests until it snowballed into the globally recognisable symbol we know today.
Oh, those whacky beatniks…
Fact Hunt is a little under the weather today, Fact Finders, so we’ll keep this one brief.
Light speed. What is light speed? If light speed is so powerful, then what does that say for the ‘heavy speed’ my Scottish friend tried to sell me in the pub? But if light is so fast, then why I am always being overtaken by darkness in my thoughts? And if outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend but inside a dog it’s too dark to read then why don’t we just throw the cigarettes out of the dog to make it a little lighter?
To be specific light moves at 670,616,629 miles per hour if you’re going to use real numbers or six hundred seventy million, six hundred sixteen thousand, six hundred twenty-nine miles per hour if you’re like me and can’t read numbers so good.
So, here’s a fact about light speed, we use the letter C to represent light speed. That C represents ‘celeritas’ which means swiftness or speed in Latin. It’s often misattributed to standing for ‘constant’ as people frequently believe light speed to be a constant, but it isn’t, technically.
We know that it takes around eight minutes and twenty seconds for light to leave the surface of the sun and reach the Earth. But that’s only from the surface of the sun, through the vacuum of space and down to the Earth.
However, when the individual photons, particles of light, travel through a medium denser than a vacuum such as water, air, glass, gas etc they interact with the particles in those mediums causing them to effectively travel at slower speeds due to the circuitous routes they must take inside these non-vacuum mediums.
One of these mediums could be, for example, the core of our sun. A chaotic maelstrom of furious energy, burning at fifteen million degrees Celsius, where 250 billion (with a B) Earth atmospheres worth of pressure bear down hydrogen atoms, causing nuclear fusion as the atoms are compressed into helium.
Which means that sunlight that you're seeing, if it came from a photon produced in the Sun's core, could have spent one hundred thousand years or more (much more) traveling to the surface of the sun to escape. Those photons feeding your plants, making things visible, giving you a tan, causing you to produce Vitamin D, bouncing off that bald guy’s head and forever imprinting your mind’s eye with the gleam of his chrome dome, could have been on a journey since before dinosaurs ruled the Earth.
Only the last few minutes of the journey were at what you'd usually think of as light speed.
Sometimes a universally known, trivial fact is only half the story.
Until next time, Fact Finders, when we’ll talk about the Cuban missile crisis! Fact Hunt, up, up and awaaaaaay
The Cuban Missile Crisis is one of two times that the US was at DEFCON 2, which is the second highest readiness of the military. At DEFCON 2 armed forces ready to deploy and engage in less than six hours, with the readiness of the next step to nuclear war. As it turns out we were even closer to that than originally thought.
“Do you want to play a game?” – Fact Hunt, right before he lost to a chess match program on the easiest setting.
At the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis Soviet Submarine B-59 was in the Caribbean to support Soviet arms deliveries to Cuba. However, on October 27, a US task force it via SONAR, this discovery was so alarming it caused the America armed forces to officially enter DEFCON 2.
DEFCON 2 is the highest level of readiness the US has ever been at; they have never reached DEFCON 1. DEFCON 1 is when they know nuclear war is imminent or has already started.
Unsure of the vessels intentions they dropped very low-yield training depth charges to try and force the submarine to the surface for a positive identification as there was no way to get in direct contact with it.
B-59 had not been in radio contact with Moscow for several days and was running too deep to pick up any radio traffic, so the officers and crew were confused, unsure if they were really being attacked or even if large scale war had already broken out on the surface.
The Captain, Valentin Savitsky, wanted to retaliate with a T-5 Nuclear Torpedo but to do so the three senior officers had to unanimously agree to launch the nuke. The Captain and Political Commissar, Ivan Maslennikov, said yes but this was vetoed by the Executive Officer, Vasili Arkhipov. Arkhipov eventually convinced the Captain to Surface and await clear orders from Moscow.
Fortunately, the argument to not engage in all out warfare was given credence as the sub needed to surface anyway, their batteries were running dangerously low, and the air conditioning had failed giving them a timeframe of mere hours to reach a decision and initiate repairs. Soviet Submarine B-59 shortly afterwards resurfaced and surrendered to the US Navy, the crew were taken into custody and eventually released.
Ultimately one man managed to prevent all-out nuclear war at the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis.
HOMO ERECTUS ERECTUS – sounds like a Mad Max character, but better known as The Java Man.
This week Fact Hunt is on vacation, taking in the sights of Java, an island in the outer haven of Indonesia, walking the very same walk along the Bengawan Solo riverside that world renowned anatomist and geologist Eugène Dubois walked in 1891.
It’s no secret to say that Dubois was inspired by the work of Charles Darwin and Thomas Huxley. So inspired in fact that he joined the Dutch army in 1887 as a physician in the hopes of being assigned to the Dutch East Indies, now known as Indonesia, to prove a hypothesis. He set out to find the missing link between humans and apes.
His first post was in Sumatra, Lampung another small island in Indonesia, it was here that Dubois began cave diving in his free time. His discoveries of early human teeth and bones, combined with his strong grasp of paleontological principles from the time earned him a reputation as a man of some renown in the archaeological circles.
It was then that his superior officers began to take notice of his activities and assigned him a small team of engineers and labourers, however the area was densely forested and had little to no fresh water, leading to dangerous conditions with many of the labourers fleeing the dig sites. After three years with nothing but a few insignificant fossils to show for it, and losing one of his engineers to an accident, Dubois decided the site wasn’t worth the risk and requested to be reassigned.
When he was transferred to Java it didn’t take long for the real work to begin, within a year the dig team had uncovered a skull cap, a femur and teeth. The skull cap had a humanoid structure but indicated a smaller brain size, the femur showed evidence of walking upright, similar to modern day humans and the teeth displayed human and apelike features. And finally, a full human-like fossil.
After much study and debate Dubois was finally ready to publish his findings. Naming the species ‘Pithecanthropus Erectus’ in 1894 he described it as something between an ape and a human. At first his findings were rejected by his peers, with many finding them too outlandish and unlikely but with dogged determination Dubois continued to argue his methods and reasoning and upon examination and independent fact checking the wider scientific community came to accept his findings as definitive.
As his fame skyrocketed Dubois left the army and began to travel the world, being given honorary doctorates in botany and zoology by the University of Amsterdam before finally becoming a full-time professor there in 1899, teaching crystallography, mineralogy, geology and palaeontology and in 1919 Dubois became a member of the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences.
However, some still doubted the existence of the species of ‘Pithecanthropus Erectus’, leading to Dubois becoming reclusive and retreating from the fame and notoriety he gained from his discoveries and becoming disillusioned with the scientific world. He refused to speak about his fossils any further until 1929, when the Peking Man (Homo Erectus Pekinensis) was discovered in China and then in the 1930’s further pithecanthropine fossils were found in Java leading to a renewed interest in the missing link hypothesis and once again pushing Dubois and his fossils into the limelight.
Dubois passed away in 1940. While his theory of a single missing link species between humans and apes was not entirely accurate, Dubois was the first researcher who purposefully went searching for human ancestors and was one of the first to recognise that brain size and body weight are in an allometric relationship, growing together in a relative scale the same way a birds wings grow in scale to the size of their body.
While we understand today that there is not one sole missing link but instead a series of transitional fossils which illustrate the gradual process of human evolution, it was still a groundbreaking (haha) discovery which laid the way for the scientists and palaeontologists to this very day and Dubois deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Darwin and Huxley when discussing the evolution of the human race.
Fact Hunt says: “To know where you're going, you've got to know where you've been”
I either read that in a fortune cookie, Mr. Miyagi said it or it’s a Whitesnake lyric, I can’t remember…
Fact Hunt is lost in space this week, cadets, fighting the forces of the evil Adolf Quizler.
Speaking of being in space: Contrary to popular belief, the first living animal intentionally sent up to space was not Laika the Soviet Space Dog, but instead a container full of fruit flies that were placed inside a repurposed German V-2 rocket by the United States on February 20, 1947.
All the fruit flies managed to survive the journey and made it back to Earth, where they were tested for radiation and other changes in their genetic makeup, as they share about 75% of our disease-causing genes.
Laika was, however, the first animal to enter Earth orbit in 1957 and also became the first ever hot dog.
Fact Hunt is once again busy today, making lives easier for the lesser people he has devoted his life to protect. In his place, I Billy Quizboy!, will be providing your fact. And I don’t dress them up in fancy language so here’s your fact. Come to the fact trough, little piggies. Come and take your fact swill.
Your gut contains about 100 million of the neurons in your body. This means your gut can just about think for itself, leading to some people referring to the gut at ‘the second brain’.
The enteric nervous system, as these complex webs of neurons are known manages complex digestions and gives instructions to the gut microbiome, managing digestion, protection from pathogens and aiding immune function.
There is also a link between the food you eat and depression. If you eat healthier, you might be happier if you do suffer from depression as the gut microbiome produces compounds which influence your mood.
If your diet suddenly changes and it makes you feel sick, this is because the microbiome in your gut isn’t used to that sort of food, and it either dies or has a tantrum (or both, I guess), and it takes a little while for your biome to regrow/recalibrate.
Look after your body and it’ll look after you.
Next week, Fact Hunt will return in: Cosmic Rays and You! Why the Fantastic Four is Bullshit!
“One death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic.” – Donkey Kong
War, crime, repression, racism… and email spam. What do these things have in common? To figure that out, we need to talk about our Simian Circles.
“Okay, but what the hell is a Simian Circle?”
Imagine this: You’re a superhero. A suave, enigmatic, undeniably cool crime-fighting vigilante, basically, me. Naturally, you have a sidekick. Let’s call him Billy Quizboy. He’s got a silly costume and a gimmick, like throwing question-mark-shaped boomerangs. Together, you fight villainy, saving the world one dramatic punch at a time. You’re Batman and Robin, but somehow even more Achillean.
And then one day, Adolf Quizler shows up and shoots poor Billy Quizboy in the face. Brutal. Heartbreaking. You’re devastated.
Eventually you move on and decide to get some backup Quizboys, so let’s add a few more sidekicks to the team: Riddles McGee, Hanz Zupp, Flim-Flam, and Turd Ferguson. Each one has their own quirks and personalities and is in every objective measure all the sidekick that the original Billy was, one’s curious, one’s philosophical, one’s overly enthusiastic, and one just really loves cowboy hats. They’re your little crew of misfits, and losing any of them would still hurt.
But why stop there? Let’s say you have 100 sidekicks, all frolicking and cartwheeling and “Gee willikers”-ing. At that point, do you even remember all their names? Do you really care as much as you did for Billy when one of them dies? No, because they’re no longer unique individuals with personalities and stories, they’re just a faceless sea of sidekick.
So, here’s the question: How many sidekicks would you need before their individuality stops mattering to you? Science has an answer.
“Wait, so this is just part of your weird anti-sidekick overpopulation agenda? Cool, let’s do this. I’ll grab my boxcutter, you hold him down.”
Not quite. Stay with me.
Scientists, in their infinite curiosity, once studied monkey brains (because of course they did) and discovered something fascinating: the size of a monkey’s brain determines the size of its social circle. Bigger brain? Bigger monkey squad. By studying an alarming number of monkey brains, they figured out they could predict how many friends a monkey could have just by looking at its noggin. For most monkeys, the number is about 50. But when they ran the numbers on a slightly larger brain, they arrived at 150.
That brain, as you might have guessed, belonged to a human. Probably from some unfortunate guy they “borrowed” off the street, but let’s not dwell on the details.
This is what we call the Simian Circle: the upper limit of people our monkey brains can treat as individuals. Beyond that, everyone becomes an abstraction, a one-dimensional character in the sitcom of your life.
“So, humans are just the Empire Strikes Back version of monkeys? That’s not exactly groundbreaking.”
It’s so much deeper than that.
Take my grandfather, for instance. He used to carefully wrap broken glass in newspaper before throwing it in the rubbish. Why? “So, the bin man doesn’t cut his hands,” he’d say.
The fact that this was unusual says everything about the Simian Circle. Most of us don’t give much thought to the well-being of the bin collector who prevents us from living in our own filth. We don’t really consider his safety, or anything about him, really. He’s not a person to us; he’s just “The Guy Who Makes Rubbish Disappear.”
Why? Because the bin man exists outside of our Simian Circle.
“Back to the monkey thing again…”
Exactly. Simian Circle refers to the group of people your brain can conceptualize as real, three-dimensional humans. According to those brainy monkey scientists, this number caps out at around 150.
Even if you personally know and like your bin man, there’s still a wall. Our brains are wired to care deeply about a small inner circle, our friends, family, neighbours. Maybe a handful of coworkers or fellow suicide cult members. Everyone else? They’re just background characters in the story of our lives.
Think back to when you were a kid and saw one of your teachers outside of school for the first time. Maybe you spotted Mrs. Johnson at a bar, knocking back shots and trying to coax the twenty-year-old barman back to her place. Or you saw your headteacher leaving a bookie’s shop, looking haunted and sweating as two large men in tracksuits escorted him into an unmarked van. It felt surreal, didn’t it? Why? Because teachers aren’t real people. They’re teachers.
“So, what’s the bigger point here?”
Here’s the deal: Which would upset you more, your best friend dying, or hearing about 20 kids across town getting mauled by a runaway circus tiger? What about your mom dying versus hearing that 15,000 strangers died in an earthquake in Peru?
They’re all human beings, and they’re all equally dead. But the closer someone is to your Simian Circle, the more it affects you. That’s why your death won’t mean much to anyone in China, or, for that matter, to most people outside arm’s reach of you right now.
This is why society doesn’t work. We’re biologically programmed to care about a small group of people, while remaining indifferent, or even hostile, toward everyone else.
“Why should I care about them? I don’t even know them!”
Exactly. This double standard is hardwired into us. It explains why we get angry in traffic. When a stranger cuts you off, you scream, “LEARN TO DRIVE, DOG NONCER!” Try to imagine acting like that in a smaller group. Like if you're standing in an elevator with two friends and a coworker, and the friend goes to hit a button and accidentally punches the wrong one. Would you lean over, your mouth two inches from her ear, and scream, “LEARN TO OPERATE THE ELEVATOR, SHITCAMEL!”?
They'd think you'd gone insane. We all go a little insane, though, when we get in a group larger than our Simian Circle allows. That's why you get that weird feeling of anonymous invincibility when you're sitting in a large crowd, screaming things at a football player you'd never dare say to his face.
It’s also why you would never just rob the sweet old lady who lives down the street from you, but you might pirate a movie without a second thought, even though doing so might cost an unknown number of sweet old ladies who work in the film industry their jobs. To you, the movie studio isn’t a group of real people, it’s a faceless corporation.
This is the brilliance of religion, by the way. A lot of religions essentially say, “If you hurt anyone, you’re really hurting God. And God will absolutely wreck you.” It’s a clever way of expanding the Simian Circle without breaking our brains.
But here’s the kicker: No matter how much you try, you can’t care about everyone. It’s not possible.
“So, what you’re saying is I can’t care about six billion people even if I try?”
Exactly. It’s simply not within the limits of your mental hardware. But here’s the twist: it’s not just that you don’t care about them, they don’t care about you either. And this is where things get messy.
Think about it: if you’re outside someone else’s Simian Circle, it’s much easier for them to treat you like an object rather than a person. That’s why people steal your car stereo or slash your tires. It’s why companies cut your wages or bombard your inbox with spam for miracle weight-loss pills they know don’t work. To them, you’re not a person. You’re just a random shape that happens to have money they can take.
Take someone like Vladimir Putin. What do you picture when you hear his name? Probably a cartoonish supervillain, an egomaniac behind a giant desk, plotting invasions and poisoning political rivals. What you don’t picture is a man who gets hungry, has a favourite food, had a childhood crush, and probably gets migraines like the rest of us.
Even just imagining those human details probably makes you uncomfortable. It feels like you’re being asked to sympathize with him. But what’s really happening is that he’s momentarily creeping closer to your Simian Circle, becoming less of a caricature and more of a person.
Here’s the catch: while Putin is undoubtedly a dictator in desperate need of a one-way ticket to the afterlife, the reality is that you are just as faceless to him as he is to you. To him, we’re the abstract faceless mass.
“You’ve said ‘monkey’ like 60 times by now, but humans are obviously different. We’ve been to the moon. Let’s see the chimps do that.”
Sure, humans have done incredible things. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re still bound by the same mental limitations as our primate cousins.
This is why Charles Darwin, the OG monkey whisperer himself, famously realized that humans weren’t as advanced as we like to think. He supposedly turned to his assistant, Jeje Santiago (pronounced “heyhey”), and said, “Jeje, we’re the monkeys.”
“Oh no, you didn’t.”
I did. And if you think about it, our entire society is built around the limitations of our Simian Circle.
Take democracy, for example. The reason most successful nations use forms of representative democracy is simple: it works with our brains. Instead of asking millions of people to vote on every single issue (which would be chaos), we elect a small group to represent us. This way, we feel like we’re involved in the decision-making process without actually being overwhelmed by it.
It’s the same reason capitalism works. Instead of trying to organize society around some utopian system where everyone shares bananas equally, capitalism simply says, “Go get your own bananas.” It’s not perfect, but it plays to our strengths, taking care of ourselves and the people closest to us.
But that’s where things start to break down.
"How so? This is all rather complicated, simplify it for me.”
At some point, people realized the world was too complex for our monkey brains to handle. Enter racism, invented by a long-forgotten French philosopher named Framboise “Frenchy” LaFrench. Racism was essentially a mental shortcut, a way to simplify the world by lumping entire groups of people into one-dimensional stereotypes.
It works fine when those stereotypes are positive (“Asians are so hardworking and polite!”), but as soon as they turn negative (“The French are… French”), things fall apart.
And it’s not just about race. This same oversimplification happens with corporations, politicians, and just about any large group of people. For example, consider a man who carves wooden toys in his basement and sells them at Christmas. He’s a wholesome, heartwarming figure who spreads joy to children. But scale that operation up to a multinational toy company, and suddenly it’s a cold, soulless greed machine.
Why? Because once something grows beyond the limits of our Simian Circle, we stop seeing it as a collection of people and start seeing it as a faceless entity.
“So, what does this all mean for us?”
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: no matter how much you try, you can’t care about everyone. You’re simply not wired that way. And neither is anyone else.
That’s why strangers don’t feel bad about stealing your wallet, spamming your inbox, or raising your taxes. To them, you’re just another faceless extra in the movie of their lives.
But here’s where things get tricky: while you can’t care about everyone, you also can’t ignore the fact that everyone else feels the same way about you.
“And that’s why we’re doomed?”
Essentially yes. Humans, unlike monkeys, need to function in groups much larger than 150 to survive. We need governments, economies, and global supply chains to support our lifestyles. But the problem is that our brains weren’t designed to operate in such massive groups.
This is why modern life feels so contradictory. We complain about our soul-crushing jobs while enjoying the fruits of labour that only large-scale organizations can provide. We curse traffic while driving cars mass produced on assembly lines. We hate “the system” but rely on it every single day.
It’s a fragile balance, and it’s one of the reasons why societies tend to fall apart. At some point, the tension between our individual needs and the demands of large groups becomes too much to bear.
“There must be some way to prevent this!”
Sure there, but we’ll all have to work together.
I like to call this plan the T.R.Y. plan:
First, TOTAL MORON. That is, accept the fact THAT YOU ARE ONE. We all are.
That really annoying person you know, the one who's always spouting bullshit, the person who always thinks they're right? Well, the odds are that for somebody else, you're that person. I know I am. So, take the amount you think you know, reduce it by 99.999%, and then you'll have an idea of how much you actually know about people outside your Simian Circle.
Second, UNDERSTAND that there are no Supermonkeys. Just monkeys. Those guys on TV you see, giving the inspirational seminars, teaching you how to reach your potential and become rich and successful like them? You know how they made their money? By giving seminars. For the most part, the only thing they do well is convince others they do everything well.
The universal moron principal applies here, too. Don't pretend politicians are somehow supposed to be immune to all the backhanded assholery we all do in our daily lives and don't laugh and point when the preacher gets caught on video snorting cocaine off a prostitute's undercarriage. A good exercise is to picture your hero, whoever it is, passed out on his lawn, naked from the waist down. The odds are it's happened at some point. Even Gandhi may have had hotel rooms and dead hookers in his past.
And don't even think about ignoring advice from a moral teacher just because the source enjoys the ol' Colombian Nose Candy from time to time. We're all members of varying species of hypocrite (or did you tell them at the job interview that you once called in sick to spend a day levelling up in World of Warcraft?) Don't use your heroes' vices as an excuse to let yours run wild.
And finally, DON'T LET ANYBODY simplify it for you. The world cannot be made simple. Anyone who tries to paint a picture of the world in basic comic book colours is most likely trying to use you as a pawn.
So just remember: T-R-Y. Go forth and do likewise, readers.
Next time: The human eyeball, God’s cruellest joke.
Fact Hunt is in traction this week, guys. He got blindsided by Rattlin’ Jimothy, the Bonemancer.
So, on the topic of bones, let’s talk about them. Those creepy, rock-hard sticks holding your meat suit together. You might think they’re just inert, lifeless scaffolding, but nope, your skeleton is alive, constantly working, and honestly, way smarter than you give it credit for. Ever broken a bone? Your skeleton doesn’t just slap some duct tape on it and call it a day. It remembers that shit. This phenomenon, called bone remodelling, is what makes your skeleton the obsessive-compulsive overachiever of the human body.
Here’s how it works: your bones are in a perpetual state of destruction and rebirth, like a suicide cult with strong advertising. Specialized cells called osteoclasts break down old, damaged bone tissue like it owes them money, while osteoblasts swoop in to rebuild new bone in its place. This happens literally all the time, even if you’re not injured. It's like your skeleton is running an endless home renovation TV show where it keeps knocking down walls and rebuilding them, like Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen on crack.
But the real kicker? Your bones don’t just heal after an injury, they hold a goddamn grudge. When you break or fracture a bone, your body remembers the trauma and reinforces the area with extra bone tissue, making it thicker and harder in that spot. It’s like your skeleton is saying, “Not this time, idiot,” and fortifies itself like a medieval fortress preparing for another siege. This is why healed bones often end up stronger than they were before, almost like your body is mocking you for being so fragile in the first place.
And don’t think this memory is just for severe injuries, either. Your skeleton keeps tabs on even the tiniest micro-damages, like that time you stubbed your toe so hard you swore you saw the face of God. Your bones don’t forget, they’re like the elephant of the human body, but creepier, because they’re inside you. That little crack you got playing five aside 15 years ago? Yeah, your bones still remember it every time you try to be athletic for the first time in a decade.
So the next time you marvel at the miracle of modern medicine, just remember your skeleton has been out here self-repairing and stockpiling trauma data like a paranoid prepper since the day you were born. Bone remodelling is proof that your body is a weird, overachieving perfectionist, and if that doesn’t make you grateful for your self-fixing frame, I don’t know what will. Now go drink some milk before your bones revolt and tear out of you like poor old Fact Hunt’s did.
Next week: Dinosaurs! The surprising root cause of 9/11?
Hello fact fans, I’m still in hospital after the whole “deboning” incident and I’ve got tell you, it’s pretty terrible in here, my phone gets no reception, and the TV is always fading to static, but it could be worse. So, while we’re here together, thanks for coming to visit me in hospital by the way, I guess I can tell you all about how technology could be in an even worse state.
So, if you think humanity’s biggest threat is climate change, nuclear war, or our inability to agree on which way the toilet roll hangs on the holder, let me introduce you to the Carrington Event; the most metal thing the Sun has ever done to Earth. Back in 1859, the Sun decided it was bored of just keeping us alive and thought, “What if I just ruin everything?” What followed was the equivalent of the Sun flipping off the entire 19th century and industrial revolution, and we’re still not entirely sure what would happen if it did that again today. But we know it would be bad. Really, really bad.
The Carrington Event was a massive solar flare, basically, the Sun's version of a fiery heartburn belch. It all started with a particularly nasty tangle in the Sun’s magnetic field. When these magnetic knots snap, they release an ungodly amount of energy in the form of solar flares and coronal mass ejections (CMEs), giant clouds of charged plasma that make their way through space like cosmic wrecking balls. Normally, Earth’s magnetic field is like a bouncer that keeps this kind of nonsense out, but in 1859, the Sun sent out such an epic flare that it slammed into Earth like a speeding freight train.
And when I say "slammed," I mean it. The CME from the Carrington Event hit Earth in just 17 hours, which is ridiculously fast on a cosmic scale, most solar storms take a couple of days to show up. When it arrived, it was like the Sun had turned our planet into an overcharged battery. Telegraph wires, which were basically the Wi-Fi of the 1800s, started sparking like they were possessed. Operators were getting shocked, telegraph paper caught on fire, and in some cases, telegraph systems kept running even after they were disconnected from their power sources. The Sun literally turned the Earth’s magnetic field into a giant power grid. Nikola Tesla was only three years old at the time, but I assume this is where his mutant X-gene activated for the first time, allowing him to become an electro wizard in later life.
But the real showstopper was the auroras. Normally, you’d have to be up near the poles to see the Northern or Southern Lights, but during the Carrington Event, auroras were visible as far south as the Caribbean. People in New York City woke up at 1 a.m., thinking it was sunrise because the sky was that bright. Cowboys in the Rocky Mountains reportedly thought the world was ending and refused to go back to sleep. Imagine waking up for your midnight pee and seeing the sky glowing blood red. You’d probably start writing your will, if you weren’t busy filling your pants with solid fear.
Here’s the fun part: if the Carrington Event happened today, it wouldn’t just mess with a few telegraphs, it would absolutely wreck modern civilization. We’re talking about satellites getting fried like bacon, GPS systems going haywire, and power grids everywhere shutting down for weeks or even months. Your internet? Gone. Your phone? A glorified paperweight. And don’t even think about streaming Netflix to pass the time, unless you’ve got a diesel generator (you should own one right now) and a Friends DVD box set. In fact, a 2013 study estimated that a modern Carrington-level event could cause £1.5 trillion in damages and take up to a decade to fully recover from. So yeah, keep that in the back of your mind next time you complain about slow Wi-Fi or spotty coverage. It could be worse…
And the scariest part? The Sun hasn’t exactly chilled out since 1859. In 2012, a solar storm just as powerful as the Carrington Event missed Earth by about a week. If the Sun’s aim had been just slightly better, we’d all have been desperately trying to look up how to survive societal collapse in dusty old public library books while the reavers are peeling our faces off. So, enjoy your modern conveniences while you can, because the Sun is out there, waiting for its next chance to remind us who’s boss. And spoiler: it’s not us.
Next time: Fact Hunt learns a shocking secret about his family, Billy Quizboy wakes from his coma and Adolf Quizler turns over a new leaf?! Find out next time on Fun Fact Friday!
“Slipspace breach off the starboard bow, it’s an unsanctioned fact coming in fast and hard, Captain, what do we do?”
“All hands, brace for impact. We read it, son, that’s all we can do”
- An extract from my new novel, Warp Factor Eleven, a Fact Hunt space opera.
Oh hi, I didn’t see you there, I’m Fact Hunt, you might recognise me from other Fun Facts such as: The Dog Headed Men of the Mediterranean, Anime: America’s Fault or The Monkey Wars; A Complete History of Every Ape from Chimpan-A to Chimpan-Z. Well today I’m here with a special Fun Fact designed for just such a special occasion as today.
The History of April Fools’ Day
Ah, April Fools’ Day, the one day a year when your trust issues get their own holiday. It’s the time for fake pregnancy announcements, cling film on toilet seats, and that smug dickhead in your office trying to convince you that the office is switching to a four-day workweek (spoiler: it isn’t). But where does this bizarre tradition come from? Why do we dedicate an entire day to making each other feel like idiots? Sit tight, because I’m about to drop some history on you.
Blame the Moon Chickens
The origins of April Fools’ Day date back to 1582, when Pope Gregory XIII decided to mess with everyone by introducing the Gregorian calendar. This brilliant plan involved moving New Year’s Day from April 1st to January 1st. Why? Probably because January is cold and depressing, and nothing says "Happy New Year" like freezing your arse off. Anyway, thanks to stunning 16th-century communication technology (read: none), not everyone got the message.
The people who didn’t realize the calendar had changed kept celebrating the New Year on the 1st of April like the clueless time-traveling country bumpkin dumbasses that they were. The rest of society, being the compassionate and understanding bunch we’ve always been, decided to mock these poor souls relentlessly. They’d play pranks, send fake invitations to parties, and here’s the important bit, leave live chickens on their roofs.
Why chickens, you ask? Because back then, people believed chickens were somehow connected to the phases of the moon. Yeah, the same animals that can’t figure out how fences work. These “Moon Chickens” were thought to have mystical powers, but, plot twist, they were just regular chickens. Classic medieval humour: dumb, cruel, and involving livestock. It’s like if someone pranked you by taping a goat to your car and then laughed while you tried to figure out why it was eating your windshield wipers.
France Gets Weird
By the time this nonsense reached France, they decided to tweak it because, well, the French love being unnecessarily dramatic. Instead of chickens, they started slapping paper fish on people’s backs and calling them “Poisson d’Avril” (April Fish). Why fish? Because in early spring, fish are easier to catch, which apparently makes them gullible. So, naturally, they extended that metaphor to humans. Nothing screams “You’ve been pranked!” like walking around with a paper salmon taped to your back while everyone laughs at you.
The French still do this, by the way. Imagine strolling through Paris, feeling all chic with your baguette and beret, only to find out you’ve been rocking a paper mackerel on your coat for three hours. Très embarrassing.
Modern Pranks: The Spaghetti Tree Bullshit
Fast-forward a few centuries, and April Fools’ Day evolved into the prank-filled circus it is today. One of the greatest pranks in history happened in 1957, when the BBC aired a segment about Swiss farmers harvesting spaghetti from trees. They even showed footage of farmers pulling noodles off branches like it was totally normal. Hundreds of viewers called in, asking how they could grow their own spaghetti trees. The BBC, proving that British humour was alive and well, told them to “plant a sprig of spaghetti in a tin of tomato sauce and hope for the best.”
Imagine being so gullible that you’re outside burying your spaghetti dinner in the garden, thinking you’ve unlocked the secret to free carbs forever. Honestly, I can’t even blame them. If someone told me Babybels and Peperami grew on trees, I’d probably be out there with a shovel right now.
About these Moon Chickens
Yeah, the Moon Chickens aren’t real. I mean, obviously. But don’t lie, you were this close to Binging it, weren’t you? And that’s the beauty of April Fools’ Day: for one glorious day, everyone is just gullible enough to believe absolutely insane nonsense. It’s a day of fake headlines, elaborate pranks, and that one friend who still thinks it’s funny to swap the salt and sugar (Yeah, that’s actually me, I really need to grow up).
The truth is, no one really knows where April Fools’ Day came from, but we’ve all decided it’s too much fun to stop. So go ahead: superglue a coin to the pavement, trick your friend into thinking their car is voice-activated, or convince your girlfriend that you adopted a pet snake named and named it after her mother. Just remember, karma’s a bitch, and you better watch your back next year.
Ahoy, fact fans! Fact Hunt is as sea right now defending a poor ship from some kind of new terrorist group! I suspect they may be racially motivated as this vessel is clearly Japanese. And, as I was saying to my new fisherman friends recently “クジラとクジラ関連のアクセサリーについて話しましょう。それと、あの奇妙で髭のある男たちは誰だったんですか？”
What does that mean? No idea, it came to me in a dream, but while this wicked seabound menace regrouped, I sat down with my new friends and they told me all about whales, and one whale in particular, I will relay it to you now in their exact, proverbial wisdom as told to me by the vessels captain:
“Let me introduce you to the 52-Hertz Whale, also known as the saddest emo kid of the sea. This whale is so lonely that its entire existence feels like a Pixar movie waiting to happen, except the ending isn’t happy, just a slow, heartbreaking fade to black while a sad violin plays. The 52-Hertz Whale is famous because it sings at a frequency of 52 hertz, which might not sound like much until you realize that no other whale anywhere sings at that frequency. It’s like being the only guy at karaoke singing Nickelback while everyone else is belting out Bohemian Rhapsody, sure they both sound terrible to anyone who qualifies as human but at least everyone else is all on the same page.
Most whales, like blue whales and fin whales, sing at frequencies between 10 and 40 hertz, which is basically their version of Twitter. They use these deep, booming songs to communicate, find a mate, and occasionally say, “This plankton buffet is lit af ong frfr 💀💀” or whatever. But 52-Hertz? That’s a completely different language. It’s like the whale equivalent of shouting through a megaphone in a pitch no one else can hear. Other whales listen to it and think, “What the hell is that noise?” before ghosting it entirely.
Scientists first detected this lonely sea crooner back in 1989, and they’ve been tracking its calls ever since. They call it “52 Blue” or just “52” because apparently, scientists have the naming creativity of a toaster. Over the years, they’ve mapped its movements across the Pacific Ocean, and here’s the thing: this whale is out here singing its heart out, year after year, and literally no one is responding. No friends, no lovers, just endless ocean and a sad, one-whale symphony of loneliness. Kind of like Adele or Elliot Rodger.
And don’t think this whale isn’t trying. Its calls are loud as hell, reaching up to 180 decibels, which is louder than a goddamn jet engine. Imagine screaming into the void with every ounce of strength you have, only for the void to shrug and say, “Nah, I’m good.” That’s 52’s whole life. It’s out there, wandering thousands of miles alone, calling out for a companion that may never exist. Honestly, it’s so tragic that even the ocean probably feels bad and occasionally sends a dolphin to check in on it.
The real mystery: scientists have no idea what kind of whale it even is. Some think it might be a malformed blue whale, others think it could be a hybrid of a blue whale and a fin whale, and a few believe it’s a completely unique species. Whatever it is, it’s totally alone. And while it’s managed to survive for decades, the thought of its solitary existence is enough to make you want to curl up in a blanket and hug your dog. So here’s to 52, the loneliest whale in the world, proof that life can be beautiful, tragic, and straight-up unfair, all at the same time, Fact Hunt-sama”
Truly, the Japanese have a most sagacious language. Uh oh, look out, Billy Quizboy, the terrorists have returned with a vengeance, come to my aid, let us deal with this ‘Greenpeace’ once and for all, that’ll teach these horrible racists to interfere with honest businessmen!
Next time on Fun Fact Friday: The Finno-Korean Hyperwar, fact or fiction?
…and that my boy, Billy, is how the Finno-Korean Hyperwar was resolved. Not through weapons or violence but through the actions of the humblest of God’s creatures, the Tyrannosaurus Rex.
What’s that, Billy? You want another lesson? Well okay then, but this time we’re going to focus on something a little less expansive than the FKH, how about just a little war?
History: that time when everything that happened, er, happened. History is full of absurd reasons for conflict, but few are as ridiculous as the time a single stray dog almost caused a full-blown war between Greece and Bulgaria. This bizarre and surprisingly deadly episode, known as The War of the Stray Dog, happened in 1925 and proves that sometimes the smallest incident can spiral wildly out of control.
In the early 20th century, tensions between Greece and Bulgaria were already high. Both countries had clashed during the Balkan Wars, and they weren’t exactly on friendly terms after World War I. Disputes over borders and national pride created a simmering rivalry, with both sides just waiting for an excuse to pick a fight. And that excuse? Man’s best friend and constant companion, murder. And a dog, too.
On October 22, 1925, a Greek soldier stationed near the border town of Petrich, in Bulgaria, was out on patrol with his dog. The border between the two countries was heavily guarded, and tensions were so high you could cut the air with a knife, not that you would, you’d be shot on sight for puling one out. Fun fact, dogs don’t care about national borders. So the Greek soldier’s dog decided to chase something and bolted across the border into Bulgarian territory. Naturally, the Greek soldier ran after his dog. Unfortunately, this was no ordinary border crossing. A Bulgarian guard saw him and, enjoying that darkest, most secret human pleasure, shot the Greek soldier dead.
The death of the Greek soldier immediately sparked outrage in Greece. The government demanded an apology from Bulgaria, as well as compensation for the soldier’s death. Bulgaria, however, refused to take responsibility, arguing that the Greek soldier had violated their territory. Things escalated quickly. Greece wasn’t willing to let this go, and within days, they decided to retaliate by invading Bulgaria.
On October 23, 1925, Greek troops launched an invasion into the Bulgarian town of Petrich. They occupied the area, claiming it was a necessary response to “defend their honour.” The Greeks, however, didn’t expect much resistance, after all, they were just trying to send a message. But Bulgaria wasn’t about to back down. While they didn’t have the manpower to push the Greeks out immediately, they called on the League of Nations (the precursor to the United Nations) to intervene. Much like the UN the LoN was absolutely useless and dithered while dozens of people died. In the meantime, the Greek invasion was in full swing. During the brief conflict, 50 people were killed, most of them Bulgarian civilians caught in the chaos.
The League of Nations, which had been established after World War I to prevent conflicts, finally heaved into action. They demanded that Greece withdraw its troops and pay reparations to Bulgaria. Greece, realizing they were about to get on the bad side of the international community, reluctantly agreed. The conflict lasted less than two weeks, but in that short time, it caused significant bloodshed and even more animosity between the two nations. Greece eventually paid £45,000 (about £2.52 million in today’s money) in compensation to Bulgaria.
A single dog crossing a border, a completely innocent act, triggered a chain reaction that led to an invasion, deaths, and a full-blown international crisis. What makes it even more absurd is the level of overreaction on both sides. Bulgaria could have just arrested the soldier or sent the dog back, but instead, they opened fire. Greece, rather than seeking a peaceful resolution, decided to invade an entire town over a matter of “national honour.” It’s the ultimate example of two countries taking themselves way too seriously, and a reminder that sometimes, it’s better to just let seeking dogs spy.
While this strange conflict was resolved relatively quickly, it didn’t do much to ease tensions between Greece and Bulgaria. The incident is now remembered as one of the most absurd causes of war in modern history, and it’s often cited as a cautionary tale about how small events can escalate into major crises. So, the next time your dog gets loose and runs off, just be thankful you don’t live on a tense international border. And if you do, maybe invest in a really good collar/leader combo or some body armour. Because if history has taught us anything, it’s that even the smallest things, like a dog chasing a butterfly, can lead to chaos. And that’s why it’s called the Butterfly Effect. Albert Einstein said that, and I think he knows a little more about Chaos Theory than you do, pal.
Next week: A duck walks up to a lemonade stand and he says, “Hey, got any grapes?”
…And then he waddled away, until the very next day! And that young Quizboy II is how I prevented a crime, a murder most fowl. It was a bad idea, but that duck was making a move, I had to get it on.
Speaking of bad ideas; history is full of bad ideas, but few are as disastrous as the time Britain decided to tax bricks. Actual bricks. The stuff used to build houses, schools, and, you know, everything important. This wasn’t just some weird attempt to punish the masonry industry, it was a genuine attempt to raise money, and it backfired so spectacularly that it left a permanent mark on British architecture.
The Brick Tax of 1784, the moment in history when greed collided with ingenuity, and the result was a nation full of buildings that looked like they’d been designed by an architect with the DT’s.
Why Tax Bricks?
The story begins in the late 18th century, when Britain was in a bit of a sticky financial situation. Wars aren’t cheap, and the American Revolutionary War (you know, the one where America spat the dummy out over a 5% tax increase) had left the government scrambling for cash. So, like any good government, they thought, “What can we tax that people literally can’t live without?” And someone, presumably with some brick related cranial trauma said, “Bricks. Let’s tax bricks.” Genius.
In 1784, Parliament introduced a tax that charged builders based on the number of bricks they used. The logic was simple: more bricks = bigger buildings = richer owners = more money for the government. What could possibly go wrong?
The Great Brick Hack
As it turns out, everything could go wrong and the whole situation came down on the government like a tonne of something or other. Builders, being resourceful (and cheap), immediately started looking for ways to dodge the tax. And because the tax was based on the number of bricks, the solution was simple: make bigger bricks.
Suddenly, brick manufacturers started producing massive, comically oversized bricks. These weren’t just slightly bigger than normal, these were big boy bricks, the kind of bricks you’d use if you really wanted to ensure the tiny body of a previous sidekick wouldn’t float to the surface of Bay 2, Saint Katherines Docks, London, E1W 1LA, am I right Billy Quizboy II? Haha, yes, your predecessor always agreed with me, too. Always. Anyway, with fewer bricks needed to complete a building, builders could avoid paying as much tax.
The government eventually caught on to this brick-based loophole and, in 1801, changed the tax to account for the size of bricks. But by that point, the damage was done. Big bricks were already a thing, and they were everywhere.
The Rise of the "Brickless" Buildings
The tax didn’t just lead to oversized bricks, it also inspired some truly bizarre architectural workarounds. Builders started using fewer bricks altogether, which led to the rise of “brickless” facades. These were buildings that looked like they were made of brick but were actually plastered over wood or other materials to give the appearance of brickwork without the cost.
Some builders even got cheeky and started hollowing out bricks, creating what were essentially brick-shaped shells that looked normal on the outside but were basically useless for structural integrity. It was the 18th-century equivalent of putting up an eminence front that you’re a cool and confident guy but being a crumbling wreck on the inside, you know? Can’t relate…
The Tax That Made British Buildings Weird
When you walk around Britain today and notice buildings with strange, uneven designs or oddly oversized bricks, you can thank the Brick Tax. It created a bizarre legacy of architectural oddities that still exist centuries later.
Even after the tax was repealed in 1850, the damage had been done. Builders had spent decades cutting corners, experimenting with materials, and generally doing whatever they could to avoid paying up. The result? A patchwork of weirdly proportioned, slightly off-kilter buildings that are now part of Britain’s ramshackle legacy.
The Brick Tax’s Lasting Impact
The Brick Tax is a perfect example of how a shortsighted law can lead to unintended consequences. What started as a simple revenue raising scheme ended up reshaping architecture, inspiring creativity and craftiness, and leaving behind a legacy of buildings that look like they were designed by someone playing Tetris for the first time.
So, the next time you’re walking through a British city and see a building that looks... a little off, just remember: it’s not bad design, it’s history and bad design. And if there’s one lesson we can take away from the Brick Tax, it’s this: when the government taxes your everyday needs, react in irrational and unpredictable ways because if there’s one constant in history, it’s that humans will always find a way to outplay the system, and occasionally make it really, really funny. Just like my man Albert Dryden
Next time on Fun Fact Friday: Eating handfuls of ball bearings and going for an MRI scan, just a fad? We speak to aspiring human claymores to get the inside scoop.