Very superstitious

10 October was world mental health day.  The statistic being bandied about is that one in ten people suffer from some form of mental health problem.  More likely the truth is that one in ten people suffer from a mental health problem that has been categorised and so can be diagnosed, the rest of humanity simply has aspects of their personality that they either manage to keep carefully concealed or which have not yet been nailed down in a medical text book.

There was, a few months ago, a discussion about mental health in parliament where a number of MP’s bravely spoke up about suffering from, for example, depression or obsessive compulsive disorder, although I noticed that none of them thought it was necessary to describe themselves as suffering from rampant meglomania.

Raising awareness of mental illness is part of the issue, removing the stigma is another which is why I thought that my idea for OCD Top Trumps was a great one until I was informed by the makers of Top Trumps that this was not only in very poor taste, but also that without a movie franchise to tie the product into, sales were likely to be poor.  I went on to argue that perhaps the solution was to tie the mental health edition into the ‘Top Gear’ brand in some way, as the continuing buoyant sales of Jeremy Clarkson’s paperbacks must surely be the result of a compulsion on the part of the shopper that defies reason.  I have yet to hear back.

While there is certainly work to be done in identifying and combating mental health problems, it’s interesting that the same is not done to try and deal with superstition.  This is possibly because superstition has a much, much better PR and marketing department and even though a fist full of anti-depressants may look colourful, they are unlikely to taste as good as the chocolate available in quantity at the end of the month.

31 October is that celebration of superstition, Halloween, and as well as the only thing more fun than chocolate, which is themed chocolate, appearing next to the advent calendars in the seasonal aisle, pumpkins have started popping up at the grocers.

Was there ever a vegetable as sinister as the pumpkin?  This is, of course, because of the connotations the vegetable has with Halloween.  Prior to the fashion of carving the pumpkin, the only time the British public had to deal with a terrifying orange face was when (insert name of television personality with fake tan addiction here) appeared on our screens.  There is something genuinely unsettling about a vegetable that is grinning at you in a knowing way and that has extended to pumpkins being rather unsettling when they are in their as yet uncarved state, it’s like they are hiding something.  Scary.

Of course the British took to the pumpkin head.  The British love superstition, we love superstition so much that we even call pubs ‘The Green Man’ - and naming a pub is more important than choosing the right name for your first born, because while little Clit can always use his middle name when he grows up, nobody is ever going to drink in the ‘White Van and Wanker’.  Superstition connects us with our heritage, that’s why people have a horse shoe above their door and shove cats up ladders or something.

And possibly why so many versions of the Green Man are available in plaque form as decorations for the outside of the home.  And hats off to the manufacturer, they have not compromised in the slightest - the look they have gone for is a pagan woodland spirit, and not even the sort who would safely lead a lost traveller back to the path, but rather one who would take you by the hand and lead you to the dark heart of the forest.  Because if you think a gurning vegetable is frightening, that’s as nothing compared to a bloke with leaves growing out of his ears.

We’ll never get rid of superstition, even if we wanted to the pumpkin growers and confection manufacturers would conspire to keep it going.  Or am I being paranoid?