Life likes to serve up a hefty helping of unanswerable questions, doesn’t it? Both big and small; some are relevant and potentially life-changing. Others are little more than an irk. Questions like why don’t unicorns or dragons exist? Why do we peel certain fruits, but not others, before eating them? Why don’t I have the body of a Greek God yet even though I ate broccoli yesterday? Then you have more posing, imperative questions like ‘Why are the DUP an actual thing?’ or, like someone asked me today, ‘What would you do if you were God?’ Let’s roll with that one for a moment. God’s having a bad day, he’s feeling a bit blue – probably the result of us, his most complex creation, pissing all over his playground. Anyway, he’s taking a time out, a well earned sick day and you’ve been catapulted into his/her role for the next few hours. You’re now temping at a cosmic level; an entire wealth of universal magic is yours to wield. What would you do?
Obvi make unicorns real, duh.
I am very into unicorns, and so it seems are a lot of other people across the globe. For a creature that doesn’t exist, they sure do seem to pop up everywhere. Harry Potter, kids shows, on passports…Wikipedia has over 40 pages dedicated to fine-tuning your knowledge of unicorns; from their origins to what their dining habits are. The pages are even divided into numerous sub-sections, so you can tailor your thirst for unicorn facts. There’s unicorns in fiction, unicorns in popular culture, unicorns that voted against Brexit– There’s literally everything. I’ll admit it broke me for a solid half-hour, my head burst as I tried to navigate around all this knowledge I now had access to. I am now a uniconnoisseur (yeah, I went there.)
Why would I pick the unicorn you ask? I mean, it’s not exactly the most creative beast we’ve conjured up, is it? It’s essentially a leathery rhino with an aversion to the gym. Yet I would heap them into the world without a second’s hesitation because they, to me anyway, are a contrast to something in our society that is broken; a gleaming light shone upon something that is inherently fake. I’d use my temporary Godly powers to make unicorns real is because I feel we, as a country, as a planet, need something magic to help pull us out of this festering funk we’ve plummeted into. I love the idea of unicorns because they are nice little vacation from reality. It’s a time of unspeakable atrocities committed upon innocents; of terror attacks at pop concerts, of streets brimming with hate crimes. A period where we’ve lost faith in our political leaders as we watch them barter with woman’s bodies and gay rights to stay in power. To me unicorns represent a better version of ourselves; they’re graceful and innocent and don’t hold negations with the DUP. Right now our society is a knackered horse with a Pringles tube strapped to its head, being lead to the slaughter through a field of wheat by an uncaring witch. In order to change that we need to be the unicorns we want to see in the world.
Our planet is essentially boiling itself alive, yet we zoom around in cars and continue to spit poison into our rapidly thinning ozone layer. We turn a blind eye to sex trafficking. We ignore that corporations use what equates to slave labour, yet we still own iPhones and clothes. The NHS is suffocating yet we continue to cut its resources. We showcase cute little towns in tourism videos, but ignore the fact that the few shops in their high streets are closing down. We like to think that the UK is blossoming multicultural flower pot, full of different races and religions and tolerance. When the last few months have not only contradicted that but also highlighted how insanely fractured and divided we are a country.
What is a unicorn to you? Perhaps the unicorn is Brexit. It’s elusive hard to find and depict accurately, and like any horned beast, it has a horn, because it is nasty and potentially dangerous. Maybe it’s the physical representation of polyamorous relationship and the unicorn is a hypothetical woman who is willing to exclusively date both members of an existing couple, and who agrees not to be sexually involved with one member of the couple unless the other member of the couple is also there? Maybe they do exist. They’re called a rhinoceros but they’ve just put on a bit of weight lately (probably because of all those Pringles.) Or maybe we can breed them by shoving a horse and rhino onto Love Island, plying them with booze and hoping for a miracle. That said, I read somewhere that all rhino’s get castrated. Who the fuck has a job castrating rhinos? Jeezo, that’s some dangerous shit. Possibly Theresa May, she’s known for being ‘strong and stable.’
I’m pretty sure we all know that unicorns (sadly) do not exist, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t useful. We need them to sprinkle some magic over the misery. If I were to tweet that I had galloped up Buchanan Street on a majestic unicorn you’d likely say ‘yeah, that didn’t happen.’ (or call my doctor, either or.) And you’re right, it didn’t happen, cause unicorns don’t exist. But it’s the same way we know dragons don’t exist but they can fly and breathe fire; that zombies aren’t real, yet they have a hunger for human brains, or that Avril Lavigne died and was replaced by a clone/look-a-like. Unicorns may not be real but we can all agree what their attributes are; the same way the perfect society doesn’t exist but we can all sketch some vague outlines. They give us something to aspire to – brave, majestic, big hearts, slightly infatuated with rainbows. I mean, if they did exist then they’d probably be extremely underwhelming. It’s really just a camp horse, isn’t it? Probably couldn’t even compete in the grand national, that horn would cause all sorts of issues, it’s not very aerodynamic or wind resistant. Basically, for me unicorns do represent a falseness within our society, they are everywhere but they aren’t real. But sometimes you need that falseness in order to dream of something better; to envision change. To make you realise that things can get better. And if you don’t agree with my divine decision to bring forth the age of the unicorn, then stick a Pringles tube to your head and fight me.