When is a You, a You?

At one time if it should ever have fallen upon my shoulders to be put to the wheel, I would have hoped they are not sagging in lassitude as they were at that present time signifying defeat. The circumstances for their sorry state were, I guess, too ordinary in a lot of cases but in my own, unusual. 

I had endeavoured to live an exemplary life, one of restrained boredom as commented by one of my acquaintances. But in this instance, I had failed miserably, but lifted the spirits of the aforementioned individual. I had been accused of a larceny that amused various members of my profession. Others of the ‘blue-stockinged’ brigade had seen fit to heat up the vitriol to hoist my ‘family jewels’ by a metaphorical hook for all to pour scorn onto. 

My cries of innocence were of no avail among the fraternity to which I am beholden to keep the coffers in a comfortable state of plenitude. Also, I needed their beneficial gaze to make my nocturnal dreamworld to remain bland and devoid of things that go ‘bump in the night.’ If it had been levelled at me that I had been filching coin from the petty-cash tin I feel I could have faced the community with some degree of decorum, but women’s panties, I am subdued to incoherence in my protestation. 

I was accused of being the local ‘Panty Pilferer’ and prolific photographic evidence had been shown broadly that has caused little boys and girls to ‘flash’ their own underwear in mockery of me. If I had been in possession of a walking stick or other attacking instrument, I fear I may have been found guilty of a much graver situation than mere stealing, even though I was innocent of the latter. 

Until this recent accusation, I had not been blemished by any hint of malfeasance, certainly not of a criminal character. Indeed, in the legal profession where I perform with regularity, I have even been known as Pinky Percy of Proprietary fame, such was my adherence to the rules of our profession. It is not an appellation that I revere, but in the circumstances, one that will at least indicate an unlikelihood of any delinquency in this direction. I was distraught but not incapacitated, so I embarked upon a counter-survival action to restore my good name from those that frequent young girl’s clothes lines. 

As a man approaching his middle years, and as there hasn’t been any particularity to embrace modern technological achievements by my profession, I chose to speak with a former grateful client to become apprised of the computer profession. He had informed me in an aside that he had a child that was very conversant with all manner of this technology and I approached him with some diffidence, but for me at the time, also a certain boldness. 

Mr X I will call him, had not heard of my humiliation and even if he had, would, I feel sure have withheld any inappropriate behavior when acquainted with it. When I had thoroughly informed him of my difficulty and of my innocence regarding same, he said he believed me. He added he was a fine judge of men and knew I would not disgrace myself with this sort of behaviour; he would consult his son. 

The first sight of my former client’s son filled me with apprehension. He was wearing frayed clothing and his trousers, if indeed if that was what they were, was torn at the knees and the bottom of them ripped as if from a barbed-wire fence. If he couldn’t afford clothing that even the ‘Charity Shop’ would be loathe to accept, could he really be successful with the task I had in mind? I required him to find by way of a computer searching mechanism to find the real culprit who was, if not impersonating me, then looked like me. 

On showing him the photographs that been forwarded to me, he threw his head back and laughed uproariously. I didn’t, of course, share his amusement. He used two words ‘Code Refactoring,’ and then enlightened me. 

He informed me that not only has facial recognition software been taken to a point where only a portion of a face is captured by a camera but the whole face can be furnished whole and confirmed if there was a corresponding picture in the files. Even extrapolation of the likely features can be done for the final image if it is absent in the records. He then showed me film clips of how a single facial image could be rendered into the appearance of forming different expressions and even talking with a simulated voice. He said if given enough time he could have me breaking through a tape having just won the 100 metre final at the Olympics. I was uncustomary speechless for some seconds. 

I confess that I was shocked at the possible ramifications of the information that had been imparted to me by this untidy young man, but I did not doubt its veracity for an instant, but what should I do with this new-found knowledge? As I was contemplating this, the young man said that I could and should fight fire with fire. 

Of course, I was well acquainted with the expression, but unsure how this could be achieved. The boy then quizzed me as to the circumstance of my position and what would be the final outcome if I did not counter the accusations with facts of my own. He then proposed an action that for the life of me I couldn’t see myself as embracing, well not when it was first proposed. However, this possibly would be a way if I could just put my scruples to one side in order to restore my standing and possibly even enhance it in my profession as one that one dares to fool with at his peril. 

I engaged a barrister for the forthcoming court action that the profession was bringing, to, it thought, protect its ‘good name.’ The acrimonious nature of charges of what I thought to be wholly unjustified also had a liberating effect upon me. Over the next few months, I had overcome my reticence to a marked degree by often imbibing alcohol in establishments that previously I would only have been prosecuting.

I met a charming lady within my own age bracket and together, although belatedly, were doing our best to emulate the various positions of the Kama Sutra. We both suffered for a while with various limb dislocations but soon learned to eschew the illustrations that were only presented for gymnasts to contemplate. 

I had become quite fond of Joshua, the computer geek, and although not adopting his mode of dress. I did embrace fully his suggestions as to how to counteract the accusations made against me, and at the same time possibly enhance my status from ‘fuddy-duddy’ to a ‘boyo.’ 

The barrister I had chosen to represent me had a flamboyant manner and a reputation that tended to exclude him from any invitations to meet up with the Lord Chief Justice on a familial basis. He could embarrass all and sundry at any occasion that had a liberal supply of alcohol being dispensed. However, he was exactly the individual that I needed to bring about my restitution. 

At the trial and after the photographs purportedly being of myself disengaging women’s frilly garments and panties from a variety of washing lines had been shown on a very large television screen, my barrister stood up and addressed the judge. He said he had photographs he would like the jury to see to balance what had just been shown. He then showed not only still photographs but video footage of ‘his honour,’ the current judge, alongside the Lord Chief Justice, with their pants about their ankles and wanking in a public park before many cheering onlookers. 

The case against me was dismissed and my practice received much attention in the slightly underground community that is known for the more unsavory practices that some very affluent members of society often participate in.  

My amore and I have a villa in the Caribbean where we winter away from the inclement weather that usually graces the British Isles. If you see images of us in photographs enjoying the sun and drinks with little umbrellas in them, they probably are really of us.