Fallen apples: selective gravity

I am not the first and I certainly won't be the last to have sat beneath an apple tree and noted that there is a force that drives a loose apple to the ground. I am not trying to jump on the coat tails of another great mind, but simply seeking to make an addition to the theory.

We understand that gravity keeps us attached to this earth, but I want to establish a new theory of selective gravity. I have studied this at length and have wanted to submit a paper to the relevant scientific magazine (perhaps the Sunday Times supplement). My interest in this area was sparked when I watched Joey Pilkington leap into the air and, it seemed, remained there for longer than was humanly possible. Joey himself has dined out on this story more than once.

It was a late Sunday afternoon, when everything goes slowly anyway, that Joey Pilkington, Raymon Ferrer (a Lancastrian Mexican) and I were playing skipping stones along the Liverpool-Leeds Canal. Raymon was in the middle of telling us about a time his father tried to rob the mail-train with a six-shooter and a horse. He told us how his father had chased along side a train for over a mile until the platform of St Helens Central scared the old mining nag and he veered off into the oncoming cargo trains coming from the Manchester ship canal. His father and Nelly the Nag pulled up just in time to prevent blood loss. Raymon's father, Wilbur, was a Lancastrian with great lineage made up of blood, sweat and coal. Wilbur met Maria when he went to Mexico to fight in a war that he was told would earn him enough money to buy him a house. He didn't find a war, he didn't earn himself a house, but he returned to Lancashire with a wife who stopped traffic she was so beautiful. She loved Wilbur and was prepared to wait for the three months that he spent in jail for attempted robbery of an empty decommissioned mail train.

Raymon had just finished his story when Joey fell into the canal. Instead of plunging deep into the dark water of the industrial thorough-fair, he seemed to just rest on the surface - defying gravity. As he lay, just an inch in the water, he looked back at me and Raymon with a look of astonishment. His feet remained on the side of the canal so we pulled him up and sat on the edge of the water looking at the spot where the miracle happened. The thick grass verge was ample seating for we three amigos as we regained our composure and considered how lucky Joey had been. While we sat there Norbert Hoon was passing on his regular hour stroll looking for someone to annoy. Although we didn't want to talk to him, we were still amazed by what had happened just a half hour before and told him about Joey's miracle. Norbert was enthralled by our tale and asked which spot the miracle took place. He became so obsessed with the story that it became a unnerving, but this was a regular character trait for Norbert. When we showed him the spot (you could still see where Joey's feet dug into the canal side) he began to roll his shoulders and widen his eyes. He started telling us that the story was wasted on Joey and that it needed some-one of his charisma to make the story travel. Basically, he wanted to be talked about as the man who defined gravity. He pushed us aside as we protested that we couldn't be sure it would work again. In a flash he was in mid-air like a gymnast. His back bent like a 'U', his arms out like wings and a look of confidence in his eyes. When he sank with out a trace into the black water none of us were moved to follow him in. Neither were the two policeman on the other side of the canal.

Since that day I have oftened wondered about selective gravity. If there is a scientist out there who would be interested in helping me study this miracle then please get in touch. My theory is this: gravity lets arseholes fall.