In this namby pamby world of health and safety, very few objects are manufactured with spikes, other than those which are purposefully designed to spike things. The spike, once a symbol of honor in the Prussian army, is now little more than a hazard to be ground away by government-owned angle-grinders. In this hermetically sealed world of the risk-adverse, the the spike can be trusted to burst our bubble; this most uncomfortable and prickly manifold.
Spikeyness an increasingly rare amongst consumer products; The few remaining include objects such as a cobbler’s Awl, and certain proprietary “inflation prongs“. The spiked Pickelhaube helmet, designed by the insane Kaiser Wilhelm the First, is the apex of the spike as an adornment. What could be more noble than a regiment of glinting, spike-clad rifle-men?
The mad monarch felt that the spike made his infantry appear more intimidating, however this top-heavy helment proved unpopular amongst soldiers, who feared that this monstrosity would topple from their heads in mid-parade. The need for practicality over elegance hastened the downfall of the spike, as even this most triumphant emblem of Prussia became truncated and blunted as if worn down by progress.
Spike adorned utility cabinet, adjacent to the entrance of ‘Doves Cot Trust’, Park Lane, Crouch End.
The spike, while rarely associated with british fashions, had it’s admirers amongst civil engineers. What seems outlandish on a helmet raises not a second glance when rendered in cast iron. What could be a greater deterrent to burglars than the spiked fence, or perhaps this cabinet - built to house some critically important edwardian era technology. Again, the spike motif dominates, like a salute to the moon.
The design of this cabinet indicates a British age, proud of it’s Germanic connections, for our royal family were proud of their Prussian ancestry, before they decided to re-name themselves “Mountbatten” and “Windsor”. The spike singnals with utter clarity, that this box, and it’s content are the domain of real, patriotic men, a bold spike warding off even the vaguest feminine notion.
Since the two great wars, the spike has been in decline; The foppish “new man” is more likely to adorn himself with garlands of flowers, and britches of silk than the humble spike. The painfully erect pride of the spike-helm is at odds with the frilly-shirted ranting of today’s loose crowd; And our most traditional British headgear is the flat-cap, the very anthesis of the once mighty Pickelhaube.
So ends the decline of the spike, once a friend to cobler and farrier - now a hazardous appendage to be severed amongst a flurry of sparks.
0 Response to “Spike”