Statman to the rescue

Date: 21/11/1996

Deep within a secluded maison de maître on the outskirts of Got'Em City, capital of Europe, the statphone rang.

Statman's trusty assistant, Robbin, picked it up.

“Statman,” he called, “It's for you. The Commissioner of Got'Em City on the line. He says it's trouble again! He needs our help!”

Statman grabbed the receiver: “Yes Jacques. Really? You don't say! How did this happen? It can't be true! Leave it to us Jacques. This is a job for ... Statman!”

As Statman put down the receiver, Robbin was already heading for the Statmobile.

Statman's grim face told the whole story. “He's at it again Robbin.”

“Holy comparative graphs, Statman! But how? I thought we'd...”

Statman was climbing into his statsuit: “So did I, Robbin, so did I. I thought we'd seen the last of ... the Numbercruncher.”

As Statman gunned the statmobile into life, the heroic pair recalled just what they were up against. The evil but oh so clever Numbercruncher had been wreaking havoc in the city for months, spreading fear and confusion.

Then, last week, after yet another daring infiltration by the Got'Em City propaganda machine, it had seemed as if the streets were safe once more.

The competitiveness débâcle had been the worst. Conflicting figures in a report on employment and labour market flexibility had made the Commissioner of Got'Em City and his assistants, Flynnflam and Bunglemann, look foolish.

Numbercruncher had blown an entire strategy out of the water - and there was nothing worse than being bested by some nerdy little wrongdoer whose only creed was blind adherence to the collection, classification and tabulation of numerical facts or data.

Got'Em City was now in the grip of number fever, a numerical nightmare where everything was predicated on someone's perception of ratios and indices and averages.

And that someone was ... the Numbercruncher.

There was a furious row raging in France, where the politicians were irate that the Numbercruncher was questioning the government's figure-juggling tactics to improve the prospects of meeting the single currency convergence criteria.

“The credibility of statistics is at stake,” fumed one French figures fanatic.

And then there was the Court of Auditors, at odds with the European Commission, because the Court's latest indictment of EU financial mismanagement showed almost 5 billion ecu had gone astray. But the real figure was only 150 million ecu - the rest was the Numbercruncher's extrapolation of a statistical sample.

That, thought Statman, was like saying that just because you had 2 ecu in your pocket when you thought you had 3, your secret deposit account must only have 4 squillion in it instead of 6 squillion.The Numbercruncher had to be stopped!

As the statmobile reached twice the speed of light, a figure which Statman noted with satisfaction was statistically impossible, Robbin shook his head: “Holy hand-outs, Statman, he can't still be alive! Not after the way you grappled with him over the edge of the Breydel building at the end of the convergence report wrangle in which he claimed 12 member states would be ready for EMU by the start of 1999!”

Statman looked up: “I know, Robbin. What a dastardly trick! Such a bold claim considering that the figure did not take into account one of the most crucial qualifying statistics at all - global public deficits and their proximity to the 60&percent; threshold of gross domestic product!”

Robbin shook his head angrily: “And with three member states still facing national budgets which could totally change the figures! Such deception! Jumping pollsters, Statman, surely Numbercruncher perished in the long plunge from the Breydel roof?”

Statman nodded: “Statistically, his number should have been up, Robbin. According to the figures, not even Numbercruncher could survive a six-storey plunge on to solid concrete! Not with his weight! It just shows yet again how unreliable statistics can be!”

Statman glanced across at his chum: “This time we shall get our man, my fine figure-fighting friend. Clearly the time has come to regain control over statistics and put them in their place, somewhere at the back of a dense report where they can do no harm and will not interfere with the smooth running of the European Union. I have a plan! I have it all ... figured out!”

Across Got'Em City, the Numbercruncher was relaxing in his lair. He had been busy since his last encounter with Statman. Numbercruncher chuckled at the thought - he had poured figures into Got'Em City until the Commissioner could take no more. Now all he had to do was sit back and watch the seeds of confusion blossom and grow into worry and despair.

In this one week alone, the tally was impressive - around 80 million EU citizens suffering from unacceptable noise levels, according to Ritt Budgerigar's environmental Green Paper; about half a million deaths every year from smoking alone, according to Pádraig Flynnflam's health report; more than 800 million chronically under-nourished people throughout the world, according to Franz Fischler's report on food supply; more than 5 billion ecu required to fight BSE in the next two years, according to Jacques (A Votre) Santé; 18.1 million people without work in the EU, a 0.1&percent; rise to 10.8&percent; of the population compared with the same time last year...

And there was plenty more where that came from, guffawed the Numbercruncher. Soon the whole of Got'Em City would be reduced to a nervous wreck!

His evil thoughts were interrupted by a ring at the doorbell. He leapt to his feet and pulled open the door.

“Yes? What do you want?” he growled at the small boy who stood there with a clipboard.

“Sorry to trouble you sir,” said the boy. “I am from the Commissioner's office. Apparently there is a one in six trillion chance that this house is about to be hit by lightning and we advise you to leave at once!”

The Numbercruncher considered the odds. He grinned. He slammed the door shut. He laughed: “Ha ha! You don't catch me that easily Robbin! Didn't you know that you only had a one in 85 chance of fooling me into a trap? Ha ha!”

Suddenly a quiet voice behind him spoke: “Not so fast Numbercruncher.”

He swivelled round. Statman stood there.

Numbercruncher gasped: “But how...?”

Statman smiled: “I broke in through the back door while Robbin kept you at the front. It's the end of the road, Numbercruncher!”

Numbercruncher quickly bent down: “I think not!” he exclaimed, flinging a copy of the latest Commission report on economic and social cohesion in Statman's face. Statman reeled back in agony, covered in dubious figures.

In those few seconds, Numbercruncher fled upstairs, out through a window, across the rooftops and disappeared from view. Robbin rushed in and helped Statman to his feet: “Suffering surveys, Statman! He's gone!”

Statman stood there, stunned by the impact of the cohesion report: “Yes, but there will be a next time, Robbin. Statistically, we are bound to catch up with him sooner or later!”

In next week's thrilling episode: Numbercruncher brings fear to the Union with an analysis of cross-border crime trends in the single market.