For the past two days, I’ve been reading reviews and rebuttals of a paper written by a researcher scholar gentleman(?) whom I refer to in my head as that idiot*. His arguments are internally inconsistent and his methodology unsound; professional discretion forbids me saying more.

Briefly put, he is a Bad Scientist.

Right before I woke up this morning (when all my best and worst dreams happen) I dreamed I was at a conference lunch. At the next table the Bad Scientist (whose face was undoubtedly supplied by my subconsious, as I don’t know him) droned on to an awkward young researcher who was too polite to contradict him. Just as I was getting annoyed, the author of an impeccably-researched 30-page rebuttal set her tray down at the same table. Now, I thought, there will be fireworks.

I started my day’s research in a considerably better frame of mind.

* I suspect that developing professional antipathies is part of becoming an acadaemic. I once heard a lecturer refer to someone as “an absolute nutter of a historical linguist”.