Getting up their noses
Sir: Your journal does make a mess of discussing science. A. N. Wilson's claim (Diary, 20 April) that scientists have left it too late to master poetry raised a joyous chortle: one of the world's leading experts on Shelley happens to be a very disting- uished scientist as well. (And Borodin was a chemist, Chekhov a doctor, etc, etc.) Mr Wilson's remarks share with Terence Kealey's flat-earth economics (Letters, 23 February) the implicit (and uniquely Brit- ish) assumption that science has no cultural value, and is only worth doing if a drug company will pay you for it.
I do not know what Mr Wilson's grasp of Shelley is like, but I wonder if he knows that every atom of his body has been inside several stars, and can give a one-sentence proof that there is no largest prime num- ber. (Or does he need a fortnight to 'get it up'?) He's right about Shakespeare and the £20 note, though.
A. R. King
Holly Tree Farm, Peatling Magna, Leicester
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