Picture this: it's the year 1666, and London is a smouldering wooden tinderbox crammed tighter than a longbowman’s quiver. The air is filled with the intoxicating aroma of... well, something slightly less fragrant than roses and rather more reminiscent of last Sunday's roast left out in the rain. It’s not an olfactory journey that sells candles, that’s for sure.
On 2nd September, a particularly shocking event unfolded that would change the city's history. All it took was one careless baker (let's call him 'Flame-'ando') to fall asleep on the job in Pudding Lane, a name that's both deliciously deceptive and quite literally incendiary.
Now Enter: The Great Fire of London (with Sprinkler Systems!)
If Flame-'ando had a modern-day sprinkler system installed, things would've unravelled differently. Imagine the baker's surprise when an infernal crackling was not the sound of someone overdoing toast but the harbinger of London's fiery fate. But this time, there's a twist, because up on the ceiling, perched like sentinels of sogginess, are sprinkler systems ready to leap into action. One pull of a fire alarm, and the city might have stayed as dry as a British sense of humour.
As Fire Captain Thomas Bloodworth, the Lord Mayor, inspects the scene, gone is his dismissive, "Pish! A woman might piss it out!" after seeing the early blaze. Instead, his monocle would have popped straight into his Earl Grey as scenes of fire-squelching glory unfolded. No need for giggling at his old misstep, just a city grateful enough to compose a new ballad of valor and, perhaps, some tips on ‘modern sprinkler awareness’ campaigns.
The Domino Effect of a Single Solution
During the actual 1666 scenario, the fire raged unstoppably, fed by a lack of coordinated response. However, with reliable sprinkler systems, Lady Luck might have looked kinder. Picture iconic London Bridge, still standing proudly; not playing a high-stakes game of 'Will-It-Or-Won’t-It' in the fire’s blaze.
Christopher Wren would probably have less demand for his exquisite churches, yet even he, a little snugger in his architectural laurels, might have acknowledged one less redesign wasn't such a frightful thing, giving him more time to catch up on Shakespearean plays on that new-fangled device everyone’s talking about: podcasts! Or perhaps tending to his colourful wigs, which surely required maintenance rivaling Buckingham's grounds.
Information Spreads Like Wildfire
With sprinklers doing their designated dampeners, Florence Nightingale wouldn't be recounting tales of 84 parish churches reduced to embers over tea with Queen Victoria years later. Instead, pamphlets teaching households about "Home Fire Safety" and "Why Sprinklers Aren't Just For Fancy Gardens" would be on every door, courtesy of concerned city officials.
The world's thirst for scandalous stories might have needed slaking elsewhere whilst the would-be serial pamphleteers turned instead to penning gripping, action-packed tales about mischievous wildlife and seafaring zucchini. Or something equally captivating.
Of Course, There Are Consequences...
Though preventing the Great Fire sounds undeniably appealing, one must consider the long-term ramifications. Firstly, no iconic St. Paul’s gleaming under London’s skyline, a beacon of "London will always rise (without heat under its heels)." We may also lose some subsequent city innovation. Without a 'Great Rebuild' underway, enterprising minds might not push boundaries as creatively.
There's probably a comedian or two lamenting missed punchlines in would-be sketches about a 'nearly-burned' city. Comedic cries of "Sprinklers stole my act!" fill the airwaves of an alternate comedic universe.
So, What Have We Learned?
Reflecting on this whimsical elsewhere, it evokes intriguing thoughts about history’s twists and turns. Otherwise dire events catalysed change, but imagine if every ancient architecture had just one judiciously installed sprinkler? Perhaps history books would need an extra chapter called "Dry Humorous Alternative Outcomes." Oh, and remember, always blow out those bakery fires before calling it a night. Simply because, if history has taught us anything, bakeries and calamities bake well together, but perhaps shouldn't!
