Here there be dragons.... or maybe elephants.

I love old maps. You just can't compare them to a Melways, or British Ordinance Survey... or a GPS for that matter.

The maps of old were works of art - detailed, colourful and full of skilled penmanship. And, to a great extent, wrong. And that's a big part of why I love them.

It says a lot about humanity that we can be so rock-hard certain about the way the world is, that we not only draw it in detail but put so much effort to dress it up with iconography, faces blowing the winds, detailed compass roses - all to make it look impressive and official. It looks good, it seems right. Whether or not it is accurate almost seems like an afterthought.

But, no matter how much you dress it up and legitimise it, no matter how carefully drawn it is or how much you promote it: it's either right or it's wrong. We might laugh at the people a few hundred years ago for their ignorance and how wrong it was. But the measure we use to judge that is our own modern maps. The ones we legitimise and label as accurate, with not much more proof than the sailors of old.

I've blogged previously about John Saxe's poem of The Blind Men and the Elephant where six blind men come across an elephant, and each feels a different part and draws their conclusions based on that; then violently disagree on which one is right.

Each man is so convinced of his own rightness, he will defend himself without even considering the possibility that he might be wrong. Just as the mapmakers of old worked with such skill, detail and art to explain to the world how right they were - without considering that they might be wrong.

I'm always suspicious of anyone who takes a position, morally, politically, religiously or otherwise, that discourages being questioned on it. To my mind, any position which refuses to even entertain the possibility that it might be wrong is probably on pretty shaky foundations.

Ultimately, it comes down to simple arrogance. The arrogance of a religion that it 100% convinced that their God demands blood to be shed in It's name. The arrogance of a politician who stands in opposition of a bill simply because the other party support it, without reference to the merits. The arrogance of a doctor who presumes to know what is best for their patient without even asking.

Or the arrogance of a cartographer, who will devote weeks to drawing figures and decorations around the border of their map, utterly convinced that map they surround is flawless.

Would you care for some sea kitten and chips?

PETA, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, are of the opinion that you shouldn't eat fish. Well, any sort of meat, really, but let's stick with the fish for the moment.

They've also noticed that people, in general, don't eat kittens. With me so far?

So, they've decided that henceforth fish should be called "sea kittens". The logic being that if people identify fish with cute furry kittens, then they will feel badly and not eat them.

I use the term "logic" here rather loosely, because PETA seem to have missed out on a few basic points here. For one, the first couple of things people notice about a fish is it's distinct lack of paws, whiskers, ears, fur, etc. Likewise, kittens are regularly noted for their dearth of scales and their failure to breathe underwater.

More to the point, PETA seem to be of the opinion that if you change the name of something, it fundamentally changes its nature. It's understandable, given the popularity of this concept in recent years.

Shakespeare, now he knew a thing or two about this. In Romeo & Juliet, he wrote: 'What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name, would still smell as sweet." And that which what we call a sea kitten would still taste rather good if sauteed in some butter and herbs, methinks.

In her Earthsea books, author Ursula K. LeGuin has it that when a wizard knows the "true name" of someone or something, he holds power over over it, and can change it's nature by changing its name.

The US Government, in recent years, has had more success in this area. For example, by changing the name of "prisoners of war" to "enemy combatants" did it indeed change the nature of what rights under international law these people held. But it did not (despite dissenting opinions of some of the guard at GITIMO) stop them from being human. Their species remained intact.

The attempt at renaming "french fries" as "freedom fries" in protest of the French Government was somewhat less successful. Possibly because french fries originated in Belgium, and the French have been trying to get us to stop calling them that for years.

The political correctness movement has also attempted a similar feat. However, renaming a person without sight from "blind" to "visually challenged" has not magically given the person sight.

And calling a fish a sea kitten is not going to stop it being battered, deep fried and put on a plate, any more than changing the term "a bunch of morons" to "PETA" has changed the nature of that.

If you think about it further, the term kitten only refers to a juvenile cat. So, only newly spawned fish could be called sea kittens. Or really small fish. Bigger fish need to be called sea cats, one would think.

And then there's the problem of the sea lion. They eat fish too. So, if a lion (being a cat) eats another cat, isn't that cannibalistic? Not to mention cat food. Land cats eating sea kitties.

And what of the brave fishermen, those gallant sea dogs. Oh... dogs chase cats. That one works, let's leave it in. Less good news for seakittenmongers down at my local market, though.

Budgerigars, too, will be more than a little confused; they spend their lives in fear of land-cats, but yet sharpen their beaks on a piece of cuttleseakitten.

Dr Seuss will be scratching his head trying to work out how to write 'One sea kitten, Two sea kittens, Red sea kitten, Blue sea kitten" without needing extra paper, and which one is supposed to be wearing the hat.

Still, my thanks should go to PETA for brightening my otherwise dull day by making this suggestion. I can't wait to see what they come up with for veal.