One Way Out!
No.8 committed suicide at the end of ‘Living In Harmony.’ It is a warder, not a prisoner who chose to meet his own end in this way, by throwing himself off a balcony in the Sliver Dollar Saloon. Suicide for No.8 rather than face humiliation from No.2, because of the failure of his method, and retribution from the Villages administration for the murder of No.8 by his bare hands!
“I Too Have A Problem” No.6 Told the Colonel.
Well so do we the viewer have a problem, because we're not too sure which side runs the village. But more, as with the character of Thorpe, the Colonel and Fotheringay, we don't know whose side they are on!
Well, a rather prosaic explanation was once offered many years ago now, namely because Patrick McGoohan liked that particular brand of cigarettes - No.6. Rubbish! Patrick McGoohan only smoked one brand of cigarette - Senior Service.
Too Many Questions And Not Enough Answers?
That is how I once viewed the 1960's television series the Prisoner. Then I started to see that too many things were being read into the series, things which were never there in the first place, nor were ever meant to be. Everyday occurrences were being misinterpreted, and the search for so called "hidden meanings" within the series was all encompassing for many fans of the Prisoner, hidden meanings which I have been unable to find - because they simply do not exist!
I have found that the simple answer is quite often the best answer, and to over complicate the matter leads to having to start from the beginning again! The use of reasoned logic, and not going off at a tangent along the path of the allegorical, also helps when it comes to putting answers to the questions of the Prisoner and his Village.
What Happened After I resigned?
I resigned because for a very long time.......... just a minute, this isn't the Village!
No, I was working in the wonderful world of security at the time, having risen to a position of authority. Yet things had been building up to a point where I had no option but to hand in my letter of resignation, which was accepted!
On the day I left the organisation, I was surprised to see that I was not being followed by a black hearse. I returned home, and there was no undertaker entering my house, no nerve-gas being pumped into the lounge through the keyhole! No subsequent abduction to an Italianate village, only the subsequent visit to the local Job Centre, where a woman asked me why I resigned......... and subsequently I was then pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed and numbered, my life was no longer my own. Bloody hell, the Job Centre was worse than the village!
Why did I resign? Because for a very long time......... Well suffice to say that my life is now at long last, my own.
I'll be seeing you