Topology for the sunset of empire
As we all know, a Klein bottle is, shorn of mathemagical pretentiousness, a bottle disappearing up its own arse.
So imagine if you will, this Gedankenexperiment.
You pack a moustachioed Indian chappie in your baggage when you go off a-tiger-hunting, so that he can polish your boots after you have spent a hard day being carried through the jungle in a sedan chair. The moustachioed Indian chappie, being desirous of being paid two beads a day instead of one, takes it upon himself to carry your baggage for you.
Does the universe then disappear up its own arse?