They hate clear spaces. Have you noticed how, when you clear a desk or table, the next person who comes in will put something down in the space you cleared? I once worked in an office where the door would not stay closed for more than a few minutes. It was directly across from my desk and when it was left open an icy breeze would blow around my ankles. As long as I could stand the draught, nobody would come through the door. However, if I got up and closed the wretched thing, someone would come bouncing in within five minutes and leave it open. If, by some chance, they closed the door behind them, someone else would come along within seconds and leave it open. That door was infested with Murphys, I tell you.
Madeline Montalban, a ceremonial magician, who wrote for "Prediction" magazine on the Tarot and magick, wrote an article about them, which has stuck in my mind for more than 25 years.
Madeline wrote about her kettle, which she said harboured a Murphy. It was a whistling kettle which would fire its whistle across the kitchen, breaking any crockery or glassware that it encountered on its wild flight. In an attempt to curtail its activities, she hung a Tau cross (a cross in the shape of a "T"), symbol of the goddess Nortia, above the cooker. The kettle sulked for a bit, then shot it down.
Its crowning achievement then was to launch its whistle into a trifle which was being prepared for guests, where it "pulled the cream over itself" and hid until turning up triumphantly in the bowl of the guest of honour!
Murphys are adept at hiding things that you need at the time you most need them. I have had objects disappear and reappear in the place where you looked for them in the first place but where they definitely weren't the first time you looked. This would have caused me to doubt my sanity and my eyesight, were it not for the times that I've asked someone else to check that I haven't overlooked the item ("Look at this shelf and tell me if you can see my keys!")
I've given my Imp a name. I call him Pyewackett and he inhabits my handbag. Heaven help anyone who tries to take something out of my bag, Pyewackett will ensure that they can't find their nose to blow it. It took him about a year to get used to my husband - for a long time if I asked my husband to get something out of my bag he'd bring the whole thing over to me saying "I'm not touching that, not after the last time!" Pyewackett is feeling playful, appealing to him by name (with a bit of flattery) will usually get the missing item returned from wherever in hyperspace it's gone off to.
Once, my husband was at the dentist when the nurse said she couldn't find the pot of amalgam she'd prepared for his filling. He told the dentist, "Don't ask about what I'm going to do now...Pyewackett, put it back, please!" Lo and behold, the amalgam reappeared...and of course, the dentist asked "How the hell did you do that?" It's difficult to refuse an explanation to a man who has you at his mercy, as the dentist pointed out when David tried to get away without explaining...
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