For the past three years or so, I have lived next door to the BNP candidate (not standing in the General election, presumably this is on account when he stood in the local and European Elections he mustered a massive 200 votes - that's 200 too many mind)
Some years ago I was quite unashamedly rude to him on the Bus - where he did much of his canvassing, I had no idea he was my neighbour, largely on account hes something of a short arse and its impossible to see him above the 5 foot hedge at the front. I have regular altercations with his Dog 'Elsie' a misc bull terrier who is wont to shit on my back lawn, his dulcet tones through the hedge urging me to 'twat the bitch with a stick' ( I never have, on the grounds it could eat me)
Periodically I am aware in the small hours of morning, that both he and his dog are in my garden, I have made it known that I am aware of this, I have speculated to the garden in a monologue that perhaps I ought to complain to the council, or have the local police covertly watch the house... I have paced my kitchen in the small hours with a hammer, contemplating stainghis narrow minded skull in (and the law would be on my side)
However, I cannot at present complain to the Council - my only option as he isn't a social tenant would be to move, from what is one of a very few nice estates in Chesterfield, also.. in the intervening period between making my monologues and slinging turds over the hedge with the aid of a shovel an odd thing has occured on more then one occasion.
Now to say my neighbour is at times difficult to get an answer from is an understatement, I have oft heard folk knocking at his door for a good twenty minutes before he is moved to open it, I have frequently answered my own door in error, to be confronted with a variety of middle aged men on the other side of the low wall dividing our front doors... from these men I have learned I live next door to a Mr Tasker, I have also learned from one of the few 'men of a certain age and disposition' who have perplexingly come to my back door when he has neglected to answer to ask after 'Graham'.
simple searching via google reveals a colourful history.
I live next door to a convicted criminal who has served time at her majesties pleasure for attacks on women (albeit women of black or Asian descent) and indeed Solicitors in neighbouring towns. He is then, not an individual I wish to get on the wrong side of, we shall simply agree to disagree, I'm happy for immigrants to live in the country, I'm happy for people without connections to the local area historically to live and move here (gawd knows I'm one of the latter) what i won't be doing is causing any ripples on the water, I won't be bothering him in the slightest way, I may have a fence erected to end the issue with his shitting dog and let bygones be bygones.
after all, some years ago, I managed to not realise I lived next to a prostitute (we were TOLD the house next door was a brothel - I naively believed simply the young woman in question was a masseuse) I shall keep my liberal minded, potentially Nazi offending head down... my face after all is known to them, I wonder now, how many of the seemingly innocuous incidents over the past few months have been premeditated, for example the man I found sniffing round my car 'looking for number ** with a takeaway', I turn a deaf ear to the sounds of what MUST be dogfights some nights, and am mindful to keep a low profile when the Police are hammering on his door with a vanful of backup.
I won't however be afraid.
Monday 26 April 2010
a>
When Gulliver found himself in Lilliput, tied to the ground by some angry Lilliputians, I wonder did he question that perhaps, this Pygmy race had built a series of monuments in the Derbyshire Peaks.
No, I expect he had other things on his mind.
However, I have come to conclude, that the most likely explanation for the distinct lack of height in native Derbyshire residents is that they are descended of a particularly tiny indigenous race, this also leads rather magnificently into revealing why ALL the Monuments I manage to find whilst out on my travels are in fact Miniature, clearly whilst these are at times underwhelming, and lack the gravitas of say Stone Henge or the Taj Mahal, if we simply accept that they are on a scale correlating directly to the midgetesque status of those who originally built them, well.. it all seems more impressive and frankly, more Plausible.
of course, reader, you now wonder I expect what on earth I am on about.
Let me, explain further
last week, whilst in a state described by some as 'on the verge of breakdown' or myself as 'a bit stressed' I decided to head out to Buxton, to revisit a place I last frequented aged 10 on a week long residential trip with School to the afore mentioned town... For up on a Neolithic Burial barrow above the Town, through Grinlow wood, there stands a Monument, Solomons Temple
commissioned by a Victorian do-gooder to ease unemployment in the town, the temple looks out over the peaks, a viewpoint over the surrounding area as impressive as the badly named Surprise View. However, the temple, as it rather grandiosely calls itself stands a mere 20 feet high.
<>
now in my useless memory - I am aware there certainly WAS a sandstone building of sorts - we weren't allowed in it, lest any out of control ten year old fling themselves from the uppermost level, and say, sprain their ankle... No what I recalled was climbing on rocks, scaling down a steep slope and examining a memorial laid in small lumps of limestone for the recent Hillsborough deaths which I neglected to look for last week, ah well.. and being shouted to 'come away from that EDGE girl' - my fear of heights and falling only applies if I am on man made structures, usually chairs - outdoors its perfectly acceptable to lean over a precipice and say 'oooh its a Loooooooooooooooooooooooong way down'
My approach then was accompanied by that low level of internal mirth, I have walked merrily a mile and half up a hill on a very uneven path to see a temple, which is roughly twice and a bit the size of a man walking presumably into it, I pondered briefly if it were a trick of my useless eyes, and perhaps he was walking past it in the foreground, alas he vanished and I concluded at this point, that I may be destined to only find mini monuments, if indeed any full sized ones of an awe inspiring manner actually exist within the county boundary.
Another case in point being Stoke Flat Stone Circle
up on my beloved edges, a 2 hour saunter along from Curbur, including the drop down to Froggatt edge, there sits 'pon the flats, a stone circle, which is by all accounts very hard to find in the summer, despite it being within 50 feet of the main footpath, the bracken is vociferous up there, and the heather mighty distracting, what I hadn't wagered on, one January morn, was that this bordering on imperceptibility in the landscape was due to its being ridiculously tiny..
Again I counter the opinion that prehistoric derbyshire man MUST have been of extremely limited stature, for this circle is smaller then a garden ornament, indeed the main stone (forgive me, I am not Julian Cope, and cannot thus remember the correct terminology) is barely 3 feet high... I have opted to live in this ridiculous belief as it leaves me less underwhelmed by it all, I do not question the sacred nature of the sites, I do not call into mockery the beliefs of those who set about their construction centuries or millenia ago, simply I wonder, precisely why - when in the latter of these 2 examples, on a bloody great plane, surrounded by rather obvious large lumps of rock, they opted to create this place, from where they would revere the sun, observe the passing of the seasons on such a small scale, midgets clearly, or just bone idle...
When Gulliver found himself in Lilliput, tied to the ground by some angry Lilliputians, I wonder did he question that perhaps, this Pygmy race had built a series of monuments in the Derbyshire Peaks.
No, I expect he had other things on his mind.
However, I have come to conclude, that the most likely explanation for the distinct lack of height in native Derbyshire residents is that they are descended of a particularly tiny indigenous race, this also leads rather magnificently into revealing why ALL the Monuments I manage to find whilst out on my travels are in fact Miniature, clearly whilst these are at times underwhelming, and lack the gravitas of say Stone Henge or the Taj Mahal, if we simply accept that they are on a scale correlating directly to the midgetesque status of those who originally built them, well.. it all seems more impressive and frankly, more Plausible.
of course, reader, you now wonder I expect what on earth I am on about.
Let me, explain further
last week, whilst in a state described by some as 'on the verge of breakdown' or myself as 'a bit stressed' I decided to head out to Buxton, to revisit a place I last frequented aged 10 on a week long residential trip with School to the afore mentioned town... For up on a Neolithic Burial barrow above the Town, through Grinlow wood, there stands a Monument, Solomons Temple
commissioned by a Victorian do-gooder to ease unemployment in the town, the temple looks out over the peaks, a viewpoint over the surrounding area as impressive as the badly named Surprise View. However, the temple, as it rather grandiosely calls itself stands a mere 20 feet high.
<>
now in my useless memory - I am aware there certainly WAS a sandstone building of sorts - we weren't allowed in it, lest any out of control ten year old fling themselves from the uppermost level, and say, sprain their ankle... No what I recalled was climbing on rocks, scaling down a steep slope and examining a memorial laid in small lumps of limestone for the recent Hillsborough deaths which I neglected to look for last week, ah well.. and being shouted to 'come away from that EDGE girl' - my fear of heights and falling only applies if I am on man made structures, usually chairs - outdoors its perfectly acceptable to lean over a precipice and say 'oooh its a Loooooooooooooooooooooooong way down'
My approach then was accompanied by that low level of internal mirth, I have walked merrily a mile and half up a hill on a very uneven path to see a temple, which is roughly twice and a bit the size of a man walking presumably into it, I pondered briefly if it were a trick of my useless eyes, and perhaps he was walking past it in the foreground, alas he vanished and I concluded at this point, that I may be destined to only find mini monuments, if indeed any full sized ones of an awe inspiring manner actually exist within the county boundary.
Another case in point being Stoke Flat Stone Circle
up on my beloved edges, a 2 hour saunter along from Curbur, including the drop down to Froggatt edge, there sits 'pon the flats, a stone circle, which is by all accounts very hard to find in the summer, despite it being within 50 feet of the main footpath, the bracken is vociferous up there, and the heather mighty distracting, what I hadn't wagered on, one January morn, was that this bordering on imperceptibility in the landscape was due to its being ridiculously tiny..
Again I counter the opinion that prehistoric derbyshire man MUST have been of extremely limited stature, for this circle is smaller then a garden ornament, indeed the main stone (forgive me, I am not Julian Cope, and cannot thus remember the correct terminology) is barely 3 feet high... I have opted to live in this ridiculous belief as it leaves me less underwhelmed by it all, I do not question the sacred nature of the sites, I do not call into mockery the beliefs of those who set about their construction centuries or millenia ago, simply I wonder, precisely why - when in the latter of these 2 examples, on a bloody great plane, surrounded by rather obvious large lumps of rock, they opted to create this place, from where they would revere the sun, observe the passing of the seasons on such a small scale, midgets clearly, or just bone idle...
Friday 16 April 2010
Bandwagonesque
In absence of an opinion on anything (this is untrue, I have some quite specific opinions about current affairs,but have been set to a clandestine task, or at least I have to provide my opinion officially before releasing it upon the innocent)I am to write a blog,which revolves around the somewhat unlikely premise, of...
"naming five or more characters you find 'rather scrummy' - it has to be the Character, not the actor or actress"
Which essentially means.. 'Oh Ms Fanylion, in the cross over universe, where reality and fiction doth meet, with whom pray tell would thou make the beast with two backs'
So, which fictional characters would I, in the entirely implausible world where such things can happen, do I find attractive...
well...
1: Prentice Mchoan
I can only suggest you read Ian Banks 'The Crow Road', I cannot begin to explain why, you have to Read it to fully understand the appeal, though the 1996 or 1997 BBC adaptation, which cast a young Joseph Mcfadden certainly added to the allure... however he's a real person, and as such against the rules.. bugger
2: Gene Hunt
http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Media/Pix/pictures/2008/02/13/glenister460.jpg
Middle aged, heavy smoking, heavy drinking misogynist, prone to saying deeply unpleasant things about and to his colleagues, beating up nonce's and fitting up criminals.. absolutely irresistible.
3:Dennis Pennis
http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/content/images/2007/08/09/veryimportantpennis1_396x222.jpg
Quite Simply... 'phwoar'
4: Red Fraggle
http://webspace.webring.com/people/gb/blue_rat/red.jpg
Unhinged, be-pigtailed, hyperactive girl fraggle, there's no justification for this, odd, Muppet related sapphic longing, save for her manic eyes and sheer exuberance, past experience taught me, nice girls are shit in bed, they hump your leg and freak you the fuck out, what you want obviously is a potentially bi-polar loony, with pigtails...
5: Malcolm Tucker
http://media.flother.com/apps/files/uploads/originals/malcolm_tucker.jpg
"Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off"
6: Marwood aka 'I'
Slightly less of an alcoholic then his counterpart 'Withnail' , never prone to smearing himself in embrocation, drinking lighter fluid or indeed 'demanding to have some booze' and had the warmer looking coat, which in the grand scheme of things is quite important actually.
7: David Kesslar
http://exclamationmark.files.wordpress.com/2006/09/david-naughton-american-werewolf-1981.jpg
I for one am prepared to overlook the whole lycanthrope issue here, frankly he could eat me the fuck up like a big bad werewolf come the full moon, on the one condition that, prior to that, he rogers me entirely senseless, till I can no longer walk, and think my name is Jeremy
8: 'Shaggy'
http://pouletvous.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/scooby-doo-and-shaggy-copy.jpg
Actually I have never considered the aesthetic merits of a Great Dane owning Hannah Barbara character in my life., though kudos given for combining purple flare with a lime green top, its a look I have championed myself.... however it has been established. that by all accounts, he's about the only being real or otherwise 'pon this earth who could tolerate me. thus I endeavour to develop a burgeoning affection for him.. it could after all be a beautiful thing, or something.
Anyway reader, thats possibly revealed more of my psyche then is reasonable in retrospect, and frankly if you'll excuse me.. the hour draws late, morning beckons, and frankly I could do witha little private time now...
"naming five or more characters you find 'rather scrummy' - it has to be the Character, not the actor or actress"
Which essentially means.. 'Oh Ms Fanylion, in the cross over universe, where reality and fiction doth meet, with whom pray tell would thou make the beast with two backs'
So, which fictional characters would I, in the entirely implausible world where such things can happen, do I find attractive...
well...
1: Prentice Mchoan
I can only suggest you read Ian Banks 'The Crow Road', I cannot begin to explain why, you have to Read it to fully understand the appeal, though the 1996 or 1997 BBC adaptation, which cast a young Joseph Mcfadden certainly added to the allure... however he's a real person, and as such against the rules.. bugger
2: Gene Hunt
http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Media/Pix/pictures/2008/02/13/glenister460.jpg
Middle aged, heavy smoking, heavy drinking misogynist, prone to saying deeply unpleasant things about and to his colleagues, beating up nonce's and fitting up criminals.. absolutely irresistible.
3:Dennis Pennis
http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/content/images/2007/08/09/veryimportantpennis1_396x222.jpg
Quite Simply... 'phwoar'
4: Red Fraggle
http://webspace.webring.com/people/gb/blue_rat/red.jpg
Unhinged, be-pigtailed, hyperactive girl fraggle, there's no justification for this, odd, Muppet related sapphic longing, save for her manic eyes and sheer exuberance, past experience taught me, nice girls are shit in bed, they hump your leg and freak you the fuck out, what you want obviously is a potentially bi-polar loony, with pigtails...
5: Malcolm Tucker
http://media.flother.com/apps/files/uploads/originals/malcolm_tucker.jpg
"Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off"
6: Marwood aka 'I'
Slightly less of an alcoholic then his counterpart 'Withnail' , never prone to smearing himself in embrocation, drinking lighter fluid or indeed 'demanding to have some booze' and had the warmer looking coat, which in the grand scheme of things is quite important actually.
7: David Kesslar
http://exclamationmark.files.wordpress.com/2006/09/david-naughton-american-werewolf-1981.jpg
I for one am prepared to overlook the whole lycanthrope issue here, frankly he could eat me the fuck up like a big bad werewolf come the full moon, on the one condition that, prior to that, he rogers me entirely senseless, till I can no longer walk, and think my name is Jeremy
8: 'Shaggy'
http://pouletvous.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/scooby-doo-and-shaggy-copy.jpg
Actually I have never considered the aesthetic merits of a Great Dane owning Hannah Barbara character in my life., though kudos given for combining purple flare with a lime green top, its a look I have championed myself.... however it has been established. that by all accounts, he's about the only being real or otherwise 'pon this earth who could tolerate me. thus I endeavour to develop a burgeoning affection for him.. it could after all be a beautiful thing, or something.
Anyway reader, thats possibly revealed more of my psyche then is reasonable in retrospect, and frankly if you'll excuse me.. the hour draws late, morning beckons, and frankly I could do witha little private time now...
Wednesday 7 April 2010
I am in the midst of 'Internet apathy'.
Its boring me frankly to have every possible facet of information I might want, need, or indeed not want or need, but now have access to anyway, but a flurry of my fingertips away.
The Sun keeps shining, and theres a whole world beyond the perimeter of brickwork marking the external walls of my house, and true to form.. a whisper of Summer on the wind, and I want to be outside, with a camera, or sweating like a rapist tilling the earth..
And so, operation 'tame the gardens' commenceth.. today, like a handsome prince, with breasts, no horse and a distinct lack of chain mail I set about clearing a path to my front door, through the briar that had engulfed us through the cold wet, and indeed snow covered months that ensued in the latter part of last year, though seem, hopefully to finally be abating... and by Thorny briar, I actually mean an explosion of Lavender, and an unruly mysterious tree thats appeared of its own volition in my flowerbed....
Tomorrow, weather permitting, I wage war with the weeds, erect a lavender restraining fence... and mutter darkly at the front lawn,which, with a bit of luck, or more realistically, cash, and hard work will be a nicely gravelled, low maintenance area, something interesting or nice smelling in the middle, and some planted up tubs dotted here and abouts... in short it will be a bit more grown up looking and easier to keep tidy... not unlike most of the inside of my house of late.. seems I am getting a bit more grown up.. sadly I cannot keep myself tidy, I am fighting depleting collagen and gravity... but the gardening really OUGHT to help.
Outback.. and I of course DON'T mean Australia... I am plotting, literally for the resurrection of my growing fruit and veg, albeit on a much smaller scale then the Allotment I so sorely miss
and I'm going to well and truly piss off a holly tree with my newly acquired saw...
Too long have I procrastinated on what I might do, and what I need to do... fuck it... I shall just press on.. and see what happens. It works with decorating, housework, my life in general and so why should I anticipate it wouldn't work with gardening? too much thinking leads to your ultimate ruin.
let us then take the beginnings of an idea and run amok...
see what happens... and get real dirty in the process..
Oh AND do the gardening too,fnarrr
Its boring me frankly to have every possible facet of information I might want, need, or indeed not want or need, but now have access to anyway, but a flurry of my fingertips away.
The Sun keeps shining, and theres a whole world beyond the perimeter of brickwork marking the external walls of my house, and true to form.. a whisper of Summer on the wind, and I want to be outside, with a camera, or sweating like a rapist tilling the earth..
And so, operation 'tame the gardens' commenceth.. today, like a handsome prince, with breasts, no horse and a distinct lack of chain mail I set about clearing a path to my front door, through the briar that had engulfed us through the cold wet, and indeed snow covered months that ensued in the latter part of last year, though seem, hopefully to finally be abating... and by Thorny briar, I actually mean an explosion of Lavender, and an unruly mysterious tree thats appeared of its own volition in my flowerbed....
Tomorrow, weather permitting, I wage war with the weeds, erect a lavender restraining fence... and mutter darkly at the front lawn,which, with a bit of luck, or more realistically, cash, and hard work will be a nicely gravelled, low maintenance area, something interesting or nice smelling in the middle, and some planted up tubs dotted here and abouts... in short it will be a bit more grown up looking and easier to keep tidy... not unlike most of the inside of my house of late.. seems I am getting a bit more grown up.. sadly I cannot keep myself tidy, I am fighting depleting collagen and gravity... but the gardening really OUGHT to help.
Outback.. and I of course DON'T mean Australia... I am plotting, literally for the resurrection of my growing fruit and veg, albeit on a much smaller scale then the Allotment I so sorely miss
and I'm going to well and truly piss off a holly tree with my newly acquired saw...
Too long have I procrastinated on what I might do, and what I need to do... fuck it... I shall just press on.. and see what happens. It works with decorating, housework, my life in general and so why should I anticipate it wouldn't work with gardening? too much thinking leads to your ultimate ruin.
let us then take the beginnings of an idea and run amok...
see what happens... and get real dirty in the process..
Oh AND do the gardening too,fnarrr
Monday 5 April 2010
I am restrained for my own safety, beneath me the real world seems very far away, people like Lilliputians gawp and point..
a voice next to me says 'oh yes, it VERY high, don't look down will you'
and then without a seconds warning we fly, hurtling through the air at speeds I usually reserve for IN my car, up and down, round corners without breaking, and disconcertingly upside down, at this point my lack of stature leads me to lift out of my seat..and I know, implicitly that I am going to die.
I found myself incapable of speech, say for 'eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee' and 'holy fucking SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT' and yet I am grinning, the manic grin of the adrenalin junkie in a state of terrified Ecstasy..
You see, I,timid sensible, quiet the Fanylion, was in answer to the voice over question "brave enough to ride the Kumali" I was also brave enough to ride the Mumbo Jumbo and the Velocity
I wasn't fool enough to ride ANYTHING that would leave my stomach lurching several feet above my head - I can achieve that sensation on hump back bridges and roads prone to subsidence at speeds greater then 35mph.
Theme Parks, I take it ALL back...I DO see the point, it just too stepping forward from 'no chance' to 'why not' and being in the company of a Friend of a friends boys, who would have essentially carried me ONTO rids if I'd so much as faltered in the queue.
I re-awoke the sleeping youth within, and long may she prosper, all it took was enormous amounts of Adrenalin, and the sensation that your heart may yet burst out of your chest for it beats so hard in anticipation.
By the end of the Holiday, we were risking hypothermia by going outdoors in biting winds, but inspite of the disco goths manflu, we still managed to run around the caravan site, hiding from our children (who were indoors with the fuzzyfelt, paying very little attention to the antics of two giddy adults) we relished in having the swimming pool complex to ourselves, and discovered Buckfast.. a peculiar wine, like cough medicine and ribena.. but not actually unpleasant.
However, the Zoo.
Zoo's are loathsome places, miserable animals far from their natural climes looking about as impressed with being in a muddy field in the North of England, as I was with the 'mono rail' the lure of 'you know the ones with Bums' was sufficient though - I presumed the disco goth was referring to Baboons - on account all apes, great or otherwise are in possession of a rectum...
And so, slowly.. in the cold, we encircled the enclosure.. The children and disco goth were impressed by a small newborn baboon... not AS impressed as we were soon to by.. the Disco Goths protegé piped up, 'm-u-u-m is that DEAD monkey'.. 'no its JUST a baby' 'Noooo, THERE'
And there, back arched in rigamortis, arm outstretched and teeth bared in rictus grin it lay 'pon the grass, the small simian cadaver, I managed a very blurred photograph - mono rails are not the ideal point for photography... largely because they move - we went back later on, but in true Baboon style, they'd carted the corpse off with them.
It is one of those moments, where everything you anticipate has been over ruled by the strangest spectacle, and quite WHAT it says about me I shouldn't like to speculate, but I always find dead animals fascinating and quite funny.
Anyway, reader.. I have to go about my business, and poke the cat in the eye to stop her staring at me quite so intently...
a voice next to me says 'oh yes, it VERY high, don't look down will you'
and then without a seconds warning we fly, hurtling through the air at speeds I usually reserve for IN my car, up and down, round corners without breaking, and disconcertingly upside down, at this point my lack of stature leads me to lift out of my seat..and I know, implicitly that I am going to die.
I found myself incapable of speech, say for 'eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee' and 'holy fucking SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT' and yet I am grinning, the manic grin of the adrenalin junkie in a state of terrified Ecstasy..
You see, I,timid sensible, quiet the Fanylion, was in answer to the voice over question "brave enough to ride the Kumali" I was also brave enough to ride the Mumbo Jumbo and the Velocity
I wasn't fool enough to ride ANYTHING that would leave my stomach lurching several feet above my head - I can achieve that sensation on hump back bridges and roads prone to subsidence at speeds greater then 35mph.
Theme Parks, I take it ALL back...I DO see the point, it just too stepping forward from 'no chance' to 'why not' and being in the company of a Friend of a friends boys, who would have essentially carried me ONTO rids if I'd so much as faltered in the queue.
I re-awoke the sleeping youth within, and long may she prosper, all it took was enormous amounts of Adrenalin, and the sensation that your heart may yet burst out of your chest for it beats so hard in anticipation.
By the end of the Holiday, we were risking hypothermia by going outdoors in biting winds, but inspite of the disco goths manflu, we still managed to run around the caravan site, hiding from our children (who were indoors with the fuzzyfelt, paying very little attention to the antics of two giddy adults) we relished in having the swimming pool complex to ourselves, and discovered Buckfast.. a peculiar wine, like cough medicine and ribena.. but not actually unpleasant.
However, the Zoo.
Zoo's are loathsome places, miserable animals far from their natural climes looking about as impressed with being in a muddy field in the North of England, as I was with the 'mono rail' the lure of 'you know the ones with Bums' was sufficient though - I presumed the disco goth was referring to Baboons - on account all apes, great or otherwise are in possession of a rectum...
And so, slowly.. in the cold, we encircled the enclosure.. The children and disco goth were impressed by a small newborn baboon... not AS impressed as we were soon to by.. the Disco Goths protegé piped up, 'm-u-u-m is that DEAD monkey'.. 'no its JUST a baby' 'Noooo, THERE'
And there, back arched in rigamortis, arm outstretched and teeth bared in rictus grin it lay 'pon the grass, the small simian cadaver, I managed a very blurred photograph - mono rails are not the ideal point for photography... largely because they move - we went back later on, but in true Baboon style, they'd carted the corpse off with them.
It is one of those moments, where everything you anticipate has been over ruled by the strangest spectacle, and quite WHAT it says about me I shouldn't like to speculate, but I always find dead animals fascinating and quite funny.
Anyway, reader.. I have to go about my business, and poke the cat in the eye to stop her staring at me quite so intently...
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