Day 23 (9 April) - On the nature of love and beauty
In a previous age, when I was still at school, my good friend Kipper suggested that it would make sense if your willy were attached to the end of a finger. The most practical of the three justifications he gave was the prospect of peeing out of a car window on a long drive without having to stop. Another version of such biological modification presented itself to me just yesterday.
Alfie and myself love our evening walks. It’s that magical time of year when the trees are dressed in blossom, the birds pop from their eggs and the farmer sprays hectolitres of premium pig slurry absolutely everywhere. I didn’t notice yesterday until we were almost home that Alfie was knocking sparrows out of the sky. A nose-clenching eye-watering acid stench of pig poo radiated from paws and pores. In her defence, Alfie told me the farmer sprays this stuff for her entertainment and so she the rolls in it with abandon in order not to upset him.
Frankly, the smell could not have been worse if I had left her on the farm and brought the pigs back to watch Netflix with me.
Hence the tea cosy.
When things got too bad I just pulled it down over my nose. I couldn’t smell Alfie - but then I couldn’t breathe either.
And Netflix just wasn’t the same.
Which brings me back to the beginning of the story and Kipper’s inspiration for bio-engineering.
It occurred to me this morning that if we could breathe through the ends of our fingers I could have stuck a hand out of the window and still watched the film. Such a simple modification would allow me to wade through deep water, sniff out the best choices when proffered a chocolate and, best of all these days, rather than using the inside of an elbow, I could sneeze straight into a pocket.
Of course, I would suffocate when doing the shopping. But I do that now when I wear a mask (Day 18 of this blog).
Noses would still be needed for propping up glasses, but your nostrils could be put to much better use. Onboard storage space perhaps.
I have mailed Elon Musk and offered to let him in on this one.
Unicorns - not all they are cracked up to be
I saw a sad and lonely old horse on the pig poo walk. I thought, if he just had a horn he would be a unicorn and everyone would admire him.
Think about it. We have the time.
Horns are made of keratin - which is the hardened protein to be found in your nails, your skin and your hair. The same stuff as toe nails.
So, essentially, if you were to collect and compact a kilo or so of your old toe nail clippings you could mould and shape them and upgrade Neddy to superstar status.
Just how fickle and shallow can we be?
Alfie has been the most faithful and loving of companions for five years and yet an olfactory accident made me doubt my affection.
And Neddy is sad and lonely simply for want of your toe nail clippings.
This says something about our values and our perception of value.
Sometimes we are blinded to the qualities of those we love and become fixated on perceived shortcomings.
Sometimes, as we see with our attraction to film stars, minstrels of various stripes and the hot looking person in customer service, we are blinded by sham and show.
So before you get led astray from truth and beauty just ask yourself what that siren's toe nails are like.
This might seem a little confused - but it was written by a man with a slurry impregnated tea cosy covering his head.
In the meantime, while waiting for confinement to transform us all into magical creatures with perfect relationships, just paint yourselves rainbow colours and try not to breathe too deeply.
Keep safe and tell your loved ones how much you care.
Please forgive me if I don’t always reply to comments!
It won’t let me!