Pity the anteater, that's what I say.
I've just watched a documentary about anteaters (the Samaritans were engaged again) and I can definitely empathise with them.
First of all, they're not exactly the best looking animals on the planet. All right, I know, "Go on Reg, define a good looking animal?" For those of us not into bestiality, it is obviously very much a matter of taste. Me, I think you have puppies, kittens, koala bears, gorillas and pandas at one end of the scale and proboscis monkeys, sloths, camels and Ann Widdecombe at the other.
Anteaters tend towards Ms Widdecombe's unique yet challenging looks, I think. They are shaped very much like those awful TR7 cars used to be - very thin at one end, getting progressively wider until they end up as an ugly, obvious and boring wedge shape. Then there is that nose! It's not so much as a nose stuck on the front of an animal as an animal stuck on the base of a nose.
Secondly, what does life hold for an ambitious, young anteater? Well, shagging, shitting and eating ants seems to be very much the pre-mapped career course. The first two we all do so they're hardly unique - well, Pither hasn't taken a trip to the land of fluid exchange for a while but he is certainly no stranger to the porcelain palace. That leaves the third selling point. Eating ants all fucking day can't be a big laugh. "What did you do today, Nigel?" "Well, I ate some ants, then had a wander, then ate some more ants, then had a break, then ate some more ants and then I went to bed." How boring is that? No wonder you don't find any Blogs done by anteaters!!
Thirdly, and this negates everything said in the paragraph above, it turns out that anteaters don't actually eat ants!!! They eat termites. Just picture the scene - there you are, a boring, pointy, hairy git with a massive conk and just one hobby in life and along comes some fucking idiot taxonomist and gets your name wrong!!! The ONLY thing you can do well and it's ignored by the outside world. It's akin to calling a coathanger a trouser press or a sock a shoe.
I don't know why the plight of the anteater has touched me so deeply. As I said, I think I can see parallels in the Life of Pither. I want an anteater - sorry, a termiteeater (hey, maybe that's why the called it an anteater? Those two "e"s just don't look right!) - and I want to broaden its horizons.
It could sit with me, watch Saturday Kitchen and learn to experiment. I could persuade it to shave its tail and walk backwards so that it looked more like other mammals. It could start a Blog. It could walk proudly into the street and tell passers-by "I'm a termiteeater, I am, and I'm not ashamed. So what that I have two "e"? Suffer, baby. I am pointy and proud."
"Goodbye ants (well, termites really)......hello world!!!"
.....................Oh God! I've just re-read all of this. I'm not well, you know. I think there is something drastically wrong with me, deep inside. I'm just a step away from life in one of those fetching white jackets with the belts which fasten at the back.
Anyway, I'm off to watch the rugby this afternoon so that will make me feel better, I've no doubt. We can't lose. It's only Australia, after all, and we did beat the Brownies second XV to qualify for the quarters.
I am going to send myself to Grantham - there, that will put an end to all this rubbish!! Goodbye cruel world!!!!
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Shaggy Blog Stories
7 comments:
WE WON!
I think anteaters are cute.
Eggshells - a song in the bluegrass style
There’s eggshells in the kitchen
and eggshells in the hall
There’s eggshells in the parlour
and eggshells in the small. . .
. . .(est room in the house)
There’s eggshells on the front porch
and eggshells by the door
I just don’t know if I can put my foot down anymore
There’s eggshells on the boardwalk
and eggshells by the sea
There’s eggshells every darnwhere,
I’ve noticed recently
I can’t take a single step
without treading on your nerves
If I find the chicken who’s a-laying these eggs
I’d have another verse
There’s eggshells in the backyard
and eggshells on the deck
There’s eggshells in the outhouse
and eggshells. . .
. . .what the heck!
those eggshells are just about everywhere
There’s eggshells in the bedroom
And some in my boudoir
I just don’t know where I can place my ample derriere
There’s eggshells on a Sunday
every day of every week
Those eggshells are about to ruin my life,
the outlook is so bleak
I can’t make a single move
without worryin’ ‘bout how you feel
If I find the chicken that’s a-laying these eggs,
we’ll have a damn fine meal
since you wanted to communicate in song, I thought this appropriate (but you do have to know Blue Grass music to get it)(do you know Blue Grass music Mr Pither? do you? do you?)
I'd sing it to you in person, only my person is in London and yours is in a pub not in Grantham watching a rugby match. . .
so there you go, you're saved a fate worse than death and I'm saved blushing
of course, this has nothing to do with the rugby whatsoever but since we won you probably don't really care anyhow!
I'm only leaving this comment to prove that I was up really really early this morning. . .
maybe the anteater was classified before termites were deemed to be termites? if this is the case, there is nothing wrong with you whatsoever (apart from the fact you had koala bears and pandas on your list, but not polar bears)(what's wrong with polar bears?!)
see, another pointless comment
Grantham is starting to seem quite attractive
ILTV,
Do you know, I actually put in polar bears and then took them out because I had too many cuties and not enough uglies!
I sent myself to Grantham so you can come too, keep me company and chat about polar bears and gorillas.
*goes off to study gorillas, she she can impress Mr P with her knowledge of hairy creatures*
(how about orangutans?)
:-)
I love orangs. Not a of people know, but two years ago I came within a gnat's breath of going on a six-month sabatical to Borneo to work with rescued orangs! Sadly, life got in the way and began soaking up the money I'd saved for the episode. Still, one day?
one day, indeed!
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