Today one of them begged me for information, writing “as an expert on the social anthropology of Ancient Mesopotamian mating rituals, what is your opinion regarding this?”
Okay!
Me so expert Mesopotamian bouncy stuff!
Oh yeah!
Given the blithering innocence of his query, I felt confident winging it.
Dear Grass-Eye,
Glad you asked.
It obviously refers to chickens.
Not, as Hamster von Strumpel and Simon Peabody would have it, the live chicken biting and scratching during abusive sessions, but the feather duster wielded as a potent symbol of masculinity and dominance, flicked till a crescendo has been reached.
Compare, for instance, with the fly-whisks illustrated in Pharaonic frescoes, and still a symbol of virile royalty in parts of Asia.
Chickens additionally signify a diet rich on oily curries, with a sufficiency of turmeric, ginger, and black pepper. All of these ingredients were exotic recent imports in the Ancient Near-East (Mesopotamia), and therefore were considered to increase power and drive.
Especially if the curry also included oysters.
Which is a great combination, by the way - chicken, chicken liver, kidneys, and plenty of fresh oysters added later to poach in the hot spicy gravy.
If you have no fresh oysters, the same savoury effect may be achieved by adding mussels or clams. Even a dash of amber fish sauce, or dollop of stinky fish-paste (rather like the garum which the Romans used in their cooking, and very suitable as a personal unguent at an orgy).
Buon gusto!
---ATBOTH
Expert on Ancient Mesopotamian mating rituals.
[NOTE: Firewall objectionable crap has been removed, so that Agent Left Testicle. can also participate in the discussion. Being, as is known, the primary instigator of these kinds of e-mail exchanges and an s-disturber besides. Troubled childhood, traumatic teenage years.]
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CIGAR-SMOKING YAHOOS
That was this morning. At mid-day, when I arrived at the wall, the Cigar Gang dudes were chivying "Lefty", who was looking considerably the worse for wear. It must have been a long evening last night, what with him giving guided tours of his favourite Oak-town basements to orphans or some such. Which he does for charity.
They snapped at his heels like a pack of feral dogs.
Or rats killing the sick members of the herd.
Tomorrow all of them will meet at the collider to discuss the script.
I have other plans, and better things to do. Involving normal people.
Consequently I shan't be anywhere near the strange yobbos at all.
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