Just recently, I have been worried that if I went to France on holiday and I died; that I might be punished for it. Yes that is right. A village in France has threatened “severe” punishment for anyone that dies. I have done some investigation in to what might happen to someone who goes against the law and dies, but I can’t speak French. Therefore I have had to interpret the answers in a way I believe they might read. These were:
Je suis vraiment super mec – which means that the ghost of the person will have to put up with Demi Moore talking to it while making phallic clay models for all eternity. And whenever in time they decide to get intimate, it will be with Whoopi Goldberg.
Je suis tout à fait beau – You will smell of blue cheese for all eternity. People will know you are coming by your rotten stench and your ghostly image will be full of blue veins.
Mon français n’est ordures – You will be turned in to a bottle of the cheapest house wine and drunk by me.
So I cannot really afford to go if I am ill.
But diabetes runs in my family. My Dad has it for instance. But then, so does the postman, as does the man at number 42. But I try not to think about the fact that 3 people I know have such a rare illness. So in order to be able to have a holiday to France, I have been sucking on frogs. This is because they secrete goo which can stimulate the release of insulin. Once I have got all the secretion, I eat the remains. Yes, I know eating them does not help as all I need is the secretion, but I am really keen to get the most out of it. I have also been eating elephant dung. Best not to ask about that one.
But I guess this is one of those “How did they find out that frog secretion can help” questions.
Do you not find it even more unusual that at some point in history someone saw an encapsulated hen foetus emerge from a wandering fowl and thought, hmmmm.. I think I’ll eat that as I haven’t had a bite to eat in days, and it seems so much easier to eat what could actually be a solid chicken poo rather then chase down said chicken and cook it.
Of course, this also leads to the other major questions in this quest for the truth, justice and the insanity way. These are:
What came first. The runny egg or the solid yolk or a dose of the shits that made his eyes water for a month?
And why did they decide to boil it in water at some point?
And then to wash it down with, why did they then go and see a cow and think “I should probably give a good tug on those dangly things and drink what comes out”.
A thank you to my esteemed best man at my wedding for some of the text in this post.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 