From the Abyss

~ an occasional collection of idiocies ~

This one comes courtesy of our very own, sharp-eyed Duke of Democracy:

Choque horreur. The Gothic towers of Lichfield Cathedral - known as “The Ladies of the Vale” for as long as anyone can remember - have a potentially sexist nickname.

The Dean and Chapter have been approached by the Birmingham office of the Equality Commission because “Ladies” is deemed an inappropriate term for the landmark.

Le Duc d'Democ got me on the last one: Blue Suede shoe this, dude.

'Body language' betrays too-slow poop scoop. This is exactly the sort of rubbish this Abyss section was made for. What the hell do those meter maids know about body language? Of course the case was laughed out of court.

Know the sort of body language they would understand? Having their snotty warden noses rubbed so hard and long in the doggy excrement that there'd be no need to fetch a fresh scoop bag from the Lexus. *And* it'd give the crowd a good laff while they're about it.

Civic-minded python eats Cat - I can see that 'Abyss' will never lack for fresh fodder.

Rod Liddle excellent in the Spectator on the ghastly-sounding Martin and Helen Wadey whose moggie 'Wilbur' (damfool name; you can tell what sort of drips people are just by how they name their pets. But I digress) was eaten by next door's pet python (No, of course that's not a snap of the Wilbur-digesting reptile stalwart).

"Not just eaten, mind, but, according to press reports, ‘crushed, asphyxiated and consumed whole’.

I don’t know what the Daily Telegraph would have preferred the python to do — maybe stun Wilbur humanely with some sort of electrical device before flambéing his liver for a light supper, accompanied by a glass of Chablis. (Tsssp, to paraphrase the gourmet Professore Lecter)

Whatever, Martin and Helen heard ‘blood-chilling cries’ emanating from their neighbour’s garden and immediately suspected that it was Wilbur. They were right! The RSPCA turned up and with some piece of hi-tech equipment detected the cat’s ID chip inside the python’s bulging stomach and the faintest, defeated, plaintive miaow.

Laugh? At this point of the story I was paralytic with mirth and jubilation."

Moi non plus. But onward:

"The bloody Wadeys are now petitioning 10 Downing Street for a change in the law. They want to introduce an amendment to the Dangerous and Wild Animals Act which would ensure that heavy restrictions are placed upon the people who wish to own such creatures as snakes. They have called this proposed adjustment to the law ‘Wilbur’s Amendment’. This little nugget of information may make you feel slightly nauseous, as if you too had just digested a whole cat without so much as a side salad of rocket dressed with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. But, despite that, I suggest that we keep the title — ‘Wilbur’s Amendment’ — but change the legislation so that cats are classed as dangerous and wild animals and that ordinary members of the public, when faced with a cat prowling in their back garden, may take arms against them so as to protect both their property and the lives of asylum-seeking wild animals which may have taken refuge there."

Great stuff - what I buy the Spectator for, as well as Taki in the same issue anchored off Corfu and reporting sizzlingly from the flight deck of S/Y Bushido.

Reading snippets of Rod to our assembled guests, great was our own mirth and jubilation over the Samos and strawberries.