Monday, May 15, 2006
Walk on the wild side
It’s good to hear that the Russian authorities have allowed Karl Bushby, the persistent pedestrian, to carry on walking across their county. This will help to counter the widespread – yet erroneous – belief that Russians are sour-faced xenophobes who never smile. Great writer though he was, Alexander “Sunny” Solzhenitsyn didn’t really help the image of his countrymen by portraying them as people who did nothing but suffer oppression or, if the opportunity arose, oppressed others. Allowing a lunatic to wander through your land unmolested is clear proof that you can appreciate a good joke as much as the next man. Can Bushby now dare to hope that rosy-faced peasants will greet him warmly during his hike across Mother Russia, inviting him into their homes for the symbolic meal of bread dipped in salt? If I were President Pootikins, I would issue a decree ordering them to do so, on pain of being ravished by the Cossacks. Having opened their door to the itinerant stranger, the Russians should exploit the opportunity to excel in the hospitality stakes as well.
Should we bother to inquire why Bushby is so intent on traversing the globe on foot? Suffice it to say that he is British, an ex-paratrooper and likes to wear a beard. That’s eccentricity, masochism and delusions of hairiness in a single human being. It would be surprising if such a man were not embarked on some foolhardy enterprise. However, I give him credit for staying close to sea level rather than trying to scale some abominable peak. At least walking around the world will let him see a few sights, learn a language or two, and wolf-whistle at any scantily-clad females who cross his path. On the top of a mountain there is nothing but snow and ice, and no man needs nothing.
Wild animals would strongly support Bushby’s right to roam, in spite of being bemused at the pointlessness of it all. There are no fences in the wild and you can go wherever you want within reason. Admittedly, you might get a good drubbing if you belong to a territorial species and stray into someone else’s patch, but there’s plenty of wilderness that belongs to no one. The off-limits areas, moreover, are clearly scent-marked by animals pissing on the trees.
This brings up the interesting question of where Bushby intends to relieve himself while passing through the Russian countryside. Urinating in the forests would confuse the bears, while defecating on the ground would be a gross affront to local pride. The symbolism of a foreigner shitting on Russian soil would surely be unbearable for a nation still recovering from Operation Barbarossa. I would advise Bushby to pee into empty petrol canisters, which could then be donated to scientists interested in the hormonal make-up of the rugged British adventurer. He should also scrape up his poop into doggy bags to be offered to grateful peasants for use as fuel or manure. It’s little gestures like these that will help to build bridges of goodwill and trust between the estranged tribes of the great human family.
Should we bother to inquire why Bushby is so intent on traversing the globe on foot? Suffice it to say that he is British, an ex-paratrooper and likes to wear a beard. That’s eccentricity, masochism and delusions of hairiness in a single human being. It would be surprising if such a man were not embarked on some foolhardy enterprise. However, I give him credit for staying close to sea level rather than trying to scale some abominable peak. At least walking around the world will let him see a few sights, learn a language or two, and wolf-whistle at any scantily-clad females who cross his path. On the top of a mountain there is nothing but snow and ice, and no man needs nothing.
Wild animals would strongly support Bushby’s right to roam, in spite of being bemused at the pointlessness of it all. There are no fences in the wild and you can go wherever you want within reason. Admittedly, you might get a good drubbing if you belong to a territorial species and stray into someone else’s patch, but there’s plenty of wilderness that belongs to no one. The off-limits areas, moreover, are clearly scent-marked by animals pissing on the trees.
This brings up the interesting question of where Bushby intends to relieve himself while passing through the Russian countryside. Urinating in the forests would confuse the bears, while defecating on the ground would be a gross affront to local pride. The symbolism of a foreigner shitting on Russian soil would surely be unbearable for a nation still recovering from Operation Barbarossa. I would advise Bushby to pee into empty petrol canisters, which could then be donated to scientists interested in the hormonal make-up of the rugged British adventurer. He should also scrape up his poop into doggy bags to be offered to grateful peasants for use as fuel or manure. It’s little gestures like these that will help to build bridges of goodwill and trust between the estranged tribes of the great human family.
Comments:
<< Home
I've checked his website for information on the jobby question.
He carries postage paid, plastic lined jiffy bags into which he does his business. These are dropped off at major post offices on his route and subsequently arrive “par avion” at his local authority sewage treatment plant where they are dealt with in the normal way. His support team ( mother and Mrs Piper next door ) send replenishment bag supplies and Andrex with aloe vera, ahead of him for collection.
He carries postage paid, plastic lined jiffy bags into which he does his business. These are dropped off at major post offices on his route and subsequently arrive “par avion” at his local authority sewage treatment plant where they are dealt with in the normal way. His support team ( mother and Mrs Piper next door ) send replenishment bag supplies and Andrex with aloe vera, ahead of him for collection.
Wow, imagine being the first person to walk around the earth! Imagine the sights you would see! Imagine being able to say at parties, "yeah, I've walked all the way around the world, it was a doddle."
Come to think of it, I want to be the one who is the first person to walk around the earth.
Lets kill him.
Come to think of it, I want to be the one who is the first person to walk around the earth.
Lets kill him.
You've obviously never been to Siberia, GB. Threaten the peasants with ravishment by Cossacks? Have you met those peasants? Exactly who is being punished here?
That blondie Brit will be lucky to survive as far as Irkutsk as it is. Your standard babushka will make short work of those slim hips...
That blondie Brit will be lucky to survive as far as Irkutsk as it is. Your standard babushka will make short work of those slim hips...
I find it hard to believe that Russia is stil trying to recover from Operation Barbarella.
While the sensuality was probably too much for them to take, and almost impossible for them to properly describe in cyrillic, they need to just come to terms with Barbarella the same way every other space-faring nation has.
When facing terrible loss, such as the death of a close loved one or the loss of an incisor (easier for you to relate to, ape), the only thing a being can do is to decide to either pack it in or move on.
Moving on doesn't mean that the loss is healed. Time dulls the pain, but nothing except death can erase it. (Archeologically the loss of an incisor is actually more permanent than the loss of a loved one. MY sympathies, ape.)
So, Russia, quit trying to recover from the unrecoverable. Jane Fonda is far more permanant than even your stoicism or vodka-pickled livers.
You don't recover from Operation Barbarella, you just survive; that should be enough.
While the sensuality was probably too much for them to take, and almost impossible for them to properly describe in cyrillic, they need to just come to terms with Barbarella the same way every other space-faring nation has.
When facing terrible loss, such as the death of a close loved one or the loss of an incisor (easier for you to relate to, ape), the only thing a being can do is to decide to either pack it in or move on.
Moving on doesn't mean that the loss is healed. Time dulls the pain, but nothing except death can erase it. (Archeologically the loss of an incisor is actually more permanent than the loss of a loved one. MY sympathies, ape.)
So, Russia, quit trying to recover from the unrecoverable. Jane Fonda is far more permanant than even your stoicism or vodka-pickled livers.
You don't recover from Operation Barbarella, you just survive; that should be enough.
What you didn't mention GB is that he was allowed to proceed on his mad wanderings by none other than the foootball loving oligarch himself Roman Abramovich. Maybe Busby is a Chelsea supporter. Romany is governor of the state in which Busby found himself, though whether he was elected or just bought it one day whilst shopping in Harvey Nichols I have no idea.
I wonder how chaps like him manage to obtain the fundage to just take off walking one day. ~Heigh ho, Heigh ho, it's around the world I go, I walk all day, and never play, Heigh Ho, heigh HO heigh ho heigh HO ~
:-D
:-D
I tried a trek akin to what Bushby is attempting once. I made it to the milk bar down the street and decided it was too.... 'pointless' isn't the word I'm looking for but it'll do for now. Anyhoo I defecated about three times on this journey. And we're talking a ten minute walk here. When you're trekking over eleven time zones and encountering numerous armed East Europeans (mercenaries, bandits, angry babushkas etc.) who ask you who the hell you are and what you're doing on their land I don't think he's going to have enough ziploc bags to stop English feces from touching Russian soil.
I'd have had more respect for him if he'd done the trek in without clothes, like Stephen Gough The Naked Rambler
Post a Comment
<< Home
