Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Butt surgery
A man in England has paid for his goldfish to have an operation. Not cosmetic surgery, I’m glad to say, but a procedure to relieve it of constipation. The vet managed to unblock the offending poop-duct, and the fish is now convalescing in a beaker of Lucozade. Animal lovers are praising the goldfish owner for spending a considerable sum to save a creature worth loose change, but I suspect that guilt was the motivating factor. Humans are renowned for giving their pets food unsuited to their digestive systems.
Back in my circus days, there was a clown who fed his parrot sausages and baked beans. When I questioned the suitability of this cuisine, he said “How would you like to live on a diet of bird seed and nuts?” There was no point answering such an asinine question. The parrot naturally suffered from wind, but that didn’t bother its owner, who taught it to say “Feeling farty!” before blowing one off. It gave you some warning, I suppose.
If you’ve been reading this post studiously, you will remember that I mentioned cosmetic surgery in the first paragraph. This was no flippant aside, because I have recently been thinking about disturbing news from Brazil. A former beauty queen called Andressa Urach is currently recovering from life-threatening complications arising from buttock enhancement surgery. She underwent the operation prior to participating in the Miss Bumbum pageant of 2012, in which she finished runner-up.
Do the tournament organisers have any responsibility for Miss Urach’s doleful condition? On the one hand, she’s an adult who did what she did of her own free will. But on the other hand, the impresario has a duty of care to his cast. I would be racked with guilt if any of my protégés injured themselves in their eagerness to please me. If these Bumbum events are to continue, they should introduce a rule requiring all the bumbums on display to be 100% natural, with immediate disqualification for any contestant with surgical modifications. It would be no different, in my view, from banning athletes who’ve taken performance-enhancing drugs.
When I mentioned this idea to my friend Smacker Ramrod, he gave it his unqualified blessing. The main attraction of such pageants, he said, was to fantasize about rubbing your face against the contestants’ fleshy parts. A pre-requisite for such pleasurable imaginings, he added, was that the flesh in question was composed of living tissue rather than an inorganic substance. He would rather rub his face on a natural wobbly woman, he said, than a female body made taut with gelatinous implants.
I would like to think that Smacker is speaking for the vast majority of red-blooded men. Whether or not this is so, his endorsement has encouraged me to write to the producers of the Bumbum pageant, advising them to adopt my rule. I will suggest that they call it “the Bananas rule”. I’m not a vain ape, but it would please me to leave a small mark on human history.
Labels: buttock enhancement surgery, constipation, goldfish, Miss Bumbum, parrots
