Wednesday, December 02, 2015
Aerial assualt
I draw your attention to a strange and disturbing news story from Kuwait, where an 8-year-old boy is standing trial for molesting his school teacher. The young fellow allegedly manufactured a paper aeroplane which he fired into the teacher’s “lower back region” – a polite Kuwaiti term for the bumcakes. The prosecutor has demanded a 5-year prison term for the boy, who was in shock when he appeared in court, telling the judge that he didn’t know why he was there.
Before denouncing the Kuwaitis as towel-headed apostles of the child catcher in Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang, we should recognise that many women are extremely sensitive about their posteriors. In all probability, the teacher had a sizeable rump which was a major hazard for low-flying projectiles. To have such a sensitive area of her anatomy assaulted in this way would have deflated her self-esteem and inflated her body image. I hope she has received counselling from a psychologist to reassure her that her bum is not as big as she thinks it is. No woman should go through life believing that her rear-end is a legitimate target for paper aeroplanes.
As for the boy, he may be wholly innocent of any malicious intent. The news report indicates that he dreamt of becoming an aviation engineer. We can therefore assume that the paper aeroplane was expertly constructed and found its own banking curve. Lacking navigation tools, evasive manoeuvres would have been impossible when a large fleshy object appeared in its flight path. If I were the judge, I would call witnesses who saw the boy’s reaction when the collision occurred. Only if he clapped his hands and hooted would there be any solid evidence against him.
This doesn’t mean I approve of putting an 8-year-old child on trial, of course. The Kuwaitis have their own peculiar customs which would not be appropriate in a gorilla habitat. When I was in the circus, I often looked after the children of performers who had gone out for a night on the town. For human infants, a gorilla is the most awesome Super Nanny who ever took up the profession of nannying. I didn’t need to say much to them, but when I did they followed my instructions to the letter.
One on occasion, I saw a naughty boy poke a girl in the eye and make her cry. After consoling the girl, I ordered the boy to report to a certain clown and offer to pick the clown’s nose with the finger he had used to assault the girl. Knowing the clown as I did, I was certain that he would accept the offer. The boy was sullen, but assented to the punishment and returned with a soiled finger, which I told him to wash with soap and water.
This incident caused the other children to marvel at the wisdom of my judgments.
“Why can’t our parents be like you, GB?” they asked.
“Because they are not gorillas,” I replied.
The children opened their mouths in wide-eyed wonder and marvelled yet more.
Labels: big bum, buttocks, flight path, nanny, nose-picking
Friday, February 22, 2008
Courting trouble
A tourist asks me what my greatest fear is. I reply that I live in dread of being sued for damages. At least being eaten by a predator is over fairly quickly. These legal disputes can drag on for ever while rapacious lawyers feed on your liquid assets like leeches. Thankfully, no one would waste time pressing a suit against me in the
This ugly business of suing people first came to my notice in
Libel is less of a worry in
“Watch where yer goin’ yer big hairy baboon!” he snarled.
“Are you addressing me or your wife?” I asked in reply, seeking clarity on the facts before commenting on his outburst.
This perfectly straightforward question caused him to swing his fist wildly at me. Fortunately, I managed to intercept the blow with my head, which caused him to drop to his knees and bleat like an injured moose, clutching his hand in agony. It turned out that he’d broken several bones, but he could hardly blame me for that. Or so I thought. A month later, when we were giving a show in
The ringmaster wanted to take legal advice, but I argued strongly against it. I told him to leave the matter in my hands and let me bear the consequences. All I did was return the letter to sender after writing the following sentence at the bottom with a fountain pen:
The demands made in this communication are frivolous and without merit.
I never found out what the denouement was, because we left the country a week later. As a precaution, however, I arranged for all my
These wretched lawsuits seem to get sillier and sillier. The latest one that made me want to thump my chest was a claim for $6 million by an exhibitionist street performer who calls himself “The Naked Cowboy”. He alleges trademark infringement by a maker of confectionaries that used the nude cowpoke motif in an advertisement. This is preposterous. If a man can copyright stripping off his clothes and putting on a cowboy hat, the law is an ass with carrot up its backside. How I wish someone would find an old photo of Wyatt Earp in the buff to prove that this bare-bodied busker was not the originator of his cockamamie modus operandi. The living descendants of Mr Earp could then sue Billy the Nekkid for the very transgression he accuses others of. “Let every poisonous snake enjoy a dose of its own venom,” as we say in the jungle.
Labels: big bum, Billy the Nekkid, lawsuit, libel
