Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Short shrift
A British woman has been given a “suspended sentence” for stabbing her boyfriend in the shoulder. Apparently this means she won’t go to prison. She has also patched things up with her boyfriend, who after recovering from his injury has resumed his courtship of her. Fortune favours the furious female, as we say in the jungle.
In fairness to the woman, the stabbing was not unprovoked. During one of their arguments, her boyfriend had called her “a dwarf and a midget”. Although she is undeniably short in stature, she had a right not to be called names by one who professed to be her lover.
The picture of the couple above displays the disparity in heights. It’s remarkable that she managed to reach the man’s shoulder. She must have plunged the blade while jumping in the air, which is no mean feat for a novice in the art of batto jutsu. It would have been much easier to deliver a wound to the belly or groin, causing untold damage to the man’s vitals. Maybe this was one of the mitigating factors that persuaded the judge to treat her leniently.
Another interesting aspect of this case is that the boyfriend initially told the police he had been attacked by an unknown assailant. The truth only came out after the couple had a brief separation. Did he reverse his decision to shield her from justice after getting dumped? If so, he is a man of weak character. You can’t go back on a decision to forgive a woman just because she won’t sleep with you. That’s behaving like a whiny little bitch.
Now it goes without saying that a petite woman is nothing like a dwarf. I speak as one who worked with dwarves during his circus career. Dwarves are bow-legged creatures with big heads who are sexually attractive to fetishists and masochists. Petite women are generally well-regarded and admired by the wider community. Some might say Miley Cyrus is an exception to the rule, but I wouldn’t agree with them. Look at the number of fans she has.
My favourite petite woman is Charlene Tilton, who played Lucy Ewing in Dallas. I remember some insufferable TV critic calling Lucy “the poisoned dwarf”, a nickname which sadly caught on among the boorish and the insolent. In my estimation she was the best character in the show, courageously fending off the sarcastic barbs of JR and the others while single-mindedly pursuing her own passions amid all the scheming and skulduggery.
It’s also worth pointing out that Charlene is no waif. Unlike Miley Cyrus, she has a remarkably full figure. On balance, I would say that it’s better for a petite woman to have an ample bosom. Otherwise, she might look too boyish and attract the wrong sort of man. Could this also explain why Charlene never had a bi-curious phase in her life? Maybe I’m wrong about this, but women who experiment with same-sex dalliances never seem to have big boobs.
Labels: Charlene Tilton, dwarf, Dwarves, lesbian, Miley Cyrus
Wednesday, September 03, 2014
Ice bucket challenge
I’ve noticed that a lot of humans have been dousing themselves with buckets of ice-cold water. One mustn’t mock them because they’re doing it in a good cause, but I don’t see the point of the exercise, unless the good cause is finding work for unemployed towels. When I decide to support a worthy charity, I reach into my jungle sporran for a gold coin and toss it in the direction of the authorised collector. Buckets of cold water, if any be loitering in attendance, are emptied into the Congo River to cool off the crocodiles.
To my human friends who would like to accept the challenge but are fearful of screaming like a sissy, I offer the following advice: it won’t feel so bad if you prepare yourself for the ordeal by roasting yourself on a spit for two minutes. The manager of the safari camp was not moved to action when I made this suggestion, but his wife’s eyes lit up in apparent enthusiasm:
“I like to have a cold shower after my weekly Zumba session,” she said. “You could easily climb above the cubicle and throw a bucket of cold water over me. It’s okay for a gorilla to see me naked because it’s like being examined by a doctor. But wait for me to shampoo my hair first.”
I scratched my armpits in contemplation before making the following reply:
“Madam, I am flattered by your confidence in my tossing ability and gratified by your faith in my clinical objectivity. However, what you propose is work for a chimpanzee rather than a gorilla. If you wish, I will dispatch a competent bucketeer to your cubicle at an agreed time. He may not be as poker-faced as me, but I will instruct him to refrain from hooting or whistling.”
She told me she would like to meet the chimp first, so I agreed to arrange an interview.
Now, an actress called Olivia Wilde has performed the feat with a liquid other than water. In a video clip posted on YouTube, she spoke these words to the camera before soaking herself:
“I hope it's okay, I couldn't find any water, so I'm going to use breast milk. It took me all night to make this.”
The contents of the bucket did look like milk, but I’ll change my name to Latte Macchiato if it came from her udders. I suspect her improbable boast was an attempt to talk up the value of her boobs. An up-and-coming actress is always looking for ways to increase her bargaining power with the movie moguls. Yet I’m far from convinced that the milk-producing capacity of her jahoobies indicates how appetising they would look on film.
It’s possible, of course, that Miss Wilde was simply making a joke. If so, it was much less funny than the shrieks she emitted after drenching herself, which made her sound like a dowager having her knickers pulled down by a dwarf. What definitely wasn’t funny was all that milk going to waste. When I think of all the hungry baby dwarves, it makes me want to weep.
Labels: breast milk, dwarf, Dwarves, ice cold water, jahoobies, screaming like a sissy
Friday, August 17, 2012
Dwarf complaint
I got an email accusing me of being prejudiced against dwarves:
Mr Bananas
I have searched your blog for posts mentioning dwarves and found more than 10 of them. In these posts, you have stated or implied that dwarves are nasty, lecherous, perverted, jealous and bow-legged. Shame on you for having such bigoted views! How would you like if I said all gorillas were chest-thumping brutes? In future, please think before you express such offensive opinions!
Mulch Diggums
It’s a very uncomfortable feeling when someone searches the entire output of your blog for evidence that you’ve maligned a disadvantaged group. My regular readers will know that I rarely mention dwarves in any context. When I do bring them up, it’s usually in an anecdote concerning the delightful little gnomes I knew in my circus days. Admittedly they were prone to sulks and tantrums, but this is true of all temperamental performers. When a female acrobat called them “despicable midgets”, I told her to moderate her language. One must never antagonise a dwarf without good reason.
Anyway, I informed Mr Diggums that I had worked with dwarves in the circus and had treated them as respectfully as circumstances allowed (bearing in mind that I had to toss them when we were rehearsing and performing). Outside of the ring, they had no better friend than Gorilla Bananas. The dwarfish community remains dear to my heart, and I would fart in the face of anyone who pursued a vendetta against them.
This misunderstanding about dwarves brings up the question of how sensitive one should be when discussing minorities. To my way of thinking, all humans belong to a minority group of one kind or another. Consider men with big noses. They are often mocked by other humans and sometimes resort to cosmetic surgery. Are they unfairly stigmatised?
The question is not a simple one, because some men are actually proud of their prodigious conkers. My old friend Smacker Ramrod says his long nose was an invaluable tool in sexual foreplay. He claims that women loved it when he nuzzled them in their tender parts. I took his word for it, although I couldn’t quite see why a squidgy facial appendage would work better than a finger.
When I asked the manager of the safari camp whether having a big nose was a handicap, his answer was unequivocal:
“Of course it’s a disadvantage!” he declared. “Look at Barry Manilow. He must be the only millionaire pop star that no woman under the age of 47 ever wanted to sleep with. Compare him with Mick Hucknall. That ginger-haired brute slept with thousands of groupies during the peak of his fame. Swap their noses and it would have been a different story.”
I should mention that Hucknall, rubicund satyr though he may be, has since apologised to the girls he callously used to feed his carnal appetite. But would he have been able to seduce them in the first place if his nose had been like Barry Manilow’s?
Labels: Barry Manilow, big noses, dwarf, Dwarves, Mick Hucknall
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Circus of Horrors
I was very displeased to hear that a snooty Oxford college has banned The Circus of Horrors from its May Ball. Although I never appeared at such minor events in my own career, I resent this disdainful treatment of my fellow circus performers. Furthermore, I coached a few members of this company when they were struggling apprentices, it being my hairy paw that put them on the path to success. Those who insult the gorilla’s protégés insult the gorilla too.
So what in the Circus of Horrors has upset the weak stomachs of the college authorities? One of the artistes, known as Captain Dan, is a dwarf who pulls household appliances with his private parts. Let me say at once that he is not one of those that I tutored. I never taught trainees to do anything with their todgers other than keep them in their pants. Dwarves being dwarves, however, they often took the expression of their creative impulses into their own hands.
It’s worth pointing out that there is nothing particularly shocking about a dwarf’s genitals. They are no smaller, on average, than those of a normal-sized man. Yet this very quality makes them appear unnaturally large on their undersized bodies. Women are often caught out by this optical illusion and unduly flustered as a result.
There was one very bad episode of gnome exposure in the circus I worked in. During a pay dispute with the management, the dwarves decided that withdrawing labour would be a less effective form of industrial action than flashing at female performers shortly before they appeared in the ring. They were right. The acrobat team had a particularly bad time of it, struggling to maintain their composure while executing their gymnastic feats. Those who think that performing artists should not be affected by such things should try it themselves before talking. Forming a human pyramid is no easy task with the image of a dwarf’s dangly bits burned into your mind. The management soon acceded to their pay demand.
None of the above justifies barring Captain Dan from the Oxford ball. Although some female students might find his act disturbing, they will not be required to perform acrobatics shortly afterwards. If the sight becomes too much for them, they can scream and bury their faces as they might when watching a horror film. I doubt many of them would get a good view of the taut appendage in any case. A dwarf with a vacuum cleaner attached to his knob is only fully exposed when the eye line is perpendicular to the direction of motion.
The Circus of Horrors should treat this snub with the defiance it deserves. I shall advise them to hold their own unofficial ball on the croquet lawn of a nearby stately home. This will upstage the staid college balls, bereft of penile-towing dwarves and other abominable freaks. As we say in the safari business, the squeamishness of the few should not preclude the titillation of the many.
Labels: Circus of Horrors, dwarf, Oxford ball, todger
