Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Men of Nature's calling
Someone suggested that we gorillas should hold a memorial service for Steve Irwin, the Australian crocodile cuddler who was perforated by a deadly sea monster. Much as I lamented the news of his demise, I nevertheless argued against it. Mr Irwin, peace be upon him, was obsessed with a single animal species. There’s nothing wrong with that, if the decencies are observed, but it does tend to divert attention from the big picture. Furthermore, I can’t think of a creature less appreciative of being hugged by a human than a crocodile. As far as I could tell, most of them couldn’t wait to wriggle out of his grasp and take refuge at the bottom of the garden pool.
The funny thing is that if Irwin had come to the
Now Ray Mears, the bush survival expert, is a man whose death I certainly would mourn, not least because he’s a personal friend who has twice stayed with my band. The first visit had to be cut short after Raymond insisted on living exactly as we did, eating his termites raw and licking the moisture off frogs. He was struck down with dysentery and had to be carried back to the safari camp with his shorts pulled down to his ankles, so his effusions could dribble onto the ground.
On the second visit, he wisely agreed to abandon his “do as the Romans do” policy and came equipped with water purification tablets, canvas tent, gas stove and other human essentials. Things went a lot better as a result, and by the end of his stay the youngsters were calling him ‘Uncle Lumpy’. The females had other affectionate nicknames for him which I wouldn’t care to repeat.
On his last night in the jungle he cooked a magnificent feast for us: snake meat and fish were barbecued on wooden skewers; yams, peppers and a dead lizard were roasted in a sizzling underground oven. You humans can keep your Fanny Cradocks, Kenny Homs and Jimmy Olivers – I’ll take the simple jungle fare of Mearsy every time. You don’t need fancy marinades and vinegrettes to delight the palate of a gorilla.
We opened a keg of our best fermented coconut juice to wash down the food and prolong the festivities into the night. Humans usually hold their liquor better than gorillas, so it surprised me when Raymond was the first to plead grogginess and retire to his tent. He didn’t emerge next morning until the sun was high in the sky, looking decidedly red-eyed and dishevelled.
“I had this terrible dream GB,” he said. “Some big hairy beast was holding me down and squeezing me all over my body.”
“It must have been the coconut brew, Raymond,” I said. “It can have that effect if you’re not used to it.”
“That’s what I thought,” replied Mearsy. “But my muscles ache all over and I can definitely feel a bruise on my left buttock. Would you mind looking at it?”
Examining a man’s hindquarters is not one of my preferred pastimes, but a sturdy fellow like Ray Mears wouldn’t have made a fuss about some trivial abrasion. So we found a discreet spot in the undergrowth where Mearsy pulled down his khaki shorts and I crouched down to inspect his rear. I was horrified by what I saw. Amid a welter of red marks was an enormous hickey on which primate teeth marks were clearly visible. It was obvious what had happened. One of the females had spiked his drink and infiltrated his tent for a night of chubby-chewing.
Although honesty is normally my preferred policy, there are always exceptions to every rule. One of them is when a female from my band sexually assaults a famous
“It looks like you’ve been bitten by a creeping arse-bug, Raymond,” I said. “I’ll get some ointment to ease the discomfort.”
“Creeping arse-bug?” inquired Mearsy with a puzzled look on his face. “I’ve not heard of that one before. What is it GB?”
“It’s a mutant tarantula with rodent-like teeth,” I explained. “A rare nocturnal beast with a taste for hippos and humans. I believe the late President Amin had his troubles with them.”
I dressed Raymond’s wound as best I could, giving him strict instructions not to remove the plaster for a week. His porters arrived later that morning, and I bade him a cordial farewell, looking daggers at any female who approached him for a parting embrace.
After Mearsy had left, I summoned the females for a staff meeting and read them the riot act. I didn’t try to identify the culprit – it was probably a team effort anyway. I simply said that anyone who pulled a stunt like that again would be sent to live with the chimpanzees for a month, which would be social death for a gorilla. I’m not going to pay a fortune in damages because some hairy bitch can’t keep her teeth to herself.
Labels: Creeping arse-bug, Ray Mears, Steve Irwin
How come , if Mr Mears is always out 'surviving' and stuff , that he is so chubby ??
Does he have a porter carrying a sack of pies wherever he goes ???
Interesting that your gorilla females find him attractive though. . . .
"I can’t think of a creature less appreciative of being hugged by a human than a crocodile."
How about a sting ray?
You seem to have a rather spirited and determined shrewdness of apes there.
Do you have a camera up in my bedroom?
Makes you wonder about the link between greek weeman and primates, well ok maybe it doesn't.
I'm calling the EMBLOS and canceling the safari plans.
Spymum: I'm so sorry I spoiled your breakfast, Poshmum. It must be a busy time for you. Would you say that Mearsy was good husband material? I'm sure the single girls here would value your opinion.
Zuba: Did he actually try to hug that stingray? I'd call that suicide. Female gorillas know what they want and generally get it.
Knudsen: Well it's no so bad if the teeth are in a cup on the bedside table. Have you ever been bitten by a girl, Knudie?
Chickybabe: Hello and welcome, Miss Babe. Unfortunately, someone has to crack the whip to maintain order.
Minx: Ah, Minxie, I wondered who'd be the first to mention him. Been watching all his shows then? He likes his food raw, like a gorilla, but do you think he's been tempted to pilfer a Mars Bar from the camera crewe?
Randall: If you limit yourself to young females, they'll tone up your muscles quite nicely.
Mutley: I'm glad I behaved in accordance with your high ethical standards. I can see that underneath it all you're a watchdog rather than a hound. I'd nominate you for a position cracking down on immorality and vice in public life.
Ivonne: Thank you, Sweetheart. Be selective in what you learn from them!
Betchya glad he didn't let a ripe one rip, eh??
Enidd Mears: Is Ray on TV in your part of the world?
Sam: Is Ray Welsh? Good for him. His bum was much too fleshy to get a tooth in it. That was Enidd pretending to be Ray.
Captain Smack: They won't be interested when your flesh is tough and stringy. If you're going to experiment, do it when you're young.
Freelance: I'd take the presidency of the masseuses' union if it's up for grabs.
Jungle Jane: Mearsy is a gentleman of the old school who would burst his gut rather than fart in a friend's face. Have you ever been wined and dined by a gentleman, JJ?
I am not sure why you took umbrage at the females and their philandering. Its natural for the female species to want to make their mark...
Loved the comment on the crocodiles, too. I went to Australia Zoo to see Steve Irwin - it was a little bit scary.
As for Mears - indeed, one can never have enough pie....
I admire her man-getting technique, wily but effective. I'm taking notes.
Rosanna: Thanks Rosanna. I never saw him live. I've been to the zoo in Sydney, which was great.
Goth: I knew you wouldn't be able to resist jumping on the 'Fatty Mears' bandwagon. You could learn a lot from Ray.
Trish: I guess that's true if you like your men passive and enjoy a good bite. I think you might get bored after a while.
Enidd: He did a show in your part of the world where he met some former WW2 partisans. They taught him about surviving in the forest by making unusual soups.
You really know how to tickle the spirit with those scaru hairy thoughts.
What will I find if I come to the Congo, my gorgeous Gorilla? I just might, you know.
Or is that a dangerous question to ask?
GB, your posts make my day.
I'll still be commenting & posting as usual, only that the timing is erratic.
As for our Australian "celebrities" I'd just like to point out that we are not limited to people who wrestle crocodiles or fold their willies to look like piano accordions. We also have dudes who have served with the Taliban, fat cricketing legends known for their moustache and incredible drinking record (52 beers from Sydney to London!), fat cricketing legends known for their countless infidelities and Rolf Harris.
Let's face it, wouldn't you want to stab him in the heart of he tried to make a move on you?
And, incidentally, the reference to pie and Mears was not entirely about that sort of pie..... more like 'I would like to eat Kylies pie'
Who's that in the tree?
I especially enjoyed watching him get clawed by an enraged Komodo Dragon.
But yes, Mears is a much more interesting fellow.
It would be him I would summon should I need someone's advice on storing sliced bread overnight in the siberian wastelands.
It's a shame you had to lie to him.
But I guess Gorilla rough and tumble is a little more physical than the human equivalent.
I loved Steve Irwin. I think he loved all wild life ... I wonder if he was vegetarian.
Zuba: I'd settle for hoisting him upside down by his ankles, but I guess a stingray's options are more limited.
Kav: No it wouldn't. Human females are a bit too delicate for a gorilla, but the ones who don't shave their legs might get a second glance.
Trish: Spoken like a real woman.
Goth: Does Kylie have a tasty one then? Men who think pretty girls are tastier are probably deluding themselves.
Kara: Ray Mears is in the tree. He's probably not well known in your part of the world. He's a survivalist who might actually survive.
Mosha: Mearsy is an educator rather than a stunt man. Irwin would have shown his arse to the camera if he'd got a bite on it.
Jenny: Hi Jenny, I'm fine. Hope everything's well at work and at home. I'd be surprised if Irwin was a vegetarian. He did love wildlife, but was perhaps a little too physical in the way he expressed it.
Beneath the Southern Cross I stand,
A sprig of wattle in my hand,
A native of my native land,
Australia you fucking beauty!
as for the chant, I thought it was going to be Sign of the Southern Cross - began to wonder if Sabbath were on tour
I've moved locations but am still planning. not yet travelling properly.
But coconuts in the Congo? :-)
Goth: I won't say a bad word about Kylie, but if she tasted that good we'd have heard about it by now.
Melissavina: And they're cheeky too.
Mutley: You resent him because he's a real man of Nature, unlike the little Englanders with their manicured hedgerows and fields.
Suzy: Coconuts, coffee, whatever takes your fancy.
Lady Daphne: You're the kind of woman that Ray likes, Milady. Classy and brassy.
Beast: If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting I may have to challenge you to a duel.
As a gorilla, do you think you will ever evolve into a more intelligent species and say, invent the wheel for a second time, or perhaps even discover penicillin?
Me in green overalls. Broom held a loft. Another keeper hose sprays the poop to soften and loosen it. I scrape it with my broom. Poop slides down broom handle, onto my hand, down my arm (held upwards) into my overalls.
After work I go home on the bus stinking of poo as there are no showers at the zoo.
Anymore poo stories required let me know. I'm the poo expert.
I am the proud owner of a varnished and mounted turd, deposited by the late Queen Victoria whilst travelling on the Royal Train from London to Blackpool. It has shrunk somewhat in size but still displays some wonderful markings. The specimen is complimented by a solid mahogany base with a brass plate describing its authenticity. I treasure it and would never sell it.
hindquarters leaves me blissful!
Admiration!! Mister, Gorilla
This is the wattle,
Symbol of our land.
You can stick it in a bottle,
or you can hold it in your hand.
Austraylia Australiya Australia
We love you
Ms Fossil: In the jungle, we gorillas get our monkey poo fresh from the trees. Look up Simoney in my blogroll for another female interested in poo.
Dip-Doc: The French must surely admire the hindquarters. Is not "Quelle Couture!" a favourite expression?
Man at the pub: Welcome. Thanks for the advice and the poetry. Do you prefer Fosters or Castlemaine XXXX?
Thought we were meeting at the London Zoo a little later on.
Bet you're still handsome without the garlands. *grinning while trying my luck*
With all this talk of shit (above), anyone heard of the term 'coprolalia' - I think it's amazing, and should be used more often.
I wonder if Sir Beast's ancestors come from your neck of the woods?
Pi: He was good man, but his love of manhandling cold-blooded creatures led to his downfall.
Ms Tickles: Good word. I think it's a more common ailment than coprophilia.
Newforestandy: I'd like to find out what they put in Old Lesbian No6 first. Secretions from an old lesbian may not taste that good.
I've posted a news-story about that at:
I have to say, your description of the violation of Mears is riotous in the extreme. I see a children's book in this.