Even now not everyone understands that decades of pollution have turned our formerly pleasant countryside into one enormous charnel house.
No longer sweetly cooing as was once their wont, today’s turtle doves croak hoarsely amid thickets of lethal hogweed. Field mice lurch glassy-eyed from their poisoned burrows, expiring in a puddle of radioactive sputum. Shire horses quail beneath the freakish yellow eight-inch fangs of crazed mutant voles.
What’s that astir in the hedgerow? A blood-drenched mink, swollen to the size of a family car by drinking industrial effluent. Shall we recline on this grassy bank? No, for we should be throttled by ivy, which now possesses not only a brain and insatiable bloodlust but also the ability to grow at three yards per second.
Ah, the timeless spectacle of cricket on the village green – it’s as big as the church, it can jump half a mile, and it chirps monstrously while it devours the hapless silly-mid-off.
No wonder foxes flee to the suburbs, invading every home in their path, forcing hapless stockbrokers to relocate to sink estates made entirely of burned-out cars, where they’re mugged for their Royal Opera House season tickets by scar-faced, crack-maddened teenage mothers of thirty-eight.
Truly, the England of King Alfred, Shakespeare, Sir Francis Drake, Napoleon, Montezuma, Golda Meir, the Crazy Gang and Melanie Stace is no more!
― Rex (Rex), Tuesday, 16 September 2003 11:50 (twenty-two years ago)
I knew it. I knew it would come to this! I'm going to sharpen my stick and...What?...They're *THAT* big?
Oh, shit.
― Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Tuesday, 16 September 2003 22:47 (twenty-two years ago)
Sharpen as many sticks as you wish, it will avail you naught come judgement day when the butterflies declare that YOU will be first against the wall.
Not content with adapting to the rigours of our modern age by becoming extremely big and evolving the ability to dial out for pizza mutant Camberwell Beauties have been spotted dog-fighting with RAF jets on low-flying training exercises. As of yesterday Wing-Commander Basildon Binary-Code issued an edict grounding all planes until further notice.
On the up side baby seals have evolved really huge eyes and big long lashes which makes my morning Mail a far more pleasurable read. Aaah, though it's heartbreaking to see them get the shit kicked out of them by rampaging cockchafers the size of Cheiftain tanks, one of which I note has just eaten Room 47, Ormskirk's newest and hippest nitespot, so it's not all doom and gloom.
― Matt (Matt), Thursday, 18 September 2003 08:52 (twenty-two years ago)
*Breaking News*
Numerous sources have reported a huge pile of what appears to be some sort of "feces" in the middle of Erewhon. Residents are advised to lock their doors and boil their water. The reports of missing livestock and family members are unsubstantiated. Do NOT panic...oh jesus fuck christ goddamn mommy? ilove you jlo mandibles exoskeletons smell take me baby yess yess.
― Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Thursday, 18 September 2003 23:06 (twenty-two years ago)
Recently, I saw an outdoor production of
A Midsummer Night's Dream. When the gentleman playing Puck spoke his lines:
You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, not be seen;
Newts and blindworms, do no wrong...
...a newt of terrifying proportions attacked the stage and ingested him before he could fully finish his lines.
I needn't tell you, chaos ensued, as the next player, not hearing his usual cue completely lost his place in the play and the prompter had to come on stage and read his lines for him. The newt, evidently satisfied with his meal, curled up and gave no more trouble for the duration.
― Aimless, Friday, 19 September 2003 00:55 (twenty-two years ago)