This afternoon we were down at the Old Entomologist, all wearing masks to conceal our true identities and to minimise the undue influence from the various disease lobbies, and argy-bargying whether or not to include phthiriasis as a separate entry. Things got so heated that I had to call out to the barman for "A brace of cocktails!" to chill everyone out.
True, 1870 was the last time a case was reported of someone's flesh being devoured from within by a morbid, spontaneously-generated proliferation of lice and mites. But perhaps this means it is due for a revival, and before we know it, all the cool people will have 8-legged anthropods wriggling out of every body pore, as a sign that they are sufficiently important to deserve a divine retribution. That will liven up the lifestyle magazines.
Then Editor 'X' was all "Phthiriasis is really just a form of Morgellons" -- where 'Morgellons' are mysterious threads or strands exuding from skin lesions, as if the patient is developing spinnerets. The Morgellons lobby is particularly powerful and I suspect that they got to Editor 'X' somehow.
Then the barman turned up with a couple of martini glasses wrapped in sandpaper which no-one could remember ordering, and in the ensuing argument we forgot what we'd been talking about.
This guy has an infestation of leeches generating within his flesh and crawling out through his skin, but you don't see him complaining, do you? To make the most of it, he has trained them to perform simple tricks, and on Friday evenings you can see him busking on Courtenay Place.UPDATE: Animated moustaches! Go wild!
9 comments:
I'm so happy I read this before breakfast.
Phthiriasis was firmly believed to be a divine punishment for tyrants, desecrators, and enemies of religion.
Dick Cheney ought to be coming down with a severe case any day now.
~
Leeches nothing, someone has dragged and dropped dancing moustachios on that poor man.
*Ahem* I want to thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen. I have a brief statement and then I'll take questions.
Excuse me, sire?
Dana, please wait until I call on you.
But you've got...
I won't tell you again, Brian. Now then. I have called this press conference to bring to the attention of the citizens of our great land just how fabulous my hat and coat are.
Sire, I REALLY think...
Major, if you interrupt again, I'll ask Ye Olde Secrete Service to remove you. I assure you, my statement is a brief one. One of the more interesting things about my coat is that, in spite of the fact that the damn thing's freakin HUGE, I mean, we're talking forty pounds fer crissakes, it is surprisingly comfortable, which I sure you are all happy to hear. And my hat? It's hard to go wrong with black velvet and gold, even after easter. Of course, if you're going to paint a picture of dogs playing poker, or some moorish bullfighter, black velvet is indispensible, but as a hat it's hard to beat. Oh. The tee shirt is from UnderArmor. Now, questions. Yes, Sheppard.
Sire, you've got leaches crawling all over you.
That's ridiculous. Do you have a question?
Um, ok. WHY do you have leeches crawling all over you?
I do not. You're apparently going to have to cut back on the lunchtime martinis, is all I can say. Brian?
Sire, there ARE leeches...
Of COURSE there are leeches. There are also spiders and wetas. The topic here today is my fabulous hat. Do you have a question about my hat, Dana?
Yes sire. Are there leeches under your hat too?
That's it. This press conference is at an end. Guards, put the leeches on the entire press corps...
Morgellons at play
Turns out that dancing moustachios also make good expressive eyebrows.
What the hell? Blogger hosting these now?
Only up to a certain size.
...as DKW's mother was telling me the other day.
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