Friday 12 November 2010

A man wearing Crocs created irreversible evil

Once upon a time, a heavily expectant mother was crammed into a rickety old bus in the Australian outback.

Unfortunately for the lowly damsel, there is no such thing as a “baby on board badge” in the outback so no one felt bullied into sacrificing their seat and the bumpy bus bumped and jostled so much so that it induced an untimely labour.

And with a splosh splish splash, her waters broke, soaking the feet and slapping up the legs of other passengers. Including one young man called Bruce who was wearing his spanking new shiny pink Crocs for the first time.

Bruce was so disgruntled at the soiling of what he considered to be an impeccable choice of footwear that he lifted the fat mum-to-be with one arm and ejected her from the moving bus with the force and prowess of a professional shot-putter.

Plummeting through the air, the poor mother landed some 263 yards away, dying on impact. Two hours later a pack of vultures, out for an evening stroll, came upon her corpse. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, and being quite peckish, the birds decided the free feast was too good to pass up, and so in they tucked.

But they were halted in their tracks when, upon eating through the stomach lining, they were confronted by a tiny baby boy.

Now for all their bad press, what with mutilating rodents and rummaging through rubbish, it may surprise you to discover that vultures do in fact have a bit of a soft spot for small children. And this babe had them up in arms, cooing and pulling silly faces to calm his sobs.

There is an unwritten law that, if you find a Boy of no ownership (or BONO for short) in the desert, and no-one claims him after 28 days, he is yours to keep.

And so after a month had passed, the young BONO was raised and nurtured by the birds of prey, who treated him much like a domesticated pet.

As he grew, the boy seemed to develop a number of vulture like characteristics. The hooked nose, evil eyes, balding forehead and wan demeanour. This excited his adopted family greatly as they truly believed BONO may be morphing into a vulture before their beady little eyes.

Unfortunately as time went on, despite these traits, try as they may, they could not teach their unfortunate tot to fly.

And it was when BONO reached not much more than 19 years old that they grew tired of him and one night, while he slept on his perch, the vultures swept him up, flew out to sea and traded him to a bearded fisherman for a bucket of whelks.

Next morning the splash of seawater awoke BONO with a start. He was disturbed and disorientated by the sound of birds cawing. It wasn’t the familiar sound of Mummy vulture singing as she fried worms and ostrich eggs for breakfast. It was more high-pitched.

“All right you young rapscallion” boomed the fisherman, lunging toward BONO with his bristly white beard, “no time for rest now, we got fish to catch.”

And so for the next six months BONO sailed the seas, collecting scallops, tuna and the occasional clown fish until at last – they reached land and dropped anchor on the shores of Ireland. You may be thinking, reader, that Ireland is a mighty long way from Australia and you’re right. But the seas were choppy and the fisherman’s compass was claimed by a giant wave. So they sailed aimlessly, surviving off raw fish and their own urine, until they stumbled upon land ahoy.

BONO was off faster than a punter up a hooker, leaving the fisherman to tend to his weather-beaten vessel. Exercising the skills he had learnt from the vultures, he survived for weeks, foraging in bins and rubbish dumps for sustenance until he came across a guitar which, all be it a bit rusty and out of tune, gave BONO a light-bulb pingingly brilliant idea.

Having seen people busking in the street he realised that by showcasing his newly discovered relic in Dublin city centre, he could make himself a pound or two.

So he sat outside Pound Stretcher strumming the songs he had learned from Mummy Vulture, about beautiful days and other such nonsense, while the crowds gathered round.

People were so in awe of BONO’s weird and wonderful life that he gained global notoriety. Panel show producers were desperate for him to make a guest appearance and grandmothers everywhere posted him hand-knitted cardigans and tea-cosies.

All too soon the fame shot to BONO’s head and he began preaching about the hardships of the world, even managing to squeeze in interviews amid a hectic life of private jets and overindulging to the point of sickness on caviar, Ferrero Rocher and other such divine delicacies.

And for that, dear reader, we have Bruce to blame.