(Episode 1; Season 2)
Throughout my entire adult life, I had always hoped that humankind would one day see the big picture. That one day soon everyone would be a vegan like me and all the sweet little furry creatures of Planet Earth would be free to roam the continents without fear of being scoffed. A vegan life isn’t an easy thing. With a degree of certainty, I acknowledge that my veganism has cost me dear. Some 37 of my 45 lovers (well I think it’s 45, but that’s not counting the one-night stands when the worse for organically produced sparkling free-range Conference Pear wine and my annual Glastonbury Music Festival escapades) left me because of the flatulence that goes hand in hand with my ethical vegan diet…well that, and my reluctance to shave my naturally hirsute armpits and all places south thereof, so some have commented.
Indeed, my last lover, ‘He’ who I truly believed would be ‘The One’, Cedric Moonbeam Rossthythe-Pendragon I think he may have been called, had pointedly told me that sharing my bed was akin to sleeping in a methane gas pipeline and that he could take it no longer.
“But Cedric Moonbeam Rossthythe-Pendragon…or whatever your name is…do remember that methane is a ‘natural’ gas, and ‘natural’ means ‘good’ in my world view. Besides, I could never give up eating raw Jerusalem artichokes or whole grain spelt for any man…you must see that.”
I never saw Cedric ever again. Obviously, I felt suicidal. Often my suicidal tendencies flare up when life disappoints. It is at these times I seek solace doing a bit of tree-hugging. The trees know everything you see. The trees are my only true friends. Communing with them naked is the best way to absorb their magical energy. I well remember that my favourite oak, the one I call Brian, once whispered that to me, while that nasty Dirty Derek was smoking a fag stood the other side of Brian’s trunk. It couldn’t possibly have been Derek being naughty again who said it though, as he was not prone to an idle whisper…no, it definitely was Brian who uttered those stirring words.
Whatever, it was when hugging dear Brian my new poem came to me.
SONG TO CEDRIC (or whatever his name was)
Destiny had it that the one day
Passing wind would be socially accepted
By one and all, and all and one
And that I’d never again be neglected
By all the men I’ve ever met
Be they black or white or sunburnt red
That all would be content to share
Their love for me in my bed
Yet woe is me that will never happen
Just one ‘silent but deadly’ fart is often enough
To see my lovers, rush for the door
Whether I’m clad in ethically produced cotton tie-dyed garments, or am simply in the buff
I’m feeling suicidal again now. Thus far I’ve tried to top myself 26 times in total. All attempts have ended in abject failure.
I recall that one time I attended a BBQ where the boys were cooking up Linda McCartney organically produced non-GMO soya sausages. It was the fizziness of the organically sourced raspberry cider that caused it I think. Whatever, I could not help but let a massive one rip. Luckily for me I was a good distance away from the boys holding their own spatula’s. Sadly, they were not so lucky. Many suffered 80% burns when the smouldering charcoal ignited and, in an instant, engulfed them in the fires of Hell itself. That was the night Dirty Derek was incinerated in the manner of one who had spontaneously combusted.
Anyhow, tonight I intend to set up my own private BBQ and stand close by. That should do the trick as I’m never short of a swift trump! In the manner of Joan of Arc, I shall say, “Goodbye cruel world.”