My Version of an Eddie Izzard Bit
So, yeah. I stepped out onto my terrace – which comes from the Latin ‘terra’ – not terror which is a completely different thing entirely (makes terrified face) – which means earth or land – the terra bit, not the terror bit which also comes from the Latin for frighten – so there’s something there. (raises knowing eyebrow) Yet this terrace is not on land but is, however, on the Earth as a planet, but not on the earth as in on the ground. It’s one storey up suspended in air as it were, so it shouldn’t really be called a terrace, but that’s neither here nor there. Well, it’s obviously got to be either here or there or it doesn’t exist. Hmmm….so, yeah. As I was saying, I stepped out onto my terrace and nearly squished a slug – which comes from the Middle English for sluggish and I think you’d have to agree with me that those Middle English blokes hit this one right on the nose because these creatures are some of the slowest moving things going. They may be the sloths of the gastropod world.
I did that semi-leap in the air one does when one realizes they are about to squish a living thing and danced about until I landed in a slug-free zone. Then I noticed this was not a lone slug. No. He – or she – seemed to have some pals in the vicinity yet not in a chummy sort of, ‘Hey, let’s mess about on this terrace,” kind of way. They all seemed to be overly involved in some mysterious business of their own.
The thing about slugs is, these ones anyway, is that they made me think of their posh French cousins the snail or escargot. Posh, of course, because they can afford a shell or pied-a-terre - again from the French meaning foot on the ground – which is silly really, because we all know a pied-a-terre is a small flat or apartment used generally for romantic liaisons. Granted, perhaps one, two, or even three of the persons involved in said romantic liaison may have a foot on the ground – however, slugs are totally bereft of feet as we know them but have this “ventral muscular foot” for locomotion that propels them along – and the word propel is giving the wrong impression entirely. Propel is pretty much the antithesis of what slugs do when locomoting from one place to another.
So, yeah. There were five of the little buggers just sort of meandering round the terrace with no discernable aim or goal – that I could detect – you know, their seemingly meaningless wanderings could quite possibly be what keeps the Earth turning on its axis and far be it for me to be the one who buggers the thing up by getting quiffy with some snails’ poor relations, eh? I doubt it but you know they’re here for a purpose and I don’t wish to denigrate what that is. It could just be to weasel about the garden and leave silvery yuck trails – much like an uncle I have on my dad’s side.
I was tempted to lift them up and, with a Day-Glo marker, write 1 through 5 on their backs and set them down at a starting line and observe their actions. But I’ve got a fuckin’ life, ya know and have better things to do than muck about with slugs, so, yeah, I buggered off.
So, yeah. I stepped out onto my terrace – which comes from the Latin ‘terra’ – not terror which is a completely different thing entirely (makes terrified face) – which means earth or land – the terra bit, not the terror bit which also comes from the Latin for frighten – so there’s something there. (raises knowing eyebrow) Yet this terrace is not on land but is, however, on the Earth as a planet, but not on the earth as in on the ground. It’s one storey up suspended in air as it were, so it shouldn’t really be called a terrace, but that’s neither here nor there. Well, it’s obviously got to be either here or there or it doesn’t exist. Hmmm….so, yeah. As I was saying, I stepped out onto my terrace and nearly squished a slug – which comes from the Middle English for sluggish and I think you’d have to agree with me that those Middle English blokes hit this one right on the nose because these creatures are some of the slowest moving things going. They may be the sloths of the gastropod world.
I did that semi-leap in the air one does when one realizes they are about to squish a living thing and danced about until I landed in a slug-free zone. Then I noticed this was not a lone slug. No. He – or she – seemed to have some pals in the vicinity yet not in a chummy sort of, ‘Hey, let’s mess about on this terrace,” kind of way. They all seemed to be overly involved in some mysterious business of their own.
The thing about slugs is, these ones anyway, is that they made me think of their posh French cousins the snail or escargot. Posh, of course, because they can afford a shell or pied-a-terre - again from the French meaning foot on the ground – which is silly really, because we all know a pied-a-terre is a small flat or apartment used generally for romantic liaisons. Granted, perhaps one, two, or even three of the persons involved in said romantic liaison may have a foot on the ground – however, slugs are totally bereft of feet as we know them but have this “ventral muscular foot” for locomotion that propels them along – and the word propel is giving the wrong impression entirely. Propel is pretty much the antithesis of what slugs do when locomoting from one place to another.
So, yeah. There were five of the little buggers just sort of meandering round the terrace with no discernable aim or goal – that I could detect – you know, their seemingly meaningless wanderings could quite possibly be what keeps the Earth turning on its axis and far be it for me to be the one who buggers the thing up by getting quiffy with some snails’ poor relations, eh? I doubt it but you know they’re here for a purpose and I don’t wish to denigrate what that is. It could just be to weasel about the garden and leave silvery yuck trails – much like an uncle I have on my dad’s side.
I was tempted to lift them up and, with a Day-Glo marker, write 1 through 5 on their backs and set them down at a starting line and observe their actions. But I’ve got a fuckin’ life, ya know and have better things to do than muck about with slugs, so, yeah, I buggered off.
