Tuesday, November 05, 2013

Mad Dogs and Englishmen


Is it the Onion I'm reading here? Is someone really trying to take the proverbial?*

Even if  you knew me, as the cynical old git that I am, you wouldn't blame me; not with a story like this you wouldn't. But then I got to thinking, thinking about things past, thinking about past experiences that we encounter, along this road we call life. That road, as it happens, being a cul-de-sac on this occasion.  

Let me tell you a little story. Are you sitting comfortably, then I'll begin?**

Whenever I go foreign, and providing I have the time, I do like to get off the beaten track and explore a wee bit. Be that, searching out goat stew in the hinterland of Teneriffe, stumbling around the woods in the wilds of Canada, or just diverting through previous unseen parts of the Netherlands.

But it is none of those places that feature in my little story today, but rather that most beautiful of Mediterranean Islands, Mallorca. Shame about the tourists.

On no day in particular, and after a perusal of the map, Cap Blanc, says I, I wonder what's at Cap Blanc?   So true to form, it's in the car I sit, and off we go.

Now as you can see from the photo immediately below, Cap Blanc is a pretty isolated spot. And given the time of year, of which I haven't a clue, but it wouldn't be high season, one does not holiday in high season if one has any sense. But given the time of year, it was quiet, deathly quiet, so quite in fact, the place almost had an ethereal feel to it,  if you will.

Now Cap Blanc might not be the Cliffs of Moher, but still pretty impressive nonetheless. And where you find cliffs, invariably you find a bloke, me on this occasion, having a gander over the edge; as one does. So there I am, soaked in the quiet and the isolation of the place, doing a bit of gandering, oh, and philosophising, you can't can't stand on top of a cliff and not philosophise, can you?

And it is in this atmosphere that I hear a door open and close. I don't have to turn around, the sound could only have come from the keeper's cottage, the place wasn't exactly a metropolis as you night have noticed.

Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh my giddy aunt! as my mother might exclaim on occasion. There it it stood, with hate in its eyes; I'm convinced it was hate. I'm on its turf, a three hundred foot drop on one side of me, and the biggest fuck off dog I have ever seen in my life, stood between me survival, between me and my car.

Oh! and it had hate in its eyes, did I mention that? Pure fucking evil in fact, for want of a better expression.

I tell you, the son of a bitch was enormous, so big in fact, it made this bugger below, look like a puppy. Although I must say, they shared many of the facial characteristics, those normally associated with something that is going to take great delight in ripping your throat out.

Nice doggy, nice doggy.

Giant Fukushima Mutant Dog Wows Social Media

Picture of a giant Fukushima mutant dog has wowed social media. According to various sources, the dog was bred in Japan using in-vitro techniques. The gametic maternal cells were infused with Fukushima irradiated male DNA, then the eggs were grown in vitro. The result of the experimentation resulted in the giant dog above, which Japanese scientists are calling 巨大な犬, which translates to Kyodaina inu or Inukyodaina, ‘giant dog’ in English. No kidding. More

And I still need to be convinced the story ain't via the Onion.
As best I remember the situation, but I don't remember the wall.
Irrespective, wall or no, the beast would have stepped over it.

For readers not familiar.

* With it being the opening of the article,I chose to choose the proverbial, rather than the usual technical term of: Taking the piss

** Are you sitting comfortably, then I'll begin. Listen with Mother

Lighthouses of Spain: Balearic Islands

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