The Dead, The Octopus & The Bent Chicken.
As you know we have some pretty random nights (& days) here at The Leopard. (For evidence of this either pop in and experience it LIVE, or, if we are closed as you are reading this, please refer to previous blogs; If you haven't yet read any, you should - you might even be mentioned in one of them!) Last night myself, The Boy, Rainbow Warrior, Welsh Elvis, The Astrology Pimp, Bleep and others had, as you have probably guessed from the title, a strange, but entertaining, discussion that wove its way, like a brook that becomes a river and ultimately flows into the sea.
'The dead' arose (not literally, thank God - that would make for an undoubtedly scary blog of changing pants proportions) as I had seen a post on Facebook where a young man had died at the age of twenty-three and his body had been dressed in his favourite sporty outfit. Nothing untoward about that eh? No! What if I told you that with a cigarette in his hand, bespectacled, eyes open and with one leg crossed over the other, the body of this poor young man had then been posed on a chair through-out his own funeral!!! I found this rather macabre to say the least and wondered what the assembled group thought of it. Some had seen the post themselves (I also found it odd that the body had been filmed during the funeral, even more unbelievable was the fact that someone had decided this was suitable for publication on Social Media) and, like me, they agreed that it was an odd thing to do.
From this we moved onto a general discussion about death. Now when I say 'we', I refer to myself and Welsh Elvis, as the younger members of our group departed for the outside and nicotine. It is understandable for those who have not yet reached thirty to have little time for discussions of death, the dead, funerals and so on, as they have (if the rhythm of life proceeds as it should) years of living to do. When you get to my age and there are more years behind you than there are in front of you, death is just around the corner and the subject matter is not so much acceptable as inevitable. I said as much to Welsh Elvis, who agreed with me, adding that at 'our time of life' we tend to go to way too many funerals, whereas previously we received invites to happier occasions such as weddings and christenings.
Welsh Elvis was then treated to my explanation of why a 'Wake' is so-called. (Now, those of you who don't know, please bare with me and I will explain. For those who know already please skip this bracketed part of the paragraph. Oh, hello! Still here then? Ok, either you are reading this to see if my explanation has validity, or you don't know. Well... It was not unknown, in days of yore, for doctors to mis-diagnose death. So it became normal for the body to placed in an open casket, on a table in the deceased's parlour and for family and friends to gather round and wait to see if their dearly departed would 'wake'. Obviously, those gathered needed something to pass the time whilst they waited, and so drink, food and tales of the departed would be utilised to fill the void. For this reason, the gathering around the dead, or the post funeral get together with food, drink and eulogies became known as a 'Wake'.)
I was on a bit of a dead-theme-roll now and went on to explain to an apparently interested Welsh Elvis where the term Dead Ringer came from too. (Whilst Meat Loaf fans may be forgiven for believing he invented the phrase, again if you know this not to be the case, please skip this bracketed part of the paragraph too. 'Dead Ringer' also has it's basis in the aforementioned mis-diagnosis of death, in the already alluded to 'days of yore'. Not content with the whole 'wake' thing - which could go on for days - prior to the coffin lid being nailed on, a piece of string was tied around the deceased's foot or hand with a length being left outside of the casket as it was nailed shut. At the funeral, this string was left 'above ground' as the grave was in-filled and a small bell would be placed on the end. If the deceased was unlucky enough to 'wake' and find themselves buried alive, the theory was that they could move their hand or foot to ring the bell that was attached by the string to their person. The Graveyard attendants hear the bell, announce they had a 'Dead Ringer' and exhume or rescue them.) Fascinating stuff eh? Yes, it's a little morbid, but I prefer to think of these two snippets of information as a 'just in case' back-up plan. If you insist upon an actual 'days of yore' wake and the bell/string combo when your time comes and you do wake, you'll thank me for having given you this information.
Welsh Elvis and I were then joined once more by the previously departed (that is, those who went for a cigarette, not dead people) and the conversation turned to the Victorian's penchant for taking photograph's of their dearly departed, often with other (and very much alive) members of their families. Rainbow Warrior found it odd that they waited till they were dead to take pictures, Welsh Elvis added that at least the dead would be good subjects as 'stillness' was paramount at that time in order to get a good photograph and I added (please skip this bit if, like me, you are familiar with this practice too) that unlike today when photographs are taken all the time and cost nothing, back then they cost a fortune. Added to this was the sad fact that infant mortality rates were very high up to and including the Victorian period, and parents often had photographs of their dead children as keepsakes. If they could afford this luxury, parents would often request that the surviving siblings and, indeed, the parents themselves were in these photographs. Not only that but photographers were also often instructed to 'paint' the eyes of the deceased onto the photograph during the development process, so the departed still seemed to be alive.
Given this historical desire to preserve a memory of a loved one as though they were alive, I suppose the family of the man who was posed sitting at his own funeral is a little more understandable, but let it be known, I would prefer NOT to be arranged like a morbid wax work at my funeral, thank you very much. Having worked hard all my life, I will have earned my rest when the time comes and I would prefer for my eternal sleep to be taken lying down. (There's a first time for everything - that'll be the first - and probably only time I'll take anything lying down!).
So, that explains 'The Dead', shall we move now onto octopus? Those of a nervous disposition need to leave the blog now... seriously, this is where things got a little strange. That is to say, things became more weird than they were already.
Given the previous discussion about Facebook (remember - that's where we started) I think (as usual I can't swear to this, not because of alcohol intake, my only beverage being tea, but because themes shift and topics of conversation move from one thing to another very quickly at The Leopard, often without any real link, but as I said the Facebook/Posed Deceased story - I am almost certain) led to Wikipedia, Wiki Links and how, according to Rainbow Warrior, similar links on something called 'Porn Hub' had led to her seeing Octopus Porn. I fail to see what kicks folks got from watching two octopi copulating, surely such footage would be better suited to the Discovery Channel and David Attenborough. Obviously, Rainbow Warrior's story was NOT alluding to pair of octopi, but I really do not need that image in my head, so I will leave you to draw your own conclusions, form your own nightmares, or if you are THAT way inclined search Porn Hub for some 007 gratification.
Obviously there was now, albeit by very strange introduction, an animal theme now, quite how we got from Octopus to Sheep is a journey I can't recall (and I am not going to attempt it either) but with a Welsh man in the pub and the mention of copulation it was kind of inevitable that sheep would be mentioned at some point. There was some discussion about eating octopus, squid too, and I think that may have resulted in The Sheep Brains story being brought into play by The Boy, who once had, I shit you not, a dish from our local take-away that consisted of Sheep Brains. Apparently it is something of a delicacy. Despite the fact that I don't eat lamb (because I neither like the taste, nor do I eat the flesh of creatures that cutely fulfil roles other than being fodder - lambs give wool, that is their function, ducks eat bread and keep children amused in so doing, rabbits are pets and Bambi meat is not, to my mind, something that should appear on plates) I tried Sheep Brains, more out of intrigue than anything else. Both myself and The Boy explained to our gathered gastro buffs that it had tasted good, but the texture (and, in my case, possibly the thought of what it was I eating) left me not wanting to repeat the experience, The Boy, however, did eat it all and enjoyed it.
Has to be said (written) that among our numbers there was the odd doubting Thomas. In order to validate the existence of our Sheep Brain Dish, The Astrology Pimp (I will get round to an explanation of his nick name shortly) decided to fetch a menu from the take away. Upon his return we discovered that Sheep Brain was no longer on their menu (unfortunately, therefore, I can not actually prove that we ate Sheep Brains, you'll just have to take my word for it) however, we all spent a while looking at the menu, discussing the various dishes and to be honest, it made me hungry. Whilst I was contemplating my hunger, The Astrology Pimp was excitedly relating some of the menu items to everyone, one such delight being 'Bang Bang Chicken'. In the confusion bought about by the laughter as all of us made the link to Octopus, the porn hub story and this dish, plus The Astrology Pimp's accent The Boy misheard him and thought there was a dish called The Bent Chicken. Much hilarity followed, as it was suggested that The Boy could offer this service (bending chickens) to our customers and that he could also branch out into the bending of other creatures too.
As Bleep (who has some skill in the selection of Juke Box songs that befit conversations - oh and I will get to an explanation of his nick name too in the fullness of time) had gone all redneck (musically speaking) there then followed what can only be described as several 'mini' comedy sketches, in deep southern, American accents which also alluded to 'Of Mice and Men':
"Whatcha doin Boy?"
"Am bending me a chicken, George. I like bending the chickens."
"Ya needs to be a feeding the chicken's Boy."
"Shall I feeds em the Alfalfa, George?"
Once the laughter from this turn of events had dissipated, it was time for The Astrology Pimp to take centre stage. During each of his visits it has become a ritual for The AP to read the horoscopes of everyone present. What actually stuns me is that The AP only has to be told once what someone's birth sign is and he remembers it, may be something to do with the fact that he is a Capricorn (or horny goat). During his readings to females, which are taken from The Sun newspaper, so they must be correct, if there is any slight reference to meeting someone new, developing a relationship or falling in love, The Astrological Pimp will break from his reading, look the recipient in the eye, and with a Joey Tribiani nod of the head ask "How you doin?" This he does to every female for whom he reads, hence the nickname - The Astrological Pimp. (See told you I would get there eventually).
Whilst I am explaining such things, Flash (I can not elucidate upon that one, I have been sworn to secrecy, by Flash, and being a good landlady - which is akin in such matters to being a priest, what comes to pass in 'confessional' remains betwixt the confessor and myself, unless permission is granted otherwise, and then it becomes a blog) discovered that Bleep was once so called because he had a friend and the pair of them were known as Bleep and Booster - from the old children's TV show).
Remaining with The Astrological Pimp and returning to the previous blog subject of Duart, whilst outside taking some night air (and a little nicotine) Rainbow Warrior was testing The APs abilities to say words beginning with 'v' (for example, vindaloo, vagina and very) and then, due to the upcoming storming of the castle in spring (apologies if I have lost you now, but, seriously - READ the Duart Blog!) Rainbow Warrior decided to also test The AP's ability to master a Scottish Accent. Her own attempt at formulating a 'Scottish sentence' was hilarious (sorry, RW, but it was!) so I interjected and asked The AP to repeat this sentence - "You're nothin' but a muckle nuisance". Having watched Brigadoon, my own Scottish accent is quite good. The AP considered my words carefully and then said, "You're nothing but a moccasin". Clearly, our Astrological Pimp is going to prove very useful when we take back Duart, whilst the scots are trying to fathom out how a gentleman of his origin has come to have a 'Scottish accent' and use a moccasin as a weapon of insult, we'll probably have time to overthrow the Scottish Parliament as well as taking back my castle!
(Oh that reminds me - MEMO TO TROOPS: In preparation for our storming the castle, I hereby give ample warning, and make it known that The Leopard will be having a 'dress rehearsal' in preparation for the battle ahead, on St Andrews day - Wednesday 30th November, 2016. There will be merriment, Scottish Stuff and, of course, whiskey, but it is imperative that you wear your kilts - tartan picnic rugs and/or car blankets will suffice, so that I can conduct an inspection. Everyone will be invited to The St. Andrews Celebration, so troops, please make sure you are suitably attired, look smart and don't let me doon! Thank you - General Kaz. PS. If you can't wait for November to dress up, you might want to take a look at our Events, especially, the newly added 'Sing-a-Long' page where you will discover another excuse to dress up and maketh merry!)
So having shared some of what happened on Wednesday evening I must away. There is much happening at The Leopard at the moment, which means I have much to do. Before I leave, can I just say that I hope you all like (and come to enjoy) the new seating and tables at the front of The Leopard, that you are looking forward to be able to access FREE WiFi from tomorrow and that I am looking forward to revealing the 'Outdoor Lounge' (at the back of The Leopard) in a couple of weeks time.
Hope you all have a fantastic weekend, and if you get chance, come and experience the art of (weird) conversation for yourself and have a few beers at The Leopard.
