A Fruity Affair…

Beyond reason, beyond sense, lies man.

In millions of years (days?) hence, when they try to understand our demise, they will return to this.

They won’t understand it. They’ll read, book after book after book, and still they won’t understand it.

They’ll turn to film, to documentaries, to chat shows, to anywhere words might lie, spoken, written, unrehearsed, carefully constructed. And still they won’t understand it.

Let me try and explain…

If you are told a watermelon cannot be split and you split a watermelon, would you think the universe had collapsed? Would you then spend hours debating whether or not the watermelon should have been split?


The proposed minutes for  THE COUNCIL FOR THE ARBRITRATION OF ALL MATTERS PERTAINING TO ALL THINGS (previously known as the WANKERS until a disagreement over the use of the definite article: some felt it suggested they were the only wankers, others felt it quite rightly highlighted that they were the definitive wankers..)

One foolish soul, we’ll call him GOOD SENSE (cause he’s actually Maurice), might point out that splitting the watermelon makes it easier to eat – we no longer have to peel it.

Another man, a man who is more man than GOOD SENSE, we’ll call him MR. V. V REDUNDANT (cause he is), might point out the inevitable loss of the finely honed watermelon peeling skill.. he might even add a sad shake of his head. He might keep adding a sad shake of his head even when the tea lady comes in with chocolate eclairs.. and when she leaves again..

A hesitant man, we’ll refrain from calling him fool as he is striving to understand at least. Instead we’ll call him*REDACTED*, fine.. BROWN NOSE then. BROWN NOSE might timidly whisper, “but surely if we no longer need to peel watermelons we have no need to know how to peel watermelons?”

We will pause as they surely did, breath held, heart and éclair in mouth, listening for the crack that will tell us the universe has finally broke under the weight of our blasphemy.

(at this point we will also stop saying might as it has been pointed out, it might be getting annoying. However please presume it to be implied; just cause something has happened does not mean that it does not need our approval to happen).

When no crack is forthcoming and the Heimlich manoeuvre has been performed to oust the éclair from poor WANDERED INTO THE WRONG ROOM’s throat, another man steps grimly to the centre of the group. The very centre.. he makes BROWN NOSE measure it, and of course check said measurement in inches, millimetres and hands, because once hands served us well.. (reasonably well..kinda. they’re all different sizes..)

This man is more man than any man. This man needs no name, this man asks for no name, this man is … well technically that would be a name..  and while “…” might quite rightly point out that is my problem not his, while also insisting I finish my sentence, cause he really doesn’t approve of unfinished sentences, we’ll just move on as I’ve written myself into a hole..

The man, “…….”, has been rambling for some time now about the fine and noble art of watermelon peeling. An art that has served mankind well for centuries when we could not split the watermelon.

BEGS THE QUESTION, a man often misunderstood, is wondering, if the question is whether the watermelon should be split and not whether the watermelon can be split, has there ever been a time when it could not be split? If all it takes is man, a watermelon and a long drop?  But what’s the point in mentioning it, he already knows the answer..

EXPELETIVE CONSTRUCTION stands up at this point and declares, “There is no watermelon.”

But everyone knows it best to ignore him as much as possible.

That PREPOSITION fellow is crawling under the chairs looking for his éclair. He can never remember where he puts things.

“….” Is getting quite pissed off now (not least cause I keep forgetting the ‘be’ in because) and calls for a vote. PREPOSITION bumps his head somewhere near or on or about a chair. There was definitely a chair involved.

PASSIVE VOICE sniffs that watermelon was never liked by her anyway. Why a vote must be made by her, is beyond reckoning (even by zombies.)

ACTIVE VOICE has located the missing éclair and is mounting an attack.

AND refuses to go first, BUT doesn’t mind.

ANA STROPHE shrugs and says, its a deal done, a watermelon split. Everyone ignores her. She always gets things backwards.

WHICH and THAT cancel each other out, while WHO leaves it to a man.

Since I’m getting bored and I know I’m going to have to spend all evening pretending to add in all the missing ‘be’s, I’ll skip to the result.

We decided to juice. More fibre.

Or I could just tell you to go read this. I read it just for the comments. Love comments section. Now excuse me while I go fix the door…

Pedants, pow



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