Tuesday, 6 March 2007

Avian Pre-History & The Zombie Apocalypse

These two subjects are in no way interconnected (if only...). It's been a very avian sort of a morning for Dogtooth: when I stepped out to meet the a.m. I noticed the reptilian sprawl of the coot's foot; the geese were steeped in honied indolence - 'Vanish, ye phantoms, from my idle spright', said I. To no avail. I returned and began the usual mid-morning Wikibrowsing: I flirted with falconry, and settled finally on a comprehensive index of Late Quaternary Prehistoric Birds. If, like me, you are of such a disposition that relishes the occasional departure from rocky reality to shamanic flights of fancy, you no doubt find the pre-history of the Earth an engrossing subject. I have learnt about bolide impacts, Moa and post-glacial rebound. Last year the London Prodigal and I visited the Horniman museum in SE London (Forest Hill - where they nabbed the bank-robbers - nice place). Exquisite taxidermy was the order of the day. I recall with great fondness a stuffed Dodo. I think it is the finality of extinction - seemingly more final than death (a debatable Newt point) - that has such an impact on the self-righteous failed celebrities who rally round the endangered species with their shabby rhetoric and cheap, hand-wringing catchphrases...

(Intermission: Dogtooth drinks a glass of water and drapes a wet flannel over his brow.)

Today my preferred ally in the zombie invasion we are all anticipating is Gustave Flaubert (pictured above). He was known at times to rampage fiercely around his study, waving his arms and sweating furiously; on other occasions he would loafe for hours on the hearth-rug, thinking. He displays the sort of temperament that can adapt quickly to its surroundings: when we are fighting the zombies, I will obviously want him angry and alert; at other times I will want him to keep himself quietly in a corner while I work on the problem of dispelling the zombies and saving mankind

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the
supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities[.]

3 comments:

The London Prodigal said...

I propose that Horniman's should be the Newt's museum of choice. Not only is it quite crap and unfortunately located it has a saving grace: one spectacularly stuffed Walrus.

Hamilton said...

In my view the best companion in a Zombie Apocalypse would be Marlowe. He was gay, so the hideout would be neat and tidy, but he was hard as nails, so he could kick zombie arse. His hard drinking would make my own consumption seem socially acceptable, and his spy background would be generally cool. Also, Dr Faustus implies he has some sort of knowledge of the dark arts, and as a Cambridge educated theologian he could quickly upgrade to a priest, and provide holy water etc.
The worst possible companion would, of course, be D.H. Lawrence.

The London Prodigal said...

Quentin Crisp would take issue with the 'neat and tidy' stereotype - to quote: 'After the first four years the dirt doesn't get any worse.'