Wednesday, 13 November 2013

Lowlife 44 - Where there’s Muck there’s Brass

Where there’s Muck there’s Brass

The BBC reported yesterday that a new £2m sewage treatment plant in Slough is to turn human excreta into a sustainable source of environmentally-friendly high grade fertiliser that experts claim could help secure future global food supplies.  Phosphorous, being a vital component of fertiliser, is due to run out in the next few decades but human poo seems to contain a high percentage of the mineral so treating it (but not to flowers and chocolates and the like) is solving the problem of the dwindling phosphorous stocks.  Being a mere simple writer I am no scientist but if our human waste contains a high level of phosphorous it must be because we are eating it all in the first place, hence the shortage.  It would not surprise me one jot to find out that Mr Ping, the chef at the Rhareli Peking, laces all of his dishes with the mineral as apparently too much phosphorous can lead to diarrhoea.  Phosphorous has the atomic number of 15 and appearing at that number on the Peking’s menu is phosphorous fried rice, so I now understand their little in-house joke.

The thought of eating vegetables that have been nurtured with the assistance of fertilizer made partly from the Pirate’s fecal matter is putting me off eating the usually lovely, luscious sprout for life.   So next time you are sitting on the karsi having a number two, pondering the wonders of life and the universe you can turn your idle thoughts to speculating where the fertiliser that is made by your very own droppings will end up; a field of asparagus in the gentle Worcestershire countryside might be effectively splattered in your bum gravy.  It is a very sobering thought and enough to turn a person to drink or at least to making one’s dietary habits less vegetarian and more carnivorous.

Without the fertilisation from phosphorus it is predicated that the world’s food production could fall by more than half which will be bad news for most of us but it will probably do Sleepy Tom Parker a favour as he has returned from his annual jaunt to Tenerife fatter than ever.  

Fortunately Tom didn’t holiday in the Philippines.  Amid the awful, dreadful chaos and catastrophe caused by the typhoon this week it was good to see that the Filipino authorities took time to exercise originality by declaring “a state of national calamity” as opposed to the oft used and tired “state of national emergency.”  After testing several beers with the ungainly and shambling DG Depardieu (who has temporarily escaped the colonies) and the nonpareil Alexander Sutcliffe on Monday night I had to declare a state of personal calamity on Tuesday morning after being afflicted with a mild to moderate case of biliousness.  Although it is indecent to consume Mini Cheddars before 1000 hours I deemed the situation serious enough to dispense with the normal convention but alas the Cheddars did not work their usual magic, leaving me with an unsettled and quivering stomach. 

I only have myself to blame as I sampled the delights of the orient for supper on Sunday eve by suffering the wares “cooked” by Mr Ping of the Rhareli Peking Chinese take away.  As I am generally amazed at the speed of service in the Peking, as part of my visit on the Sabbath I decided to clock the precise time it took from the Assassin taking the order to him passing me the white bag of foodstuffs.  When the Assassin emerged from Mr Ping’s kitchen with the order and gaily shouted to me “here sir, weddy sir!” with his usual gleeful countenance my eyes roved to my watch to reveal the time of 1 minute 53 seconds.  If it wasn’t for his sad demise I am sure that Norris McWhirter would have appeared from the kitchen declaring Mr Ping to be a record breaker.  Under two minutes.  Absolutely and utterly amazing.   I was left in a state of intense puzzlement, wondering how Ping can get the food out so quick, being under the two minute barrier does not even give him time to trouble his microwave.   I reached the conclusion that NASA must be using the Rhareli Peking to test new express cooking techniques to be used in the confined galley on the space shuttle.

On Sunday the Flagon & Gorses was not in another stratosphere but I was asked to adjudicate on a point of order following a debate that seemed to have being raging for most of the afternoon; I was flattered that the Flaggoners that I was sitting with (being Pat Debilder, Mother Tersea, Weston Super-Leeds and Mick Stzyder) thought that I had sufficient general knowledge to provide a definitive answer to the issue at hand but in reality it was nothing to do with my perceived abundance of learning but more a case of them knowing that I have the ability to use Google on my mobile telephone.

The point of order in question was the question of where faggots originate from: Mother Teresa contended that they come from the Black Country, Mick Stzyder was wisely non-committal, Pat suspected Scotland but was not firm in his belief but Super-Leeds was adamant they originated from Yorkshire.  I posed the question to the font of all knowledge that is Wikipedia which provided an answer that we could use as definitive for our purposes.   All eyes were on me and the parties in question awaited the answer with baited breath and the place where faggots originate from turned out to be …………………..Wiltshire. 

Fudgkins could have moved to Wiltshire for all I know as he has been inconspicuous by his absence from the Flagon & Gorses for the last few weeks but there has been a reported sighting of him in Krakow, Poland (and he’s difficult to spot given his diminutive frame).  I am glad to report than Interpol have restored Fudgey to his Netherton homestead where he has been confined to barracks nursing the lovely Mrs Fudgkins who has suffered the misfortunate of breaking her wrist.   Special Agent Fudgkins did manage to sneak out of his dwelling for a few brief minutes on Monday though as I assigned a mission to him of great importance, the success of which could determine the level of enjoyment of my dear son Kenteke and I during the festive period. 

I want to buy tickets to see Mother Goose in December at Netherton Arts Centre (which like Agent Fudgey is small but full of character) but due to the inconvenience of work I cannot get to Flavell’s butchers in Netherton, which in typical Black Country style acts as the box office.  Fudgkins has gladly stepped into the breach to affect the transaction on my behalf but sadly he cannot attend the pantomime himself as he is back off to Poland to watch a football game.  Agent F must be mad as the Polish use attendance at football to satiate their desire for wanton violence and they do not confine their vicious acts to the opposing fans as they are happy to brutalise anyone.   So after his Yuletide visit to Krakow dear old Fudgey could well be returning to these shores in a (very small) box; that said, despite his ageing frame Fudgkins is nothing if not nimble and he should be able to escape through the legs of the shaven headed Polish thugs.

One person who you could not attach the word nimble to is the lumbering and physically graceless DG Depardieu.   DG was born onto a copy of a local paper on his parent’s bed in the back streets of his native Dudley and the incident was later immortalised in the song I was Born on the Express & Star that was sang (or rather spoken) by Lee Marvin in the film Paint the Flagon, which was an account of the last lot of renovations at the Flagon & Gorses in 1969.   Depardieu is trying to scratch a living as a full time writer having had a series of children’s books published to date but I have visions of him sitting around all day in his pants and vest (not a sight for the faint hearted) in his Brisbane bolt hole studying horse racing form and chain drinking tea.   DG  claims that in actuality he is hard at it writing all day though he did concede that most of his scribbling is rubbish but then after a few drinks he let the façade slip and he said, and I quote, “when I used to work…………”.  He hastily tried to retract the statement but the cat was out of the bag, meowing, sh*tting on the lawn and trying to evade the clutches of Mr Ping at the Rhareli Peking.  

Reading between the lines I hazard that Depardieu bangs out one of his brief kiddies books on a Monday morning, retreats to the little boys room for his favourite activity of having a leisure poo and spends the rest of the week untroubled by the toils of labour.  At least his extended toilet activity will aid in part the production of phosphorous fertiliser which will in turn help to grow the food to keep the show of weird and wonderful humanity on its long and winding road.  Take it away Sir Paul ………………………


© Dominic Horton, November, 2013.  

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