Sunday, September 17, 2006
I have been bitten by some type of bug on my left elbow and there is now an angry lump of red itchiness there. And it seems to me that this year of all the insect bites I've endured (up a bit from previous years due to time spent at the allotment, a trip to a friend's boyfriend's parent's place in Norfolk and an evening in a marquee by the river playing ukulele with a bunch of lesbians - all sites rife with tiny carnivores) my elbows have had far more than their fair share. Now, I have good elbows I like to think - functionally sound and aesthetically not too shabby, generally fit for purpose - but still I have to wonder, from the point of view of the sophisticated insect diner: what's the attraction? Are my elbows the tastiest bit of me? Are they the talk of the insect world? Are there tiny insect flyers distributed to tiny insect homes reading "Eat at Dave's (elbows)"?
And is it just me or are elbows everybody's prime cut? In primitive cannibal tribes are the hoi polloi fed the usual cuts while the elbows are reserved for their gods, their chieftains and the stars of their soap operas? "Waiter, I'll have the fillet of elbow marinaded in bursal fluid and pan-fried with foie gras and truffles please. And chips."
I guess I'll never know. It transpires that trying to discreetly nibble on other people's elbows is frowned upon (as the magistrate made very clear to me) and I can't even get a lick of my own.
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