How many other bunnies can design and write their daddy owners a Fathers Day card?
* Call me cynical, but I suspect Roman may have received some help from his bunny mummy.
The live action version of The Jungle Book was on telly this afternoon. I’ve actually owned the film for a while, but have never got round to watching it.
Anyway, the purpose of this blog is to ask the question – was the ending fair?
I don’t think I am giving too many spoilers away when I say that the villain of the movie – a tiger named Shere Khan – dies at the end. He is killed by Mowgli.
Mowgli is a child who lives in the jungle. Do people usually live in the jungle? Not normally. Mowgli should be in a house somewhere, playing his PlayStation, like your typical 10-year-old kid.
Shere Khan is a tiger who lives in the jungle. Do tigers usually live in the jungle? Yes they do. Tigers hunt prey. If that prey happens to be a little boy, so what. Mowgli is in tiger territory. If you ask me, Mowgli had it coming.
The other reason Shere Khan’s murder (yes, I am calling it that) is wrong, is because tigers are an endangered species. There are only 3890 of them left in the wild. Thanks to Mowgli, there are now just 3889.
There are 7.7 billion people on the planet. Had Shere Khan eaten Mowgli, the human race isn’t going to cease to exist. He probably wouldn’t even be missed.
So, next time you watch The Jungle Book, think about the impact it has on the tiger species. If you see the film’s creators, throw a bucket of animal blood over them in protest. Actually, please do NOT do that. It is definitely illegal and probably assault. Plus, I don’t want to get into trouble, like Jo Brand, for encouraging a crime to be committed.
It is almost exactly a year to the day (364 days ago), that I was admitted to intensive care, seriously ill. Certainly a Friday night to remember.
I had been proper poorly for ages, having been off work for 5 weeks. I lost count of the amount of times that I met clinicians and consultants in orthopaedic and pain clinics. It felt like I had spent more time with my GP than a close family member. Don’t even get me started on those MRI scans.
I am a big supporter of the NHS, so reflecting on this aspect of my illness upsets me to write about. However, there were many frightening signs, concerning my health, which were missed by clinicians.
I don’t think that I realised myself, just how bad things were. Maybe because every clinician I saw either dismissed my worries, or was unconcerned. Throughout the first half of 2018, I became gradually more and more sick. I put my symptoms down to fatigue and even questioned my mental health.
So unaware of just how bad things were, that I thought the decision to call an ambulance to admit me to A&E was crazy. It was only when the paramedics arrived and administered oxygen, that everyone realised this was serious. I was just happy to be led down and take a ride in a van with blue flashing lights. I remember thinking “Wow, I’m pretty sick. I’m just going to suck on this tube of beautiful gas and rest my eyes for a bit”.
The next thing I know, is it is hours later, I’m in hospital, there is talk of sending me to intensive care and the only person in the world that I really want to see is my wife.
I still didn’t fully realise just how bad things were. You would think that if a stay in intensive care wasn’t enough to scare me into reality, nothing would. That may be true. I don’t think that even one year on, I truly appreciate the severity of the situation.
I am told that the first 24 hours in hospital were crucial. To put it bluntly, it sounds like I could have died. Despite all of this, while I believe everything that I have been told, I still don’t appreciate how close I could have been to the end…
Thankfully things worked out ok. This is thanks, in no small part, to the wonderful hospital staff (proving how amazing the NHS really is), my family and most important of all, my wife. You all saved my life.
I now feel better than I have in over half a decade. Despite a spell in hospital this January, for an unrelated issue, I haven’t had any further health problems. I own a wonderful home, a gorgeous house rabbit and best of all, am married to the most beautiful, funny, kind and caring wife in the world.
Life is good right now and it just goes to show, a lot can happen in 365 – sorry, 364 – days.
It is with happiness and surprise that I am now in a position to report my missing parcel has been found! There was me thinking Hermes had lost or eaten it.
Of course, as this was Hermes, things were not simple…
- Last night, I received an alert, advising that my parcel would be delivered between 7 and 9pm. Did I mention the email arrived well after 8pm? I’ll give you one guess as to whether or not Hermes managed to deliver…
- Anyone who guessed that Hermes delivered my parcel before the 9pm television watershed, go and have a look at the IQ Test I found last month. You’re stupid!
- If you worked out that Hermes were a bunch of shit-houses and didn’t bother with last night’s delivery, well done. Although don’t feel too chuffed – it’s hardly rocket science.
- I did finally get my parcel! Woo-hoo! My box of crap Leeds United merchandise arrived this morning. I was in work, while Claire had a day off.
- I am told by my wife, that a Hermes courier posted a card through our letterbox. Unfortunately, the card wasn’t of the ‘apology’ variety, with money in the envelope – although given the rubbish service Hermes provided, such a gesture would be the very least the courier could have done!
- The card may as well have said ‘F**K YOU’. It advised that a delivery attempt had been made and my parcel had been left in a safe place…
- Firstly, the doorbell was not rung and there was no knock on the door. How is that a delivery attempt? It was a lie. Claire looked out of the window, to see a courier escaping down our path to his car. Maybe his underwear was getting a bit hot and he needed to put a fire out?
- Secondly, the parcel was left outside, in the rain, in full view of the street. Hardly a safe place. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
- That said, there is a strong argument that leaving my package open to the elements and the local thieves, is a safer place than it remaining with a Hermes courier for a minute longer!
A craze, hitting social media at the moment, is to message a celebrity 31 years your seniour and ask for a fight. This is after Justin Bieber challenged Tom Cruise to a punch-out.
I got excited when I realised Michael Keaton was 31 years older than me. This would be like shooting fish in a barrel (for me). I would just run him over using my scooter.
I then got scared when I remembered he played the biggest, baddest and best Batman of all time…
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
