So Nirvana have asked Paul McCartney to be their lead singer. A shrewd move. Whatever you say about Paul, he’s not going to kill himself like that drug addict who used to be their front man. He might die of natural causes, of course, but such is the fate of all mortal men. I hope they tape a device to his chest to monitor his vital signs when he’s performing. For a Beatle to die on stage would be more than the world could bear. Even to contemplate such a tragedy makes me howl with anguish.
I have a bet with the manager of the safari camp that Paul will outlive Mick Jagger. He thinks Mick is healthier because of the way he prances about on stage, but I know better. No man ever lived to the age of 100 by having ants in his pants. The secret of longevity is a serene mental outlook combined with the avoidance of physical jerks. Jagger falls short in both departments, which is why he’s as wrinkly as a prune. He won’t be able to keep it up for much longer. (Behaving like a hyperactive rooster, I mean.)
It’s an interesting fact of human biology that women live longer than men. That’s why old women greatly outnumber old men. People sometimes ask me whether evil old witches like Rider Haggard’s Gagool are common in Africa. The answer is no. Any woman half as wicked as Gagool would be thrown to the crocodiles before she got to middle age. Old ladies in Africa are wonderfully benign and sometimes have the power of prophesy. One such ancient seeress held me in her arms when I was a baby gorilla.
“Thine eyes are bright, my little hairy one!” she crooned in an obscure Congolese dialect. “I foretell thou shall migrate to a northern land and acquire human language and learning; whereupon thou shall join a great carnival and entertain the multitude in many ways, including the kicketh of clowns in the arse; after which thou shall return to the jungle with a tidy fortune to invest in the safari business; and thenceforth shall thou enjoy a life of much leisure, japing and whimsical banter.”
Needless to say, her prophesy was 100% accurate in every particular. I often visit her grave, which I decorate with scented African violets and banana peel.
Now, why do women live longer than men? The answer is testosterone, by which I mean the lack of it. In addition to making men frisky, this naughty hormone has various deleterious effects on health, which shortens the average male lifespan. This has been verified by a study showing that eunuchs live longer than men with their goolies intact.
I don’t suppose Paul McCartney will be interested in using this knowledge to prolong his own life. His attractive new wife has plenty of mileage in her for one thing. But wouldn’t the sacrifice of an ageing nutsack be a price worth paying to delay the death of another Beatle? I’m not saying anyone should force him, but he ought to consider it seriously.
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