Chinese whispers

So the Chinese government launched a cyber-war against Google after a politburo member googled his own name and found he was as highly-regarded as a hornet on a horse’s arse. A classic example of shooting the messenger, I would say. Here is some friendly advice for Mr Li Changchun, minister for propaganda and chopstick torture – if you can’t stand the heat, get your face out of the frying wok. Hacking Google to pieces won’t stop people sticking your name in Ask Jeeves and other search engines. If a billion people think you’re a dickhead, nothing can stem the tide of opprobrium. 

It’s a pity the actions of the Chinese government are overshadowing all the good things emerging from the Middle Kingdom. Consider, for example, the Chinese cheerleading team sent to entertain spectators at the Asian Games. A picture of them is displayed above, so you can gaze at your leisure. After admiring their cheerful little faces and twirly little hip tassels, pay due regard to their flowing locks of hair, gently caressing the tender flesh above and between their pert little jahoobies. While it’s true that their slender bodies are not ideal for making babies, bear in mind that China already has more than enough people. A nation of one-and-a-half billion can afford a few million ornamental females. 

The Chinese cheerleaders were a mixed blessing for some. The captain of Yemen’s volleyball team complained that his players had been put off their game by the presence of these fragrant lotus blossoms. 

“They had an effect on how we played,” said Adeeb Mahfoudh. “I think they had something to do with our losing the match.” 

Before you pour scorn on his assertion, remember that he and his team mates come from a place where women walk around in mobile tents. The sight of pretty oriental girls prancing about in bikinis might easily have caused them to jizz their pants. Effective coordination of motor skills is close to impossible when you’re gnashing your teeth like a badger with its tail in a trap. 

“These girls are very beautiful,” added Mr Mahfoudh. "If I can, I hope to watch them perform at the next match." 

What a fine example of sportsmanship! A lesser captain might have harboured a grudge against the cheerleaders for their part in his team’s defeat. I do hope he managed to introduce himself to the girls and offer them tips on how to avoid distracting players during a game. I feel sure they would have taken his advice to heart. For all their beauty, I doubt they are used to the kind of outright admiration Mr Mahfoudh professes. Most men in China favour the Fu Manchu style of courtship, in which smug boasting and impatient cajoling are combined with mysterious herbal potions. 

The other thing in Mr Mahfoudh’s favour is that Chinese women find big noses sexually attractive. Why they do so is a mystery. I suspect they are subconsciously reminded of dragons, which are viewed as prodigiously sexy beasts in China. If a man has an appendage that women like, he may as well use it to his advantage. 

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Barking up the wrong tree

How disappointing to hear that an American Mom got sent to the loony bin for impersonating her 15-year-old daughter. This continual blurring of the line between madness and eccentricity will cast a blight over human society. All the 34-year-old woman did was go back to school so she could become a cheerleader. There’s nothing remotely potty about that and I can’t see how she was inconveniencing anyone. On the contrary, I bet her bodily gyrations inspired the beefy footballers far more than the usual girlie whirling. In a heavy contact sport you need the curvy flesh of a mature woman to encourage the home team to get stuck in.

I never call anyone mad unless their urges have a self-destructive edge. A good example of a real nutter was that German fellow who agreed to let a cannibal eat him. After dining together on his severed penis (no more than an appetiser, one would assume), the cannibal killed him and feasted on his body. So apart from the penis hors d’oeuvre, the victim was plainly unable to enjoy whatever pleasure there was in the act. That put the seal on his condition as far as I was concerned. A lunatic in his right mind would have demanded that the cannibal eat him alive.

People often assume that the tyrants of human history were mad, but I reckon this was rarely the case. A lot of them, like Caligula, were just plain bad, and a few others had some physical illness that made them act strangely. Take King George III of England for example. He’s known as the mad king, but he actually had a rare disease that turned his urine blue. I know for a fact that passing blue water makes humans cantankerous, because I once had dealings with an old gypsy woman who briefly suffered from this condition. She was a prickly character from the start to be honest, but once her piss turned blue she started cackling like a demented witch. Fortunately I managed to resolve my differences with her peacefully.

If you enjoy listening to poppycock, the most entertaining mental disorder is paranoia. I remember sitting alone in Dr Whipsnade’s lounge when I was joined by his houseguest, an antique dealer by trade.

“Rainy weather,” I said, making polite conversation.

“I like the rain,” he replied, “it gives me the chance to stock up on fresh water.”

“Isn’t your house connected to the mains supply?” I asked.

He then gave me a vehement sermon on the dangers of drinking tap water. He said that it was doped with chemicals to make men infertile and women insatiable. This allowed select breeding males, most of them freemasons, to impregnate women at their leisure and populate the next generation with their offspring. “Have you ever seen a freemason drink tap water?” he asked rhetorically. “They all buy the bottled stuff from Tesco.”

I thought it best not to argue with him. These delusional types have a rebuttal for every critique and I didn’t want him to accuse me of being a freemason.

“I am both fascinated and disturbed by your discourse,” I said truthfully. “If you don’t mind, I would now like to watch a Foghorn Leghorn cartoon on TV.”

“If you’re turning on that contraption I’m off to the conservatory,” he said. “People who watch television don’t realise that the television is also watching them.”

This assertion made me feel like Foghorn Leghorn – that rooster was always dealing with creatures crazier than himself.

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