Vittles 2

When briskly pavement-gliding, reverse moonwalking or even kicking-forward at a normal, much-to-do-about-nothing type-pace, you might one day trip over something small and inconsequential afore your striding path.

Small is, infact, Big – as exampled recently by a case which made luminous much bowel-fishing, profligate word-play from the red topless’.  This being the case of the slug whose sheer terrifyingly small dimensions, and most likely similarly-sized ambition, killed a young motorist.

A modern-day, Baz Luhrmannesue remake of David vs. Goliath, Said Slugs’ sluggly-trail, like a wedding-train of ill-fate, crippled as effectively as kryptonite on superman, the line of sensors placed on a road signalling to a set of traffic lights, and tripped a short-circuit in the system which inevitably led to a def light being switched off for twenty mintues.  Unless the ensuing disaster was a pre-meditated attack in revenge for the past winters incessant road salting, then I would say that small is, at any critical divergent on the axis of time and place, as devastatingly powerful as MASSIVE, GINOURMOUS, FUCKING BIGGER THAN YOURS ANYWAY.

So small, we have it, is Big.  And also exponentially dangerous.  However, what I am describing is more striped caterpillar than hapless slug- as it is also RED the colour of DANGER and this is why, so often around town, I notice them everywhere.  I believe they are symptomatic of a litter-bugging, ‘Nay- I do not give a toss if your letters are late…By a week…If you've got any complaints, write to us’, Royal Mail Postal Service.  A band-of-brothers so far removed from the dedicated Postman Pat of yore, it is hard to reconcile that they derive from the same genealogy.  Just think, for every tacky birthday e-card you send, a non-striking postal worker, (If found- I often wonder if posties strike in order to rush off to work their second job on the London Underground, and vice-versa), somewhere, lets out a death knell.

Yes!  Now it makes some kind of sense.  It’s those little red elastic bands that don’t biodegrade isn’t it!  The red elastic bands that all our fan mail is bunched together in.  Separating your, lesser collection, from mine- which is dropped round the back to the IT department, to be sorted by a small team of Irish Travellers.  The red elastic bands, which, like self-loathing, sexually-depraved mayflies, have but one day of existence outdoors, before sucked up into the street cleaners’ chariots like helpless Noah into the mouth of the whale. (A whale that flosses)

The Disintegrator : Fires 144 elastic bands at a time

Practically as aplenty as pigeons around London, if you collected every single one seen on your daily commute and combined them into that old-skool gadget ‘Elastic-Band-Ball’, to then roll down a hill for larks, neighbouring schools and residential areas would have to be evacuated.  Best way forward in this would be to put an advert in the National Press, excluding the Daily Mail.

And so here it is.  The title of my blog.  The epitaph ‘A Red Elastic Band’ on the grave of our future generations’ ‘Green Planet’.  Each little red elastic band- the one you see, the one I see- an omnipresent emblem of our shared commonality as Mankind. 

It is also a fantastically cost-effective marketing campaign, being free.  So I am spanning some large demographic trawling nets of advertising, as that is some wide distribution.

   No need for the exertion of having to buy a silly hat and brightly coloured converse to tag up an advert in some scene shithole, like.  Hopefully scenesters wouldn’t be scene dead reading this blog.  This blog has been sprayed in anti-scenester-icide, so if they are, not to worry, then soon they will be. 

XXX 




Some ideas of what to use your red elastic band for :  


http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7985359.stm


Apparently a postie gets an £80 fine is caught red-banded :


http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2009/apr/09/shortcuts-red-rubber-bands

Ducks who accessorize :


http://www.hippyshopper.com/2008/04/curse_of_the_po.html