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Who's afraid
of being bitten?
- James Clarke
Discussing how most of South Africa is malaria-free
at a recent travel conference in Johannesburg, a visiting
British travel agent said, "I'm afraid the new
type of traveller from the UK flies into a panic if
he is bitten by almost anything at all".
"New type of traveller"?
My mind floated back to the Old Type? Would the Old
Type have been fazed by a little bite! Ha!
THE SCENE:
It is dawn and the mist rises to reveal a small camp
in the bush. Montague Cadwallader Ponsonby walks into
his companion's tent.
"I say Carruthers, not still in bed, old boy?
What?"
"Ah, I'll be up in a jiffy my dear fellow. Just
feeling a little seedy, y'know. Had a restless night."
"Not well, old boy?" says Ponsonby with
genuine concern.
"Actually, dear boy, I've been bitten."
Ponsonby then notices Carruthers' leg is just a bloody
stump, torn off above the knee.
"I say, old man, that IS a nasty bite!"
"Lion," says Carruthers. "Came into
my tent during the night and tried to carry me off!
Dashed thing!"
"I say! And we're still about 400 miles from
Lake Hebaba-reebah."
"My dear Ponsonby, it's a bite. That's all. No
need to make a big thing out of it. I'll be tickety-boo
after a cup of tea."
"But the Ruwenzoris, old boy! We have to cross
the Ruwenzoris. It's going to be frightfully difficult
with only one leg. And what if we run into the waHitto
and have to make a run for it. You know what they think
of the British."
"My dear Ponsonby, you worry so. Now, be a good
man and help me to my feet. Or, rather, my foot! Ha
ha ha. That was rather funny, what?"
Ponsonby helps Carruthers to his foot.
Inevitably, as the two men press on through the jungle
occasionally beating off things, Carruthers falls behind.
His bloody stump begins to attract more lions and a
few hyena. Then a hyena bites off his arm.
"I say, Ponsonby, I'm dashed if I haven't been
bitten again!"
"What absolutely beastly luck, old boy! Here,
try some more Peaceful Sleep."
At that moment the men find themselves eye-to-eye
with a waHitto war party, one thousand strong.
Ponsonby addresses them:
"My dear chaps, we come in peace for all mankind.
We just want your land in the name of the Great White
Queen, that's all. Of course, if you WANT something
for it I'm sure we can come to some amicable arrangement.
Here, have a bag of salt old chap. No? Some beads perhaps?"
The tallest warrior says in sign language: "Chief
Ntgathla, Chief of Chiefs, Man Among Men, sends cordial
greetings to the great bwanas and says he would be awfully
glad if I brought you chaps back for dinner tonight."
"How dashed decent of him!" exclaims Carruthers.
"Carruthers, for goodness sake!" whispers
Ponsonby, urgently, "When the Chief says he wants
us for dinner I don't think he is necessarily going
to entertain us - I think he will be more inclined to
casserole us. We have no choice but to hop it."
"I say, how very droll," says Carruthers.
"That's all I can do is to 'hop it', what? Ha ha
ha. Look, my dear Ponsonby, why don't YOU make a dash
for it on your own? After all you've got twice as many
legs as I have and they probably see me as being perfectly
'armless. Ha ha ha, there I go again! Armless! I'll
distract them with my renditions from the Pirates of
Penzance until you are safely away."
Ponsonby solemnly salutes Carruthers' noble self-sacrifice
and escapes.
Carruthers sings lustily but the waHittos, fascinated
at first, grow restless and close in with their spears.
Carruthers sings "God save the Queen" (as
best he can with a stiff upper lip) and, as the spears
fly, resorts to "Daisy, Daisy". (Dies).
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