Born on State Highway 1

"Now where'd I put those pies?"

Napoleon (or, possibly, Frederick the Great) once said an army marches on its stomach. I have always thought that a far more effective mode of locomotion should involve the feet and legs in some way. But, as I am neither soldier nor cook, what would I know? Perhaps he meant to say an army of snakes marches on its stomach. How awesome would that be, an army of snakes?

It would, understandably, have to be an evil army; I can’t imagine any self-respecting serpent would enlist in an army that didn’t have at least a small element of ill will to it.

The carrying of rifles and ammunition might present somewhat of a problem, but nothing insurmountable. I fancy the solution would include some sort of snake-sized harness and bandolier combo with a gun on top. And, by means of the same device, certain snakes could even be outfitted with petrol tanks providing fuel for a rudimentary snake flamethrower.

Snake Army’s artillery division would operate much along the lines of any other army’s, so need not be expanded upon here.

I, of course, would command Spider Battalion. I am a magnanimous leader of men… aaaaand spiders… and inspire my troops to battle bravely and engage the enemy with every web-spinning ounce of their strength. The loyalty of a spider is a thing not given lightly.

Lt. Col. Boyle in spider-marshalling mode

Each spider’s eight legs more than make up for the snake’s lack of the same. The manoeuvrability afforded him by this preponderance of legs ideally suits the spider to such difficult but necessary tasks as scaling walls, redoubts and divers other earthworks, as well as immobilizing any enemy flies or moths.

Furthermore, their sturdy exoskeletons lend themselves well to the deflection of bullets, thus obviating the need for expensive and clumsy body armour.

At this point, we mustn’t forget the SAS or Super Army Spider. In addition to his special parachute training, his skill in hand-to-hand-to-hand-to-hand combat is unparalleled among arthropods. Indeed, many an SAS comports himself with such valour and steely resolve in battle that he regularly receives the Victoria Cross or evil spider equivalent. God bless you, brave spider! Your great deeds in the field have surely earned you a handsome nest at His right hand with Tarantula Jesus. Evil Tarantula Jesus, that is.

Next Time: Cromwell’s New Model Army (1645) containing no dinosaurs

I am currently in rehearsals for another show. This time the show is a musical—a kind of theatre in which I have not participated for a number of years now. The musical is The Who’s Tommy, opening at the Maidment in a couple of weeks’ time. If you’re at all familiar with the 1975 film version, you’ll recognize me as the Jack Nicholson character. Which is a good thing, because it means I get to have sex with Ann-Margret. Well, kind of…

Apart from Ann-Margret, I’m also doing a lot of chorus work. I enjoy it a great deal, despite the (in my opinion, incorrect) perception that it is largely faceless and thankless. I have always taken the old theatre saying that there are no such things as small rôles, only small actors, very much to heart.

I think the aspect of it I enjoy most is the seldom-arising opportunity it provides to sing really dense, sometimes eight-part harmonies. And when you hit it, nothing sounds more glorious than a chorus in full voice.

So, this singing deal has got me all nostalgic for my old barbershop days. It’s made me seriously consider re-forming my quartet. I do think, however, that after this many years a radical revamp might be in order, up to including a change of name and beyond.

The name I’m leaning towards at the moment is Odoürless Vagina. I’ve even planned out our discography: Shades of Odoürless Vagina, followed by Vagina Theory. Then comes Here’s More Odoürless Vagina! and A Very Odoürless Christmas. We’ll inevitably be playing a lot of concerts, so eventually there’ll be Odoürless Vagina: Live at Pompeii. I can already hear them talking…

“No, they don’t. They live on Crummer Road. I see them at Grey Lynn Foodtown all the time.”
“Yeah. I saw them at Woolworth’s just yesterday.”
“Think they just go round supermarkets waiting for people to recognize them? They seem the types.”
“It’s sad, really. Actually, I must mention—duck’s on special at Woolworth’s this week.”
“Oooh, I do like me a bit of duck.”
“Yeah. I picked myself up a couple. You should come round on Sunday; I’ll do us a roast.”
“I’ll make a pumpkin pie for pudding.”
“Steve, I’m dying. I have cancer.”
“…”

Duck: Yummy, yummy duck

DUKW: If yours looks like this, you've done it wrong

Next Time: The seventh chord and its importance to and prevalence in barbershop and poultry preparation