GERBILS
Half an hour ago I was again feeling sorry for myself. Now, after successfully logging in to my online bank account, I feel re-energised, re-optimised and re-inspired. More worryingly, perhaps, I keep hearing the words "shove a gerbil up your ass" ringing in my ears. At this point I should probably confess that I used to own a brace of these endearingly cute desert rats.
My first one was called David - yes, David the gerbil. He was named after my best friend at the time. He had golden fur like a labrador, loved his swarthier wife Susan, and when he escaped from his cage he did a one-legged tap-dance that could put Lionel Blair to shame. He loved his nuts.
David and Susan begat Robert (my next best-friend) and Simone. It was at that point that I kind of lost count. A couple of albinos followed - Egor (I didn't mean to drop him on the cardboard box and permanently kink his neck, honest!) - and, less imaginatively, Albert. Some died of, er, natural causes. Others I sold (gerbils had not yet been fully emancipated). None were shoved up my ass, placed in my trousers or deliberately harmed in any way.
Nonetheless, I was attached to my gerbils, emotionally. So much so that I recall composing a gerbil rap one windswept afternoon when Games was called of. With a chorus sung to the tune of the "He's a skoller and I'm a skoller" advert, it went something like this:
I'm a gerbil and I am cute
I'm brown and furry, also minute.
Everyday I like to play on my little wheel.
But if my owner comes I start to squeal (behave, please).
So, I'm a gerbil and you're a gerbil and gerbil's true with brew
When a gerbil comes to you can do
You can be a gerbil too, a gerbil nice and cute (squeak, squeak).
I don't know if Eminem's slightly ruder homage to the humble gerbil was inspired by this or not. But listening to "shove a gerbil up your ass" while cycling to work the other day was one of my more surreal - yet strangely pleasurable - recent experiences. Listening to it again on the tube today was no less bizarre. And given how crap the rest of my day was, songs of rodent-beastiality were undoubtedly the highlight.
Half an hour ago I was again feeling sorry for myself. Now, after successfully logging in to my online bank account, I feel re-energised, re-optimised and re-inspired. More worryingly, perhaps, I keep hearing the words "shove a gerbil up your ass" ringing in my ears. At this point I should probably confess that I used to own a brace of these endearingly cute desert rats.
My first one was called David - yes, David the gerbil. He was named after my best friend at the time. He had golden fur like a labrador, loved his swarthier wife Susan, and when he escaped from his cage he did a one-legged tap-dance that could put Lionel Blair to shame. He loved his nuts.
David and Susan begat Robert (my next best-friend) and Simone. It was at that point that I kind of lost count. A couple of albinos followed - Egor (I didn't mean to drop him on the cardboard box and permanently kink his neck, honest!) - and, less imaginatively, Albert. Some died of, er, natural causes. Others I sold (gerbils had not yet been fully emancipated). None were shoved up my ass, placed in my trousers or deliberately harmed in any way.
Nonetheless, I was attached to my gerbils, emotionally. So much so that I recall composing a gerbil rap one windswept afternoon when Games was called of. With a chorus sung to the tune of the "He's a skoller and I'm a skoller" advert, it went something like this:
I'm a gerbil and I am cute
I'm brown and furry, also minute.
Everyday I like to play on my little wheel.
But if my owner comes I start to squeal (behave, please).
So, I'm a gerbil and you're a gerbil and gerbil's true with brew
When a gerbil comes to you can do
You can be a gerbil too, a gerbil nice and cute (squeak, squeak).
I don't know if Eminem's slightly ruder homage to the humble gerbil was inspired by this or not. But listening to "shove a gerbil up your ass" while cycling to work the other day was one of my more surreal - yet strangely pleasurable - recent experiences. Listening to it again on the tube today was no less bizarre. And given how crap the rest of my day was, songs of rodent-beastiality were undoubtedly the highlight.
posted by David Cohen at 11:41 pm
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