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BADGERS
Badgers
are excellent.
We
know this to be true.
They’re
far cooler than you’d expect from a stripy-faced weasel.
Especially
when you consider
That they
look like a throw-pillow from your gran’s sofa
To
which someone has applied a pint of Brylcreem,
And
two pairs of plimsolls from primary school PE.
The
way they move, however,
Is
like William Shatner backstage at a Star Trek convention,
They
know they’re the centre of this universe,
But
don’t feel the need to rub it in your face.
They’re
quite happy to smile and wave
En
route to their next speaking engagement.
Take,
for example, the two in the park by my house:
They
are respectable and dignified elder statesbadgers,
Patrolling
the park with sobriety and vigilance,
Graciously
listening to petitions from the local wildlife
And,
when needful, dragging recalcitrant toads
Off
to Bedfordshire Constabulary’s speed awareness courses.
All
in all, what with their commitment to duty,
With
each sternly watching the other
For
any hint of corruption or regal ambition,
They
are the very model of a certain sort of
Enlightened
Constitutional Diarchy.
Then
there’s the littlest badger, a creature
Which
once had the word ‘dignity’ described to it,
And
decided it didn’t want any, thank you very much.
The
littlest badger is one whom I once saw
Get
so excited at finding a discarded kebab
That
it ran in circles for a bit
Then
charged headfirst into a dog-poo bin.
Which
it then growled at,
As
if daring the bin,
Or
perhaps the dog poo inside
To
even think about laughing.
The
littlest badger is the one which scampers
Back
and forth behind the older two,
Making
excited noises,
And
galloping headlong through flowerbeds.
“Bugger
you, flowers! Pending data
On
the success of regional projects to reintroduce
The
wolf and brown bear into Britain,
I’m
the largest carnivore on these islands
And
I hereby decree that petals are for dorks,
So
move your leafy arses!”
It
seems to say.
Did
you know, in Britain
Badgers
are the main predator of metaphors?
As
such, many literary charities refuse
To
release their rehabilitated metaphors,
Full
of life and ready to take on the world,
Into
known badger territories.
Wait,
no, not metaphors.
Hedgehogs.
Badgers
eat Hedgehogs.
Not
everything’s a metaphor.
One hopes you're well,
yrs,
ADWoodward
