Monday, December 15, 2008

Gone Fishing

Why do they call it "fishing"? After all, if I were in pursuit of, say, deer or wild boar, the said activity wouldn't be referred to as "deering" or "boaring", would it?

I suppose in the latter case, at least, the reason why it isn't is to guard against having to come out with statements like, "I was boaring all yesterday afternoon", because, on occasion, it could, of course, provoke the riposte, "Yesterday afternoon? You're always fucking boring, every day of the fucking week, you tedious fucking cunt." Which would then no doubt lead to arguments, fights, or worse.

Or, then again, perhaps this is exactly what used to happen, and why the term "boaring" subsequently fell out of favour. After all, if you'd risked life and limb, and been gored a few times for your trouble in pursuit of a hairy, tusked wild beast, you'd inevitably feel a bit pissed off when, having proudly announced the news of your triumph over Nature red-in-tooth-and-claw, everyone just responded by calling you a monotonous wanker who was probably functionally impotent, too, and with more than just a touch of BO.

Anyway, I only mention this because I went fishing yesterday afternoon. But en route, I encountered a dead wild boar being eaten by buzzards (probably roadkill - I can't imagine anyone wanting to take out a contract on one). Maybe the buzzards describe what they're doing as "boaring". It certainly looked it, and not very appetizing, either, as you can see from the photograph below.

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