It's turning into a really bad week for triffids.
The ones that were left over from the unfortunate conflagration turned up unexpectedly at our Folk Festival in the grounds this evening. Being creatures that make an ominous drumming noise to communicate, they were confused by the sound of the bodhran in our guest Folk act, Rusty's Dumpy Knuts. So the bodhran boy looks up from his folk-induced trance, to find he's surrounded by 7 foot carnivorous plants. Needless to say he screams.
The scream attracted the attention of a Morris side who had been lurking down by the electric fence we erect at every Folk Festival to keep them out. Being of a heroic nature, albeit annoying, they climbed over the fence, insulating themselves with their hankies, and rushed over to the lad's rescue.
And came face to tendril with the triffids.
Turns out that Morris dancers and triffids have an enmity from the depths of time. Born of a particularly nasty experiment by an evil mastermind that crash-landed in the Amazon rainforest when his spaceship crashed on its way from Polaris to Sirius, they share 99 per cent of the same DNA. But whereas Morris dancers can pass as human in dull light if you only ask them simple questions, the triffids have had to lurk in the hedgerows, avoiding the gaze of human kind - ever seeking for their evil soul-mates.
Naturally there was nothing for it but to battle it out in the most ancient and dangerous form of combat that has survived from those primeval times.
Croquet.
Gotta hand it to those triffids. Some of the most vicious croquet play I've ever seen outside the grounds of an English country vicarage. The Morris dancers were pretty resilient, and fought as hard as they could. But it was pretty clear none of them had been to Oxford. The triffids drove them off the court, out of the grounds, and into the Safari Park.
Where we made another discovery. Did you know that giraffes eat triffids? Oh boy, can giraffes eat triffids. Poor little human-eating vegetable terrors didn't have a chance. Who'd have though those spindly legs could kick the boles in like that?
Anyway. It's been a heck of a day. I'm just glad to get me feet up. And we've got an ecumenical meeting tomorrow. So it's only gonna get worse. I mean, triffids, Morris men and rampant giraffes are pretty wild. But two hours on whether you can put a tea light on the table in a Wesleyan Reform Chapel? Pass me the triffid seeds, I say.
The idea that Morris Dancers are related to Triffids isn't a new one. Jesus spoke of the seed cast on stony ground - they were the ancestors of the triffids, as they bounced off and crept away to grow isolated and alone, graduating from consuming unspecting insects to larger mammals and birds until they met Morris Dancers. A chance coupling of a triffid with a Morris Dancer led to an unimaginable development the modern 'Female Morris Dancer'. And an influx of the germanic saxon invasion led to the wearning of leather shorts, socks and Southern German beer festivals, which are now described as binge drinking. So, that bloke who cast the seed on stony ground, has a lot to answer for.
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