Thursday, January 8, 2015

The Big Throater

    Make this year The Big Throater!

    Life is a banana and you’ve got to swallow it whole!

    But first, a little preparation.

    You can’t just swallow a banana whole.
    First off, you’d choke on the skin unless you were fantastic at chewing or had ultra-responsive salivary enzymes.

    Second, not all bananas shipped from foreign climes have been thoroughly washed (because who eats the skin anyway?), so consuming the whole thing might put you at risk of coming into contact with gorilla sweat, weird beetle urine, and other potential infectants / irritants / spawners of terminal disease.

    So be sure to peel the banana.

    And wash your hands afterwards.

    And dispose of the banana-peeling gloves carefully.*

* After you’ve peeled the banana, and not before.  I know this is obvious, but I also know some of you are stupid that way and I don’t want my 2015 to be riddled with legal action shenanigans thanks to me being held responsible for the first death from Orang Mandible or Millipede Brain Rusk this side of Mozambique since 1945 and 1921 respectively.

    It also goes without saying that you should erect your (now fully peeled) banana on a pole.

    According to my 80s UK Government issued Citizens’ Guide To Throating (bundled as a ‘lighten the mood’ freebie with the now infamous Protect And Survive leaflet), professional throaters never use their hands.

    In any case, if the purpose of the exercise is to cultivate an atmosphere of exuberant optimism and resolve (which it is — sorry I missed that out right at the start but I wanted to cut to the chase in an in media res meets zero procrastination kind of a way), it would help immensely for your arms to be flung aloft as if you were plunging to your (faux) doom on a roller coaster designed and operated by a psychopath.

    So, preparations made (gloves, peel, pole, arms aloft), let’s kick off again (in media res, zero procrastination):

    Make this year The Big Throater!

    Life is a banana and you’ve got to swallow it whole!

    Feel for its tip with your lips like a Disney elephant sucking at a bun with its trunk!

    Slide those trembling lips over the tip with the zest of a lifeguard throwing a rubber ring round a drowning fat man.

    Slip your tongue down the shaft, pausing to anchor taste bud onto ridge before gliding further to the fruit’s gorged base with the grace of a human/cephalopod hybrid swimming butterfly in a pool of dolphin milk.

    Suck — like a black hole leading to a dimension of unparalleled paradise — till your lips kiss the unfurled skin flapping at the banana’s base, and your uvula is squeezed against the back of your throat with crotch-of-70s-flared-trousers inevitability.

    Throat life!

    Throat life and all its bounty!

    Till your fingernails fly from your outstretched fingers!

    And tiny dribbles of squeezed banana juice roll round the rim of your throat, narrowly avoiding your brachial tract or fast-tracking it up your nostrils and out into someone’s face.

    When Thoreau urged one and all to “go confidently in the direction of your dreams” he was trussed to a slow-turning ferris wheel circled by 101 bananas on poles.

    Like Cliff Richard said (in his classic Christmas hit Mistletoe & Wine):

    “Ours for the taking.  Just follow the master.”


fairyhedgehog said...

How can we cope without a photo of of a banana master doing this?

Whirl, you need to step up.

Whirlochre said...

Just hang on for the DVD...