Ladies...have you thought about finding a prince and settling down happily ever after? All you have to do is kiss a frog. Sadly what is happening in NZ is not a fairy story. Frogs might not be that easy to find.
True there are still one or two puddling around in the bush blocks, but most folk have noticed a definite lack of the once robust species.
We used to see them hopping across the country roads after a healthy rain fall, naturally many were unfortunately squished flat but we didn’t care, after all we argued, there would never be a shortage of frogs. We heard them croaking in the garden, in the creeks and parks, sometimes they made such a din we wished they would go away or croak once and forever. Our kids thought it a great adventure to catch a few tadpoles, put them in a jar and watch them transform into adulthood.
Let’s forget about the puns and frog-kissing for a moment and ask a serious question that at first glance does not sound at all serious...Where on earth have all the frogs gone?
I realise that by writing about the apparent disappearance of the humble frog it appears that I have joined the happy band of tree-huggers. Frankly, I don’t give a damn because the greenies are right in so many ways and after carrying out my own research I realise that there are some things we need to be concerned about.
I am alarmed about the blatant use of dangerous substances. Killer chemicals endanger our wild life and have the potential to harm everything from the bottom of the food chain upwards, to you, me, our children and grandchildren.
Is the apparent decline of the frog due to these sprays, was a question that warranted some detective work. It prompted me to read a few of the operator’s instructions on readily available herbicides.
Apart from making sure to wear protective clothing, tantamount to being encased in full body armour plus face mask, to use said herbicides; you have to be a licensed operator, watch for wind drift, keep away from crops used for human consumption and the weirdest instruction of the lot... ‘When using herbicide sprays on drains or river banks, make certain you are not spraying near water!’ In other words you can spray the sides of drains when they have dried up. (How ridiculous)
What, you ask, has this got to do with frogs or the lack thereof? Well for a start Mr and Mrs Frog like waterways and their preferred habitat is under attack. A herbicide spray called ‘Atrazine’ which in this country is often camouflaged through the use of numerous other product names, is banned in Europe but still available here as a broad leaf weed killer.
I have no doubt that any toxic spray will kill small insects and you do not have to be a rocket scientist to know that frogs eat small insects and by so doing come into direct contact with such sprays.
I could show you reports that claim Atrazine causes the development of prostate and breast cancers and worse in laboratory rats. These reports, readily obtainable from the internet, warn that humans could suffer similar carcinogenic problems as displayed in laboratory tested rodents.
But we are talking about frogs and hold on to your hat because it is not a pretty picture. Apparently, a visiting American scientist studied the effects of Atrazine on New Zealand frogs and came up with a real frightener. Long term exposure to low levels of Atrazine, ... 2.5 parts in a billion of water,... were found to have emasculated nearly 75 % of laboratory frogs. Of these, at least 10% turned into functional females who mated with males unexposed to the herbicide and produced viable eggs, (how weird) the remaining 90% showed fall in libido, lower sperm count and decreased fertility.(how sad)
Is it any wonder they are disappearing!? Look at it this way, what these reports are intimating is that Freddy Frog is not into mating because he is either flaccid or has become Freda Frog.
All this is scary stuff especially when you consider that the four types of New Zealand indigenous frogs are now endangered species. If this deadly product Atrazine and similar herbicides are so lethal that they can chemically castrate male frogs, turning some of them into females, we had better do something about making sure our children live happily (and safely) ever after. Oh! Sorry ladies, you can forget about the Prince idea, after all, how will you know whether you are kissing Freddy or Freda?
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
THE END IS NIGH...OR NOT
It’s happening again, as we draw closer to the year 2012 people are preparing for the end of the World as we know it. Let’s take a closer look at apocalyptic predictions and ask is it just media hype or is this really the en........
If you were one of the one million people standing in Time Square at one minute to midnight on December 31st 1999, you were probably very quiet. You were waiting for the inevitable stroke of midnight to either change the World forever or announce the beginning of the greatest celebration since V.E day. You were holding your breath; you might even have had a little tickle at the back of your neck. The folk surrounding you were wondering what the future held for their families. The older citizens, were reminiscing, some had prepared for the end, even welcomed it and were at peace. Young lovers, not daring to watch the clock, looked into each other’s eyes. They would face the end together: but it was not the end, it was the new millennium. As those one million Americans erupted into a sea of cheering and dancing, the sense of relief was palpable. Billions of people from every corner of the World also breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the predicted Y2K time bomb had not eventuated.
Half the World population were brain washed with the fear that a monumental computer crash would knock out every computerised system in every town. Power, water, traffic control, emergency services, sewerage systems and computer controlled dams, all would terminate. Anarchy and confusion would follow. Entrepreneurs with their money making panic books, written for a gullible public, had pulled off the greatest practical joke since Orson Wells ‘Alien invasion’ scare. When the clock in Time Square clicked into the new millennium, machines still worked, computers still functioned and planes did not fall out of the sky.
The Y2K debacle has been described as ‘the greatest display of mass silliness ever experienced on Earth.’ Now we are told to look out for 2012. The Mayan calendar comes to a shuddering stop on December 21st next year. It is said to be the end-date of a five/ 125 year long cycle. Some scholars have disputed the significance others have embraced it. Even our old friend Nostradamus has been bought into the mix. He seems to concur that Earth will be hit by another planet around the same time. Meanwhile the prophets of doom are once again having a field day. The Russians are building shelter pods for America’s elite, Hollywood is cashing in with scary movies and the wordsmiths are celebrating unprecedented book sales.
This time they may be right, or they may be wrong. Either way It could be prudent to dust off the Good book that languishes somewhere on your bookshelf. It’s a best seller that has never been out of print (although some will think that this is also mass silliness) Who really knows? Certainly no one can deny, things are changing on our planet. There are earthquakes in diverse places, the love of most is growing cold and the World has never seen so many wars and rumours of wars. Take a close look at Matthew 24. In the New Testament. There you will find some answers; if you read the whole book you may find all the answers.
If you were one of the one million people standing in Time Square at one minute to midnight on December 31st 1999, you were probably very quiet. You were waiting for the inevitable stroke of midnight to either change the World forever or announce the beginning of the greatest celebration since V.E day. You were holding your breath; you might even have had a little tickle at the back of your neck. The folk surrounding you were wondering what the future held for their families. The older citizens, were reminiscing, some had prepared for the end, even welcomed it and were at peace. Young lovers, not daring to watch the clock, looked into each other’s eyes. They would face the end together: but it was not the end, it was the new millennium. As those one million Americans erupted into a sea of cheering and dancing, the sense of relief was palpable. Billions of people from every corner of the World also breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the predicted Y2K time bomb had not eventuated.
Half the World population were brain washed with the fear that a monumental computer crash would knock out every computerised system in every town. Power, water, traffic control, emergency services, sewerage systems and computer controlled dams, all would terminate. Anarchy and confusion would follow. Entrepreneurs with their money making panic books, written for a gullible public, had pulled off the greatest practical joke since Orson Wells ‘Alien invasion’ scare. When the clock in Time Square clicked into the new millennium, machines still worked, computers still functioned and planes did not fall out of the sky.
The Y2K debacle has been described as ‘the greatest display of mass silliness ever experienced on Earth.’ Now we are told to look out for 2012. The Mayan calendar comes to a shuddering stop on December 21st next year. It is said to be the end-date of a five/ 125 year long cycle. Some scholars have disputed the significance others have embraced it. Even our old friend Nostradamus has been bought into the mix. He seems to concur that Earth will be hit by another planet around the same time. Meanwhile the prophets of doom are once again having a field day. The Russians are building shelter pods for America’s elite, Hollywood is cashing in with scary movies and the wordsmiths are celebrating unprecedented book sales.
This time they may be right, or they may be wrong. Either way It could be prudent to dust off the Good book that languishes somewhere on your bookshelf. It’s a best seller that has never been out of print (although some will think that this is also mass silliness) Who really knows? Certainly no one can deny, things are changing on our planet. There are earthquakes in diverse places, the love of most is growing cold and the World has never seen so many wars and rumours of wars. Take a close look at Matthew 24. In the New Testament. There you will find some answers; if you read the whole book you may find all the answers.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Look people
SHAKEN BUT NOT STIRRED
Surgeons, doctors, nurses and psychiatrists have fought to bring wholeness to his body, on occasions even rescuing him from the very brink of death. As with thousands of kidney disease sufferers, Mike is kept alive by being hooked up to a dialysis machine for forty two hours over every two week period. We talk about the man, his life and his faith.
He has undergone three kidney transplant operations, one of which functioned well for seven years, all eventually failed, he blames no one. Mike knows there are many he should thank. To the families whose personal loss made it possible for him to receive new kidneys, mere words seem inadequate. He will never meet them or know what circumstances led to their agreeing to a loved one's donation. What Mike does know is that there is someone who sees these things and shares their anguish
We all know that bad things happen to good people and vice-versa; no one can tell when their time is up or what is going to happen tomorrow. What we can do is live life to the full, ‘Carpe Diem’ or ‘seize the day.’ Mike and his wife Maree, helped by their strong faith are doing just that, although following this latest disaster they will be wondering just what God has in mind for them.
Their move to a place in the country was like a dream come true. They certainly had a lot of help with the big shift, including the moving and setting up of a very heavy and delicate dialysis machine. Friday night they had their first sleep in their new home. Mike was excited that they were not too far from town, his wife could still get to work and he and his son could continue their computer business. He was dreaming of the peace and quiet of the countryside, a few woolies, some cattle and maybe a porker or two, it was all part of the dream.
At 5.30 am on Saturday morning while it was still dark, the dream was frighteningly shattered. A massive mud slide rumbled down the hill behind the house. Tonnes of mud, huge boulders and mature trees hit the dwelling, wiping out the entire rear of the house in seconds. Fifty yards away, the fast moving wall of mud took out Mike’s new office, burying all his expensive gear including laptops and hard drives. The couple’s son had planned to sleep in the office that night but thankfully changed his mind.
Mike and Maree awoke to the roar of the moving hillside. Mud quickly filled the ensuite on one side of their bedroom and the walk-in wardrobe on the other, bursting into the bedroom each side of their double bed, which was like an island with them huddled on top, in the middle of a sea of wet mushy mud. Mike’s Dad had been helping them with the shift. He was asleep in his camper van parked beside the house in front of a double garage. The garage was completely demolished, the wreckage pushing the campervan down the driveway. To put it bluntly and literally it is a miracle they were not all killed.
At the time of writing, the home has been condemned and is in danger of being completely flattened by huge boulders that balance precariously on the hillside. The distraught but philosophical owners have been told that it is unlikely they will be allowed to build there again.
Mike and Maree, through the generosity of others, were able to find temporary accommodation, hopefully a permanent situation has now been acquired. They are shaken but not stirred in their faith and are putting their future in God’s hands. To most folk this all sounds a little naïve but consider this… In his twenties Mike was told he would never father children and could expect just ten more years of life; if he was lucky. They produced two sons and a daughter and at the latest count, three grandkids. He celebrated his fiftieth birthday a couple of years ago.
We wish you well Mike and Maree, you are an inspiration to us all.
SHAKEN BUT NOT STIRRED
Surgeons, doctors, nurses and psychiatrists have fought to bring wholeness to his body, on occasions even rescuing him from the very brink of death. As with thousands of kidney disease sufferers, Mike is kept alive by being hooked up to a dialysis machine for forty two hours over every two week period. We talk about the man, his life and his faith.
He has undergone three kidney transplant operations, one of which functioned well for seven years, all eventually failed, he blames no one. Mike knows there are many he should thank. To the families whose personal loss made it possible for him to receive new kidneys, mere words seem inadequate. He will never meet them or know what circumstances led to their agreeing to a loved one's donation. What Mike does know is that there is someone who sees these things and shares their anguish
We all know that bad things happen to good people and vice-versa; no one can tell when their time is up or what is going to happen tomorrow. What we can do is live life to the full, ‘Carpe Diem’ or ‘seize the day.’ Mike and his wife Maree, helped by their strong faith are doing just that, although following this latest disaster they will be wondering just what God has in mind for them.
Their move to a place in the country was like a dream come true. They certainly had a lot of help with the big shift, including the moving and setting up of a very heavy and delicate dialysis machine. Friday night they had their first sleep in their new home. Mike was excited that they were not too far from town, his wife could still get to work and he and his son could continue their computer business. He was dreaming of the peace and quiet of the countryside, a few woolies, some cattle and maybe a porker or two, it was all part of the dream.
At 5.30 am on Saturday morning while it was still dark, the dream was frighteningly shattered. A massive mud slide rumbled down the hill behind the house. Tonnes of mud, huge boulders and mature trees hit the dwelling, wiping out the entire rear of the house in seconds. Fifty yards away, the fast moving wall of mud took out Mike’s new office, burying all his expensive gear including laptops and hard drives. The couple’s son had planned to sleep in the office that night but thankfully changed his mind.
Mike and Maree awoke to the roar of the moving hillside. Mud quickly filled the ensuite on one side of their bedroom and the walk-in wardrobe on the other, bursting into the bedroom each side of their double bed, which was like an island with them huddled on top, in the middle of a sea of wet mushy mud. Mike’s Dad had been helping them with the shift. He was asleep in his camper van parked beside the house in front of a double garage. The garage was completely demolished, the wreckage pushing the campervan down the driveway. To put it bluntly and literally it is a miracle they were not all killed.
At the time of writing, the home has been condemned and is in danger of being completely flattened by huge boulders that balance precariously on the hillside. The distraught but philosophical owners have been told that it is unlikely they will be allowed to build there again.
Mike and Maree, through the generosity of others, were able to find temporary accommodation, hopefully a permanent situation has now been acquired. They are shaken but not stirred in their faith and are putting their future in God’s hands. To most folk this all sounds a little naïve but consider this… In his twenties Mike was told he would never father children and could expect just ten more years of life; if he was lucky. They produced two sons and a daughter and at the latest count, three grandkids. He celebrated his fiftieth birthday a couple of years ago.
We wish you well Mike and Maree, you are an inspiration to us all.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Dog on a lilly pad
Dog on a lilly pad
Sounds like the title of a Monet painting. I received a phone call from a neighbour who also lives next to Sullivans Lake. Apparently her little dog went missing the other day. She looked everywhere to no avail then suddenly spied the pooch sitting on a mat of lilly pads in the middle of the lake.
Horrors... but thankfully the said lake is quite shallow, allowing the lady to roll up her trousers and wade thigh deep to retrieve her little lilly loiterer. Unfortunately the lady, although delighted that her dog was saved, has developed nasty looking spotty things on her legs. If you saw the Lake you would know why this has happened. It is the most toxic waterway in our town, fish are dying, ducks are sick and the water is not water at all, it is green smelly stuff.
Maybe the little dog intended to make a sit-down protest, their definitely needs to be one.
P.S At last something is being done, the Council have raised the water level and had a field day retrieving dead ferral goldfish. It's a deffinate start.
Sounds like the title of a Monet painting. I received a phone call from a neighbour who also lives next to Sullivans Lake. Apparently her little dog went missing the other day. She looked everywhere to no avail then suddenly spied the pooch sitting on a mat of lilly pads in the middle of the lake.
Horrors... but thankfully the said lake is quite shallow, allowing the lady to roll up her trousers and wade thigh deep to retrieve her little lilly loiterer. Unfortunately the lady, although delighted that her dog was saved, has developed nasty looking spotty things on her legs. If you saw the Lake you would know why this has happened. It is the most toxic waterway in our town, fish are dying, ducks are sick and the water is not water at all, it is green smelly stuff.
Maybe the little dog intended to make a sit-down protest, their definitely needs to be one.
P.S At last something is being done, the Council have raised the water level and had a field day retrieving dead ferral goldfish. It's a deffinate start.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Seeing is believing
Ever been stalked?
My appointment with the optometrist, was more than disappointing, it was annoying. My new spectacles would not be arriving until early the following week.
Walking back through town, I could not help noticing I was being followed. It was embarrassing; one of those situations where you know someone is there but you cannot look straight at them in case they are genuinely going at the same speed and to the same destination as yourself.
He was on my left, perhaps a pace or two behind. I still had not got a good look at him but decided to take evasive action. Turning quickly, I waited for the traffic to ease and began crossing the busy street. I was not sorry to see the chap swing off to the left and walk away in the opposite direction. Coincidently as I turned and glanced back over my shoulder, he did exactly the same; it was then that I noticed just how large he was.
I told myself off for my judgemental attitude, ‘who cares if the poor fellow is slightly overweight’ I mumbled, ‘we all have our problems and who am I to judge.’ That was the end of it, or so I thought as I happily put the incident out of my mind.
Imagine my astonishment and annoyance to see that the cunning fellow had also crossed the road and without me noticing,he had somehow snuck around my back and was now walking on the opposite side of me.
‘I suppose he thinks I would not notice him... The fat fool’, I muttered to myself, ‘not the brightest glow worm in the cave’. Glancing out of the corner of my eye I was intrigued to notice that whoever this cheeky fellow was, except for the hugeness, he looked quite familiar. He was copying my every move, I stopped, he stopped; there were other people around and I did not want to make a scene. I tried staring at him, put my hands on my hips in an aggressive stance and stared eyeball to eyeball. He did exactly the same. Lucky for him, I soon reached my destination otherwise he would have got the old one two, the quick heave ho.
As I disappeared into the pharmacy I questioned myself as to whom this grossly overweight person could be. Did I owe him money? Was he a distant relative? Perhaps an under-cover policeman? I laughed at the thought, ‘It would have to be a very large tarpaulin to put that gargantuan under cover’, I mused.
Thankfully he did not follow me into the Chemist; I doubted that he would have successfully negotiated the shop door, full on or sideways. His tummy looked like he had swallowed a prize winning pumpkin!‘How could a man let himself go like that’, I questioned.
The pharmacy had one of those ‘speak your weight’ weighing machines. I imagined if my tubby friend had stepped on, you would have heard, ‘one at a time please’ or ‘for heaven’s sake get off!’ It was an old joke but one befitting my unbelievably humongous stalker.
My decision to leave, if possible from the rear door of that shop, was sound thinking. I would do my business then make good my escape.
‘Excuse me young man’, I called to a somewhat feminine looking attendant.‘Can I help’ he replied in an equally feminine tone.‘I hope so; I need a cheap, temporary pair of spectacles, the strongest magnification you can find'. As he aproached me to point out that I was standing right next to the spectacles display cabinet, I notice he was wearing a dress, then I glanced to my right and to my horror spotted the bulbous one, somehow he had got into the shop, I’d had enough, this had to be finished once and for all. We faced each other; put our fists up and with violent determination, I rushed forward, straight into... the full length mirror.
My appointment with the optometrist, was more than disappointing, it was annoying. My new spectacles would not be arriving until early the following week.
Walking back through town, I could not help noticing I was being followed. It was embarrassing; one of those situations where you know someone is there but you cannot look straight at them in case they are genuinely going at the same speed and to the same destination as yourself.
He was on my left, perhaps a pace or two behind. I still had not got a good look at him but decided to take evasive action. Turning quickly, I waited for the traffic to ease and began crossing the busy street. I was not sorry to see the chap swing off to the left and walk away in the opposite direction. Coincidently as I turned and glanced back over my shoulder, he did exactly the same; it was then that I noticed just how large he was.
I told myself off for my judgemental attitude, ‘who cares if the poor fellow is slightly overweight’ I mumbled, ‘we all have our problems and who am I to judge.’ That was the end of it, or so I thought as I happily put the incident out of my mind.
Imagine my astonishment and annoyance to see that the cunning fellow had also crossed the road and without me noticing,he had somehow snuck around my back and was now walking on the opposite side of me.
‘I suppose he thinks I would not notice him... The fat fool’, I muttered to myself, ‘not the brightest glow worm in the cave’. Glancing out of the corner of my eye I was intrigued to notice that whoever this cheeky fellow was, except for the hugeness, he looked quite familiar. He was copying my every move, I stopped, he stopped; there were other people around and I did not want to make a scene. I tried staring at him, put my hands on my hips in an aggressive stance and stared eyeball to eyeball. He did exactly the same. Lucky for him, I soon reached my destination otherwise he would have got the old one two, the quick heave ho.
As I disappeared into the pharmacy I questioned myself as to whom this grossly overweight person could be. Did I owe him money? Was he a distant relative? Perhaps an under-cover policeman? I laughed at the thought, ‘It would have to be a very large tarpaulin to put that gargantuan under cover’, I mused.
Thankfully he did not follow me into the Chemist; I doubted that he would have successfully negotiated the shop door, full on or sideways. His tummy looked like he had swallowed a prize winning pumpkin!‘How could a man let himself go like that’, I questioned.
The pharmacy had one of those ‘speak your weight’ weighing machines. I imagined if my tubby friend had stepped on, you would have heard, ‘one at a time please’ or ‘for heaven’s sake get off!’ It was an old joke but one befitting my unbelievably humongous stalker.
My decision to leave, if possible from the rear door of that shop, was sound thinking. I would do my business then make good my escape.
‘Excuse me young man’, I called to a somewhat feminine looking attendant.‘Can I help’ he replied in an equally feminine tone.‘I hope so; I need a cheap, temporary pair of spectacles, the strongest magnification you can find'. As he aproached me to point out that I was standing right next to the spectacles display cabinet, I notice he was wearing a dress, then I glanced to my right and to my horror spotted the bulbous one, somehow he had got into the shop, I’d had enough, this had to be finished once and for all. We faced each other; put our fists up and with violent determination, I rushed forward, straight into... the full length mirror.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
let kids be kids
Let kids take risks, who can recall, climbing a tree, starting to fall.
Under a bridge, testing acoustics, racing a friend at riverside pooh sticks.
Eating a worm, catching a frog, peering and poking an old rotten log.
Pinching an apple, your friends wouldn’t tell. Ringing a door bell, running like hell.
Jump off a bridge, walk on a wall, not even thinking perhaps you might fall.
Let kids be kids, give them a bike, remember the joy, what it was like.
You were on your own, you did not know, that guiding hand had just let go,
Remember when you glanced around, you lost momentum, hit the ground,
So what, You needed a plaster, got back up and rode much faster.
Let kids be kids, don’t you see, growing kids need A and E
Let kids be kids, for goodness sake, over protection is a huge mistake
Let them play, act the fool, don’t wrap them up in cotton wool.
Get kids outside breathing fresh air, give them a challenge, teach them to dare.
Remember your childhood, when grazing your knee, left a scar for all to see.
Embracing some danger is bound to cause strife but let’s prepare kids for surprises in life.
Under a bridge, testing acoustics, racing a friend at riverside pooh sticks.
Eating a worm, catching a frog, peering and poking an old rotten log.
Pinching an apple, your friends wouldn’t tell. Ringing a door bell, running like hell.
Jump off a bridge, walk on a wall, not even thinking perhaps you might fall.
Let kids be kids, give them a bike, remember the joy, what it was like.
You were on your own, you did not know, that guiding hand had just let go,
Remember when you glanced around, you lost momentum, hit the ground,
So what, You needed a plaster, got back up and rode much faster.
Let kids be kids, don’t you see, growing kids need A and E
Let kids be kids, for goodness sake, over protection is a huge mistake
Let them play, act the fool, don’t wrap them up in cotton wool.
Get kids outside breathing fresh air, give them a challenge, teach them to dare.
Remember your childhood, when grazing your knee, left a scar for all to see.
Embracing some danger is bound to cause strife but let’s prepare kids for surprises in life.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Lights, action, it’s Christmas.
Like it or not, Santa Claus is here to stay, every male from the cradle to old age will experience the five ages of Father Christmas;
You are not aware that there is a Father Christmas,
You believe in Father Christmas,
You do not believe in Father Christmas,
You are Father Christmas,
You look like Father Christmas.
Fathers be warned, questions about Santa will be asked, they are designed for no other reason than to catch you out.
Today’s five year olds are savvy, they are not children, they are small adults and we, the more mature species must not melt like quivering jelly fish as the annual onslaught of Christmas questions bombards our feeble imaginations.
Not any more, oh no. Fathers will never again find it necessary to resort to, ‘Ask your Mother’.
The secret is to parry those difficult questions that cut and slice through our intellectual ego, with a shield of techno mumbo jumbo. This Christmas, your small human bean will stand with mouth open, gazing in admiration at your intellectual superiority.
Memorise these questions and answers, then destroy.
‘Dad, why are there so many Santa’s?
‘Clones, son, they are all false Santas. The big boss Santa gives the orders from the North Pole’.
‘Has he got a cell phone’
‘No, son, it’s his whiskers, they are fibre optic receptors.’
‘Dad, how can a jolly fat Santa fit down our chimney?’
‘Flue injections, Son. He injects himself, his cell metabolism shrinks, a bit like the Incredible Hulk only the opposite, and bingo he can slip down every flu.’
‘What if you don’t have a chimney, do you miss out on presents?’
‘No in those cases Santa uses a low tech system, he goes through the door’.
‘Dad, how can Santa’s elves make presents for all the children in the whole wide world?’
‘Robots Son, E.L.F stands for Efficient Life Form. They can make ten Barbie dolls in a split second, a thousand bikes in an hour’.
‘Wow!… Dad, How can Santa get to every house in the whole wide world, in one night?’
‘Warp speed, just like in Star Trek. In fact, like Captain Kirk, when Santa has dropped off the presents he says ’Beam me up Sooty’ and up the chimney he goes.
‘Dad, where does the tooth fairy live?’
‘Go ask your mother!’
You are not aware that there is a Father Christmas,
You believe in Father Christmas,
You do not believe in Father Christmas,
You are Father Christmas,
You look like Father Christmas.
Fathers be warned, questions about Santa will be asked, they are designed for no other reason than to catch you out.
Today’s five year olds are savvy, they are not children, they are small adults and we, the more mature species must not melt like quivering jelly fish as the annual onslaught of Christmas questions bombards our feeble imaginations.
Not any more, oh no. Fathers will never again find it necessary to resort to, ‘Ask your Mother’.
The secret is to parry those difficult questions that cut and slice through our intellectual ego, with a shield of techno mumbo jumbo. This Christmas, your small human bean will stand with mouth open, gazing in admiration at your intellectual superiority.
Memorise these questions and answers, then destroy.
‘Dad, why are there so many Santa’s?
‘Clones, son, they are all false Santas. The big boss Santa gives the orders from the North Pole’.
‘Has he got a cell phone’
‘No, son, it’s his whiskers, they are fibre optic receptors.’
‘Dad, how can a jolly fat Santa fit down our chimney?’
‘Flue injections, Son. He injects himself, his cell metabolism shrinks, a bit like the Incredible Hulk only the opposite, and bingo he can slip down every flu.’
‘What if you don’t have a chimney, do you miss out on presents?’
‘No in those cases Santa uses a low tech system, he goes through the door’.
‘Dad, how can Santa’s elves make presents for all the children in the whole wide world?’
‘Robots Son, E.L.F stands for Efficient Life Form. They can make ten Barbie dolls in a split second, a thousand bikes in an hour’.
‘Wow!… Dad, How can Santa get to every house in the whole wide world, in one night?’
‘Warp speed, just like in Star Trek. In fact, like Captain Kirk, when Santa has dropped off the presents he says ’Beam me up Sooty’ and up the chimney he goes.
‘Dad, where does the tooth fairy live?’
‘Go ask your mother!’
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