It's always the quiet ones

Ideas-wise, there’s been a bit of a drought, really.

I’ve started and discarded a number of posts over the last couple of days, ranging from such exciting topics as I Have Not Smoked Any Fags For Nine Days, to I Am Very Fat And Despite Trying To Cut Back I Am Still Getting Fatter. All of it dull, all of it worthy of a nine-year old returning to school after the Christmas break and stretching What I Did In My Holidays to three hundred words with the tactical inclusion of the day when Daddy had a little too much festive cheer and called Mummy a frigid bitch at the dinner table*.

Salvation (for you lot) came in the unlikely form of a hit on these very pages, directed from a search engine enquiry phrased thusly (thus? Like this? Whatever):

Why did Noel Edmonds shoot an elephant?

Blimey.

Why indeed?

Now, in anyone’s book (excluding, of course, anyone who has never heard of the tiny, bouffant host of Britain’s Most Exciting Game Show**), the unexpected bobbing to the surface of Noel Edmonds’ having, at some point, raised a gun in his weeny, child-sized hands and shot an elephant is a moment to savour. Was he on safari? Was he at the zoo? Did he, in a fit of pique at the failure of Noel’s House Party to be commissioned for a further interminable series of squalid public-baiting and minor-celebrity-gunging, ditch plans for buying that new helicopter and have an elephant (or maybe a variety of wildlife; who knows?) shipped to his Devonshire estate in order that he might vent his miniature spleen by slaughtering it? Good lord, faced with these potential scenarios, who wouldn’t do a bit of digging around the internet to see what the skinny was?

Sadly, it isn’t true. No mammoth massacre in LittleNoel’s sordid past. Shame.

It’s not all bad though – I did learn that he once had sex in the back of a Land Rover, and that he once drove a Ford GT40 at 186 mph on the Tring bypass. Naked.

Sources do not state whether his jumper was tossed casually onto the back seat during these manoeuvres or (as is more likely) folded neatly along the agreed and ratified Edmonds’ Creases and placed in a sterile garment bag in the boot.

Christ on a bike. I need to get out more.

* This may or may not be based on a true story from Small Surly Girl’s Bumper Box O’Memories.

** Where “game show” is interchangeable with “middle-aged people doing some guessing”