March 26, 2005

Fred Bloggs says to me “Suppose, for the sake of argument, that you were abducted by aliens.  You never know, it happens all the time.”

“Hmmm.” I thought.

“Let us further suppose that the aliens conducted anal probes on you – because aliens always do that – and that all that poking and prodding of your rear-end destroyed the cortex of your brain.”

“Bastards!  I hate those aliens.”

“Given that regrettable scenario, would you want to be kept alive as a vegetable?”

“Dunno” I replied, “It depends on what kind of vegetable I suppose.  I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a turnip for Chris'sake.  I wouldn’t mind being a tomato though – I like tomatoes.”

“A tomato is a fruit, not a vegetable, so you will have to be something else.  How about an aubergine?”

“Aubergine! I wouldn’t be caught dead as a bloody aubergine!  Aubergines are sooo gay.”

“We could call you an eggplant.”

“Like the great bard himself once said, an aubergine by any other name would be just as gay.”

“How about a jalapeño pepper?”

“Totally gay.”

“What about a cucumber, they're kinda macho?”

“Hmmm, not bad but I think I would prefer to be a zucchini – they're gnarlier.”

“I know – how about a marrow?”

“Perfect!”

And so that is how I now come to write my living will right here on the very fabric of cyberspace itself for all to see:  I hereby declare that I do not want to be kept alive as a vegetable unless it is as a marrow.

A marrow is not a fruit is it?

Post Scriptum
That reminds me of something I have not thought about in years.  In fact, not since the last place I worked at in the UK before going into exile.  There was a programmer there who was a nice enough person but rather carelessly had parents who bestowed upon him the most unfortunate of names.

It was unfortunate in my department anyway where we all shared the same highly commendable sense of humor.  You see, his name was Martin Farrow but was known to us (never to his face of course) as Mr. Marrow.  Think about it, you’ll get it.  It still brings a smile to my face.