Leave Deserts Alone!

I’m not sure if I really believe in the idea of reincarnation, but if I was to say I did, I think I would also surely say that I do not want to come back as a desert (I don’t mean a dessert, because if I had to be eaten I happen to think there are far worse things I could come back as, such as semolina, brussel-sprouts, or, the pinnacle of nastiness, Marmite). Deserts have had a very tough time of it throughout history, don’t you think? Not to mention movies make them out to be an absolute nightmare, when in fact it’s us humans'and animals'fault for not having the evolutionary gumption to be able to exist in them. What did deserts ever do? And look at how they are! Expanses of golden sand, all the space in the world under infinite blue skies, and they still get it in the neck and are incorporated in to a vast number of derogatory sayings such as “this place is deserted, it sucks!” and “what a desert–let’s go to Ibiza”; now, if I was to come back as the Sahara Desert, say, then I think the knowledge that being known as the world’s worst place to be would tip me over the edge and make me sink (no pun intended) in to myself and never be able to get out: I’d just get sad. Is it any wonder that no life grows in deserts? Could you support a thriving eco-system while reincarnated into a lonely abandoned place where nobody but the bravest arab goes?

Of course, there are other much more important questions in life than this, such as “who bends bananas?” and “where did the man from the Del Monte adverts end up? I haven’t seen him since that bloke on the Milk Tray adverts disappeared in to the night time”.

So I have finally been paid for that last photography job that I did, you all know what that implies, it’s about time to hit the mall and pick up that new outfit of gore running wear that I have been waiting to get. Carvell, are you up for a trip to the high streets this week?