Doc Barbara on the Lancashire slug

NATURAL SELECTION

by

Doc Barbara

                                                     Through Wigan runs a great divide:

                                                     The slugs down on the Southern side

                                                     Are subject (as indeed are we)

                                                     To unrequited misery 

                                                     If they can't find a loving mate.

                                                     In this pathetic, lonely state

                                                     The slug is low in self-esteem

                                                     And takes the single life to mean

                                                     It has no charm, no winning grace

                                                     No wit, charisma, no real place

                                                     Within another's heart. And yet

                                                     Above that latitude, slugs get

                                                     Erotic satisfaction, joy.

                                                    A slug is born both girl and boy:

                                                    So sturdy Northern common sense

                                                    Finds in self-love, true recompense.

                                                    It reasons thus: hermaphrodites

                                                    Need never suffer from the blights

                                                    Of jealousy, rejection, scorn.

                                                    It's foolish to remain lovelorn:

                                                    There's someone here who thinks I'm great,

                                                    Who will, always, reciprocate

                                                    My passion.  Life will be complete

                                                    If only we can make ends meet.

This poetic perception (so mellifluously expressed in our opinion) has given its author cause for soul searching as the inspiration of the Muse led to approval of slug sexuality in all its forms whereas she had been trying to moderate it. Our heroine will ponder further.

                                                     

Doc Barbara and the proliferating slug

   Our visiting learned Professor, Ramsbottom-Thrutch, showed great astonishment when we told him about Doc Barbara's latest proposed exploit and was puzzled as to how he, a sociologist, could shed light on it. She has read in the papers that the mild, wet winter has caused slugs to stay awake and breed profusely.

   Doc Barbara is a believer in Nature and its harmonious ways but felt that perhaps this was a moment needing human intervention and is determined to quell their libido and return it to its usual sluggish state. The Professor finally concluded that this is an ethnoecological reaction to a sense of threat and asked us to send out Bob Twaddle, our cub reporter, to take pictures of our heroine with the aforesaid gastropod mollusc.

   Bob was traumatised by so many polysyllables (he has never recovered from finding out that he was originally named monosyllabic Bob not Robert and has suffered from a feeling of deprivation ever since). He in turn asked if his sister Belinda could help, claiming that she is a cheerful, extrovert girl, whose only fault is a tendency to lose focus.

   This is the resulting image where we think she took the necessity to maintain focus too literally whilst becaming distracted from her main purpose in its metaphorical meaning. The Professor will investigate this phenomenon also and we will try to obtain a photograph of a slug.  (Sometimes the effort of running a local newspaper is too onerous for me. Ed.).

   We even suggested to Doc Barbara that she abandon her mission but she replied pacifically, " You can't teach your grandmother to let sleeping dogs lie" and reminded us of her poetic outburst about the sexuality of the slugs North of Wigan which we reprint elsewhere.

The Professor's first finding

   Professor Ramsbottom-Thrutch (sociologist) is a cautious and scholarly man and so, before investigating the Doc Barbara phenomenon in full, he decided to consult a renowned colleague in the psychology department to delve more deeply into the inner make-up of our heroine (we all know she never wears outer make-up).  

  The psychologist reported the outcome of his tests to her and then we heard nothing. Finally, she rushed into the office of The Monmouthshire Mouthpiece several days later to tell us the result. She caught us all by surprise and so everyone was present.

   "He says I have too much super-ego, a normal ego but too little squid," she declaimed. "I have been all over Europe to track down squid or even octopus, wondering if it was such a creature commemorated for its importance in a stained glass window in France - but I eventually found some in Brixton market." It appears she ate enormous quantities before sensing that her internal mental mechanisms were unaffected - although other systems suffered.  We advised more cake in lieu.

   Our chief reporter, a man of wide learning, usually unaccountably absent when she is our topic, explained to her what he thought was the error. The picture below shows the delight of both Doc Barbara and the Professor of Sociology at the happy ending of this fabulous exploit (although he appears to be holding her back in fear that she might leap into the lake in search of more piscine delicacies. She does have a squid - sorry id - tendency to dive into water). "I thought quite early on I should have told the psychologist to stop bleating about the bush," she  opined merrily as she left. Her creative way with old sayings is proverbial.

Renowned Professor to Research Doc Barbara Phenomenon

   The Monmouthshire Mouthpiece is delighted to have received a request from a learned and globally respected Professor of Sociology. He asks if he might become Honorary Official Temporary Academic In Residence (H.O.T.A.I.R) in our town so that he can undertake vitally important research. Central to his investigation will be the Doc Barbara syndrome of attracting a large band of devoted followers, known to all generically as the DocSoc.

  The Professor is a deeply emotional man who was forced to abandon his study of Roman burial practices because he all too frequently burst into copious tears at the very thought of anyone dying. He then turned his attention to what he believed would be a happier topic: gift-giving rituals in South West Lancashire. However, he was profoundly disturbed to discover only two such and miserably concluded that generosity is not a predominant characteristic of the natives of that area. We are grateful to him and to his university of Much-Mickling-in-the-Mire for his interest in our heroine, now that she has been found safe and well.

   Yet again we were obliged to trust the initial interview with Professor Ramsbottom-Thrutch to our cub reporter, Bob Twaddle but, since his flimsy grasp of grammar and punctuation deserted him in an attack of stage fright, we are publishing the dialogue verbatim from his tape-recorder.

B.T: Welcome to ... Where are we? I can't remember!
R-T: I never know where I am - I am too vague yet important for such details.
B.T: How do you propose to conduct your study? [relief all round at Head Office that he managed a coherent question]
R-T. I shall deviate between the Frankfurt Critical Method and a Subconventional Matrix, more commonly referred to as S.M.
B.T. What drew you to this topic? [More relief]
R-T: When I heard she was missing I was overwhelmed with grief, such as I was at the passing of the late lamented P....  [Here the poor man was overcome with sobs and the interview had to be concluded]

   Our cub reporter did send a photograph of the Professor, however, though aspects of it puzzle us. The bowed head of Bob Twaddle shows his paralysing respect for the venerable gentleman.

Doc Barbara found at last

   Some of the  members of staff of The Monmouthshire Mouthpiece were sitting in the office we share with the The Brynbuga Beagle, reminiscing sadly about Doc Barbara and the more memorable exploits she achieved before her mystery disappearance. We discussed our attempts to find her and her epic history. One reporter recalled the time she was nearly arrested and another remembered vividly her concern when the frogs in her pond first refused to mate. And then there was her heroism in Paris ... Her imaginative mixed metaphors came to mind, in particular, the one that best sums her up: "I always bite the bull by the horns."

  At that moment our cub reporter came in, pale with excitement - at least that is what we had to assume as he is always rendered virtually paralysed and completely incapable of utterance when overcome by powerful emotion. After many cups of strong coffee he managed to explain that a significant clue had been found which led to her whereabouts:

   This discovery of her sandals, abandoned by the side of the bath in Bath, helped our Mr Twaddle, in one of his rare outbreaks of common sense, to find her and, after several more coffees, he explained that she had tried to help a slave girl, seated nearby with a tray of make-up for her mistress. As Doc Barbara disapproves of servitude and cosmetics, though in unequal measure, since she regards make-up as a sub-section of slavery, she attempted to assist the girl to freedom but she was content with her life and refused. Perhaps she secretly likes using the various pots and potions. Doc Barbara spent many days in this endeavour, consuming one of the ample teas in the Pump Room every day (sometimes twice) before waddling home - to our immense joy.

   When we told Doc Barbara how devastated all her followers had been during her absence, she replied with an enigmatic smile: "No use crying till the fat lady sings." Such wisdom!

The Search for Doc Barbara

   Here we see the detective branch of the local W.U.G. (Women's Undomesticated Group) examining the waters in Bath for any clue to Doc Barbara's whereabouts since her mysterious disappearance several days ago. When they met with no success, they alerted other bodies [unfortunate choice of words perhaps: Ed.] to search, including their sons, who are tough and persistent characters - they have had to be since their mothers are so entirely devoid of culinary or any other household accomplishments. One thought the bicycle pictured bottom right might be hers but it did look rather small even for her modest requirements.

   More worrying was this possible sighting photographed below, although the leader of the W.U.G is certain that Doc Barbara does not ride in this cavalier posture but always leans forwards alertly over her handlebars.

   We appeal to all our readers, even our rivals at The Brynbuga Beagle, to watch closely and report any information which might lead to her.

   Footnote from the Editor of The Brynbuga Beagle: Indeed we will assist in any way we can and are quite (two possible meanings there) wretched at the thought she might have come to harm. In fact we have reconsidered our scepticism and are sorry we ever doubted the fabulousness of some of her exploits. We admire her devotion to wildlife as seen in her globally acknowledged worm-training programme and her artistic efforts must be applauded in their ambition. We want her back amongst us if only to calm referendum fever as she did for the last general election.

Doc Barbara's Sensational Disappearance

   We at The Monmouthshire Mouthpiece are deeply concerned to learn that Doc Barbara has not been sighted recently, so much so that we actually sent our cub reporter to investigate, since there was no-one else available. In one of his rare episodes of efficiency, he tracked her last known movements to Bath Spa and forwarded these photos: the collage shows her arrival in the famous and elegant Pump Room where all is quiet (bottom right) until one guest (top photo) notices her arrival and alerts the orchestra who begin to play: "Hail the conquering hero comes" - note the modern tendency to de-genderisation.

   Doc Barbara then consumed all the items on the three-tier stand (she has admitted to a tendency to gluttony) holding out her little finger in genteel fashion as she drank her tea since she had already practised the appropriate aristocratic behaviour for her meeting with Prince Charles.

   

   After that, looking noticeably plumper, she went to visit the famous Roman baths where she was seen preparing to immerse herself in the atmosphere for a fuller experience.

   This is the last our cub reporter saw of her and we are now sending him on a training course entitled; "When is it acceptable for a peacetime photographer to intervene."

Editor's note: It was only when we came to filling out the application form that he revealed his first name. Until now we have always called him by his surname, Mr Twaddle, unaccountably pronounced with a short "a" as in "cat", but now we can more happily refer to him as Bob.